Mercy

by Rada Jones

  “What would you like me to tell him, Amber?”

  “Tell him how hard it is for a woman to be excluded from her man’s life. I need him. The girls need him. He needs to reorder his priorities.”

  “I don’t know, Amber. This is very personal. He’ll think that I’m intruding. And he would be right. You need to talk to him.”

  Tears shimmered down Amber’s moonlit face. “Please, Emma! You have to help me! There’s nobody else I can ask.”

  Emma wished she could say no. But she couldn’t. I asked for her help last time Taylor disappeared. It’s my turn now. She drained the melted margarita and grimaced. It had plenty of sugar but not much alcohol. She sighed.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Amber’s face lit up. “Thank you, Emma. I knew I could count on you.”

  Shoulders slumped, head down, Emma walked home. She felt trapped. She hated doing this, but she had promised.

  “Crap.”

  Guinness cocked her head.

  “She conned you into this? I thought you were the smart one.”

  “Don’t even go there!” Emma said.

  Guinness wagged her tail.

  “Hey, get over it! At least he’s her problem now.”

  58

  It was Taylor’s first day on the job. Her heart was pumping and she was sick to her stomach. She wished she hadn’t been so adamant about getting a job. In the ER, of all places. What was I thinking? She had to choose between nursing assistant and environmental worker. Cleaning was so not her thing! She went for nursing assistant. She couldn’t figure out how to tell her mother, so she didn’t. And today was the day.

  She said good-bye to Guinness and climbed into Eric’s car. He dropped her off at the ER entrance. She snuck in, hoping to miss her mother.

  They paired her with Amy for orientation. Amy had worked there for years, so she knew the ropes. She taught Taylor how to check vital signs. She told her which thermometer went in the mouth, and which at the other end. She showed her how to stock cupboards and how to draw blood. By noon, Taylor’s head was spinning.

  By far the hardest thing was dealing with patients and families. They always had questions.

  “You need to speak to the doctor,” Amy said.

  “When is he coming?”

  “In a few minutes.”

  “We’ve been here for an hour.”

  “He’ll come soon. It’s busy today. The sicker patients get seen first.”

  “Never say anything else, even if you know the doctor won’t see them for hours,” Amy told her afterwards. “And always listen to your nurses. If you have their back, they’ll have yours. Try to do what’s needed before they even ask. Get a urine. Check vitals. You’ll make a lot of friends. Don’t worry about the doctors. Your go-to is your nurse.”

  “I thought the doctors run the show.”

  “Nah, the nurses just let them think so. The nurses run the show. The doctors come and go. Don’t worry about them. Except for Dr. Steele. Be careful with her.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s the ED director. She makes things happen when nobody else can.”

  “How come?”

  “She’s a witch.”

  Taylor laughed.

  “Really. She reads minds. It’s like a seventh sense.”

  “Sixth,” Taylor said.

  “Whatever. Don’t lie. If you forgot something, just tell her. If you lie, she’ll know it. It’s not worth it.”

  You got that one right. It’s not worth it.

  A handsome doctor in a navy suits stopped by.

  “Amy, I need help with a pelvic.”

  “Yes, Dr. Crump. This is Taylor. She’ll be working with us.”

  “Welcome, Taylor. The ER is a fun place to work. When it doesn’t suck.”

  “Good to know.”

  He glanced at her belly. “Pregnant?”

  “Yes.”

  “How far?”

  “Twenty weeks.”

  “Congratulations. Amy will show you the ropes. She’ll teach you well.”

  “Yes, Dr. Crump. What room?”

  “Room 14.”

  Setting up the pelvic was the complicated process of transforming the room into a torture chamber complete with stirrups, lights, and tubes. Taylor shivered. She still hadn’t seen an OB.

  No wonder the patient is distraught.

  “I’m sorry, but you may lose this pregnancy. It’s too early to tell.”

  The young woman burst into sobs. Dr. Crump touched her shoulder.

  “Is this your first pregnancy?”

  “My second.”

  “You have a baby at home?”

  The woman sobbed harder. “I lost that pregnancy at six months.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Taylor was too. She felt the woman’s pain as if it was her own.

  “We’ll know more after the ultrasound,” Dr. Crump said.

  He opened the door for her. They walked into Emma.

  “Taylor?”

  Taylor blushed.

  “You’ve already met?” Dr. Crump asked.

  “A while ago. Taylor is my daughter.”

  Dr. Crump looked from one to the other. He glanced at Taylor’s belly. “Really?”

  “Sometimes I wonder too. But that’s what her father told me.”

  Taylor smiled.

  I learned that from Mother. Smile whenever things turn to shit. You’ll feel better. Plus, nobody needs to know you’re hurting, or they’ll hit you even harder.

  59

  The following morning Emma found a white envelope in her work mailbox. She hoped it wasn’t a complaint, or another nastygram from Quality, bashing her performance on the sepsis protocol. She took out the golden-edged invitation.

  “North Country University has the pleasure… Dr. Tolpeghin’s retirement party… Keynote speaker 5p.m. Cocktails on the lawn 5:30 to 7. Heavy appetizers.”

  Who?

  She read it again. She shrugged and dropped it in the wastebasket. It had to be a mistake. Then she remembered.

  It’s the Russian. The board member. She said she’s a professor! But why invite me? We barely met. I won’t know anybody there. I’m probably working anyhow.

  She wasn’t. That evening was hers to waste as she chose, so she chose to waste it there. She had nothing better to do, after walking Guinness. She put on a forgiving cayenne pepper red dress, matching lipstick, and a pair of non-croc shoes. She glanced in the mirror. The mirror smiled.

  She was late, but not late enough. The keynote speech was slow.

  “We were incredibly blessed to have Dr. Tolpeghin in our midst. She created an interest in biology that was duly received by our students whose hearts were opened to the miracles of the natural world thanks to her…”

  Where do these people learn how to speak? And, more importantly, why?

  She looked for the exit. Back through the crowd, toward the toilets, then I swerve to the parking lot.

  She apologized, slithering back through the crowd, when a hand caught her arm.

  “I’m so glad I found you! I looked everywhere!”

  Boris?

  Looking nothing like a jack-o’-lantern, Boris stole the show in his charcoal suit. His unruly silver blond hair set off his tan; his laughing blue eyes caressed her. In a strange Russian greeting, he kissed her cheeks three times. His skin smelled green and expensive, like French cologne spilled in a deep wood.

  “Vera will be delighted to see you,” he said, taking her hand and dragging her through the crowd.

  Sitting on the podium in a red hat that would put Queen Elizabeth to shame, Vera yawned. Boris waved. Vera saw them and smiled. She winked, signaling them to wait.

  The keynote speaker handed her the microphone. Applause spread through the crowd like wildfire.

  “Thank you all for being here. It was a privilege to work with you. Let’s fight climate change and save the environment. It’s the only one we have.”

  She stepped off
the podium to a thunderous ovation.

  “That’s it?” Boris asked.

  “That’s all I had to say. I don’t need half an hour to say it.”

  Emma laughed. Vera hugged her.

  “Welcome. I’m glad you came. I didn’t think you would, but Boris said it was worth a try.”

  “It’s always worth a try for something you care about, Vera. Isn’t that what you taught me?”

  “Thank you for inviting me,” Emma said.

  “My pleasure,” Boris answered. “Don’t worry, Vera, I’ll take care of her. You go deal with your boring crap.”

  “Be good,” Vera said.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Boris asked.

  “Then at least be smart,” she laughed.

  “Come. I’ll take you to the cocktails,” Boris said.

  Emma hesitated. “Are you sure…”

  He laughed. “It’s OK, Dr. Steele. Relax. I’m no longer your patient. You’re not responsible for me. How about having fun for a change?”

  Fun? I guess… She wished she could remember how.

  Boris did. He ordered for her. In tune with Vera’s speech, they had cocktails she’d never heard of, like “Penguin Melter” and “Polar Heatwave” and “Antarctic Beach.” He drank club soda with lime, enjoying her pleasure. He made her laugh, he made her think, and he made her feel like a woman worth looking at. Emma was bewitched.

  He’s the most exciting man I ever met since Victor. Scratch that. He’s the most exciting man I’ve ever met.

  The evening was magical and short.

  “I’ll drive you home,” Boris said.

  “Thanks, but I drove here.”

  “That was before the cocktails. I’ll drive you home. I’ll bring you back to get your car tomorrow morning.”

  “I work at seven.”

  “I get up at five.”

  Emma hesitated.

  “Emma, I’ll call you a taxi if you want. I’m not looking for sex. Maybe later. Right now, I’m looking for friendship, companionship, and a good laugh. More than anything, I’m looking to keep you safe. You matter to me.”

  He drove her home. They talked. She told him about her job, about her life, about how poorly she was doing at everything. He listened. He told her about sleeping on tatami mats in Japan, about centenary turtles having sex in the Galapagos, about the Folex—fake Rolex—he had bought in Alexandria.

  Guinness came to meet them at the door. She stared at him with her amber eyes, sniffing every inch of his pants. He laughed and talked to her in Russian. Guinness smiled.

  “What did you tell her?” Emma asked.

  “A secret,” he said, scratching the dog behind her ears. “She’ll tell you if she wants to.”

  They sat on the green leather sofa. They talked. He was an artist, working in mixed media. Never married. He hadn’t found the right girl until now. His aunt was his godmother and his only family. He played chess.

  He asked about her. She told him she had a daughter. And an ex-husband. And a job.

  “And? Tell me more about you.”

  “That’s it,” she said.

  He hugged her. “Let’s go to bed.”

  She blushed. He laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll just hold you.”

  She took him to her bed. He held her. He told her she was wonderful. She laughed.

  He didn’t. “The one thing I’d like to do is to show you how beautiful you are. You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re wonderful.”

  Emma laughed.

  “I’m serious. Beauty is in the soul, not in the fashion magazines. Look at the most beautiful women ever. Rubens’s. Rembrandt’s. Renoir’s. Look at the freaking Mona Lisa. Not a single one of them is less than a size 12. You need to put on a few pounds to fit in.”

  Emma chuckled, but she stopped worrying about her body.

  They slept embraced. For the first time, she felt at peace with who she was. She wasn’t young, she wasn’t thin, but she was OK.

  It’s not only what you do. It’s also who you are. And I’m not so bad!

  She couldn’t wait for their date next week.

  60

  Next day in the ER, Taylor was having a bad shift. She wasn’t feeling well. Her eyes burned with tears. She’d already stuck the patient in Room 10, again and again. No luck. The patient, a lovely old lady, didn’t complain, but her family was giving her rotten looks. She told Faith. Faith sent her back to try again.

  Taylor gathered her tubes but couldn’t bring herself to go in. She stared at the door, tears streaming down her cheeks. Carlos touched her shoulder.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I can’t get the labs.”

  “Go tell your nurse.”

  “I did. She told me to try again. ‘It’s the only way to learn,’ she said. But I tried three times already.”

  “Why don’t you send this urine for me, then? I’ll get the blood for you. Nobody needs to know.”

  “Thank you, Carlos.”

  Taylor sent the urine. She returned just as Carlos brought out the labs.

  “Thanks, Carlos!” Taylor hugged him.

  “Isn’t that cute!” Faith said.

  Carlos frowned and left without a word. Faith stared at Taylor’s belly.

  “Is it his?”

  “What?” Taylor asked

  Faith’s chin pointed to her pregnant belly.

  “Of course not,” Taylor said.

  “Whose is it then?”

  Taylor’s blood rose to her cheeks.

  “None of your business. These are your labs.” She walked away to chill. Fortunately, it was time for her lunch.

  Eric was right. In the ER you grow up fast.

  She was learning to control her temper. She couldn’t help but notice that some tragedies were worse than her smeared mascara or somebody’s snide remark. She was learning about real life. It wasn’t always fun, but it was enlightening.

  By the end of her break she had chilled. She walked back just as the speakers sputtered: “Code 99, ER, Room 10.”

  That’s my room. The patient that I couldn’t get blood from. She rushed to Room 10, now awash with scrubs, and squeezed in.

  Faith was performing CPR. Dr. Crump was running the code. The family stared in horror. The lovely smiling lady was now dead.

  Nothing helped. Dr. Crump called the code. Taylor didn’t understand.

  “What happened?” she asked Faith.

  Faith’s limpid blue eyes didn’t blink.

  “She died.”

  “Why?”

  “Her day has come.” Faith smiled. “Why don’t you ask your friend Carlos?”

  I’ll ask Mother.

  That evening she waited for her mother to came home. She watched her drop her bag and pet Guinness. She watched her pour her wine. Her hands, cracked from too much washing, shook from too much coffee. Her bloodshot eyes, dried by the air-conditioning, had deep dark circles.

  For the first time ever, Taylor felt sorry for her mother. She’s so tired she’s gray. She’s vulnerable. She’s actually mortal. She wished she hadn’t seen that. It made her feel responsible for her mother, and she didn’t need that. It was hard enough to be responsible for herself.

  She told her the story.

  “Faith told me to ask Carlos.”

  “How long had it been since Carlos was in the room?”

  “Half an hour maybe?”

  “Did he give her anything?”

  “No. He just got the bloods.”

  “How did he get them?”

  “From the vein?”

  “Did she have an IV?”

  “Yes. But I can’t use that. I had to stick her again to get the blood.”

  “You can’t, but nurses can. They get blood from the IV, then they flush it, so that it doesn’t clot. Was the family there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even when Carlos went in?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Emma sipped on her wine.

  “W
hat do you think?” Taylor asks.

  “I think Carlos is in major trouble.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s exactly the question. Why? Why is somebody trying to sink Carlos? And who?”

  “It’s Ben,” Taylor said.

  “Why Ben?”

  “I heard him talk to Mike the other day.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said Carlos is back with his old friends. He thinks he’s stealing drugs.”

  “What did Mike say?”

  “He asked for proof.”

  “And?”

  “Ben said he’ll get it. Soon.”

  61

  Emma lay awake that night, thinking about it. Could Taylor be right? Was Ben behind the string of deaths, trying to sink Carlos? Hard to believe. She ran the day’s events through her head once more.

  Emma was in her office when they called the code. She was struggling to make sense of the latest death. A kid. Vent-dependent, brought in for a fever, looking stable. Carlos’s patient. Chest X-ray looked like pneumonia. Vitals were fine. Then he just died. Before the X-ray got read.

  Why? No idea. This has got to be another one in that string. Except for the age, everything else fits. Looking OK, dead half an hour later for no reason.

  “Code 99, Emergency Department, Room 10.”

  Emma had grabbed her stethoscope and ran. Room 10 was a sea of scrubs, working feverishly. Kurt ran the code. Emma met his haggard eyes.

  “Can I help?”

  “Another epi please. Continue CPR.” He turned to Emma. “Can you look at the heart?”

  Emma brought in the ultrasound machine. The translucent algae-green gel splashed on the probe with a liquid sound. She held up the probe, waiting for a break.

  “Check for a pulse,” Kurt said. In a smooth move, Faith stepped back from doing CPR, making room for Amy to step forward. Kurt felt the neck for a pulse. All eyes were on the ultrasound screen. Emma placed the probe to the left of the sternum, between the second and third ribs. She pushed it down hard, to make contact. The heart, a pear-shaped dark shadow, materialized on the screen. No movement but the valves, waving, carried by the blood. No contraction.

  “We’ll call this code,” Kurt said, wiping his face with his sleeve. He looked at Emma. “This is ridiculous.”