“That’s Mandel’s son in there, so you don’t get to feel pity. It’s his son; his family laid up in pain, not yours. Don’t let anything you see in this building deter you from what you have to do.”
“He didn’t tell me. This whole time I had assumed...God, I don’t even know what...but I didn’t know. I’m so sick of not knowing all these things that go on.”
As soon as the words leave my lips, I immediately get Eleanora’s point and I hear the self-satisfying tone in my voice that begged Eleanora to feel bad for me.
But Eleanora is kind and she’s smart. She understands better than anyone how people make fools of themselves. She tells me in a cool voice, “You can’t be wearing this on your back. It’s not yours to bear. You have to be supportive and understanding, even if you’re left out of the loop sometimes.”
Chapter 12
It’s four o’clock in the afternoon and somewhere in this building, Mandel is sitting at a computer or making rounds, completely devoted to the task at hand, concentrating every bit of his focus on his jobs. But in the deep recesses of his mind, he pours all his will into believing the best for his son. He is forging reality in order to keep his consciousness from collapsing in on itself. The boundaries and fences and framework of Mandel’s mind are being hacked away. So he splits his energies between the physical world: where people count on him to perform his duties and his mind which is fated like a house of cards.
We are back at the nurse’s station and I watch Eleanora as she scrolls through files on the computer. She asks Isabel and Vanessa about the man in the hallway. Vanessa looks at me and says, “The man in the hallway is Mandel’s brother. He stopped in to see his nephew.” I return an understanding look.
“He’s a cop and Mandel’s son, Jonathan, was going to apply to the academy.”
“Oh, I see. Thanks, Vanessa.” I lower my eyes and turn away so they won’t see the expression on my face, or the red in my cheeks that I feel from the heat rising in my body. Mandel’s brother was the man in the hallway looking sad and bereft of hope.
I pull myself together and turn back to my co-workers as I hear Vanessa tell me, “It’s no surprise you didn’t know. Mandel keeps his personal matters to himself.” Her voice is forgiving, soothing like a warm towel over the neck and I wonder if the telltale mist building in my eyes is going to reveal the emotions within. But her emerald eyes are welcoming and kind and soon my pity begins to leave me, flowing out like a great estuary sending out its waters.
Eleanora takes me by the arm and leads me to the end of the counter at the nurses’ station, handing me a chart. “Come on, Doctor, let’s get back to work.” I’m relieved that she breaks me away from the focus on Mandel’s son. She speaks with authority but in such a way that she never seems to give an order as much as suggest an opportunity.
I leave the group, clutching the manila folder tightly to my chest as I walk, and everyone goes back to work as soon as I’m gone without a second thought to the tragedy we just witnessed in that hospital bed. That’s what we do. We settle into our tasks, our jobs, our duties when something awful happens. These things provide a buffer, they shield us from a wall of emotion which threatens us on a daily basis, to crush our fragile souls. And we promise to shed a tear later. But for right now, we all have something to do. I am being paged. I have to go to a new tragedy. I have to see the patient as a problem to be solved. A ball of heat begins to grow in my stomach and it spreads to my face and neck. It burns its way into my occipital lobe, blurring my vision.
I shake it off as I walk down the hall. I think of Eleanora and I imagine her telling me something like, “This won’t leave you. And don’t think it is bad. Embrace the feeling and own it. Make the next action count against your last defeat. Bring into this world a river to float away these tragedies.” And she is right.
Chapter 13
The day goes by smoothly with Eleanora’s fictitious motivations in my head. I am never finished with the paperwork but I try not to view the process as something that gets finished. That just gives me anxiety. Instead, I view it as an ongoing endeavor, just another daily task at hand.
The floors I am walking on are reflective, bearing the veneer of bleach. This is the hallway that leads to Maddox’s room, the one I find myself lingering on when I should be tending to other duties. I want to see him now and every day. I make silly excuses to be in his wing of the hospital, to walk down his hall and pop my head into his room, just to get a glimpse of the man with the aqua eyes. I even fixed my hair this morning before work, putting curls in it and now, as I approach his corridor, I pull the hair tie out and let it fall loosely around my shoulders--just in case I get to see him. But no sooner do I fluff my curls in preparation when I stop. The news of Mandel’s son keeps me away and I draw back farther into myself. Mandel has had enough heartache he doesn’t need me provoking him.
Maddox slips into my thoughts just as easily as a needle pierces skin. He is injected into my thoughts. He is handsome and tempting, his shoulders curve and drop like the angles of a beautiful mountain range. I can see myself falling asleep on his shoulders, pressing my cheek into his bare back, stroking his skin softly as my hand caresses him along the smooth hills.
But I know that, as alluring as he is, he is forbidden fruit, and now that I know about Mandel’s son, I have questions I need Maddox to answer. I remember back to our first conversation when I asked him about the fight that brought him into the ER. He was so flighty with his answers. What kept his tongue at bay? I’m not giving up. I give my curls one last fluff and straighten my white lab coat, groaning inwardly at how frumpy and sterile I must look in it. It’s a far cry from a sexy outfit but it’s what I have to wear to work. At least today I chose to wear a form fitting light pink blouse underneath, which has small, white pearl buttons. I can’t believe I practiced unbuttoning them down far enough to show a little cleavage -- just in case. I decided to try again to lift the truth from Maddox. And so when the time is right and I am not consumed with work, I open my white lab coat, open just enough buttons and quickly move in the direction of Maddox’s room.
As I turn the corner, I see Mandel’s brother standing in front of Maddox’s door. He stalks side to side with a cellphone in his hand. I approach him without the slightest clue as to what to say.
He lifts his head from his phone when he notices me approaching. I greet him from somewhat of an awkward distance, saying, “Hello,” loudly. He smiles and I extend a sweaty palm to him.
“I’m sorry, have we met?” he asks.
I tell him, “Your brother, Doctor Mandel, is my boss, I’m Lily...er, Doctor Brasco.”
I tell him we are all pulling for his nephew and I sound like some sitcom version of myself. I ask for his first name. He says, “Brian,” in a deep, raspy voice that has either been brutalized by cigarettes or strained from years of yelling, or both.
We exchange the typical niceties, both of us making pedestrian observations about each other’s profession. He talks to me at an awkward angle, facing a midpoint between me and Maddox’s door, so he is constantly talking at me from the side of his mouth. I find this a little unsettling and I wonder if it’s because of my opened blouse buttons. I glance down at my chest and nervously pull the lapel of my white lab coat over my chest so that it closes more in the front, hiding what was meant for Maddox.
His eyes focus mostly on me but he keeps his head slightly to the left. He is a short man but has thick fists, the kind that look like wrecking balls. A tan blazer is draped over wide shoulders and his shirt is a kind of blood red color. I purse my lips and ask him why he is standing in the middle of the hallway. I want to sound concerned without revealing too much information about what I already know.
He breaks from his midpoint stance and turns his head to look back down the hallway. He whispers as he swivels his head around, “My brother thinks someone in this hospital was a party to Jonathan’s assault. I did some light questioning and found out this guy here...” he points to
Maddox’s door, “was brought in the same night as Jonathan.”
I saw the connection before Brian even started talking. Part of me wanted to shout out at him and say, “No, Maddox is a good man.” I swear I see it in his eyes every time I look into those oceans of blue and green. I’m sure of it when he shoots me that charming, devil-may-care smile that sends chills up my arms faster than lightning. When I press my stethoscope to his massive chest and listen, I’m convinced I hear the beating of a good heart, as if a person’s characteristics could be determined by such a thing. But when I really try to think of Maddox’s redemptive qualities, I come up empty because I realize that I don’t really know Maddox at all. So I listen as Brian tells me his theory, which I am not sure he is legally permitted to do but when someone close to you is hurt you tend to circumvent rules.
“My brother isn’t thinking right,” Brian explains.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s usually pragmatic, but after Jonathan’s accident he abandoned all reason. In his mind, one plus one equals four, despite what I tell him. The fact is, I don’t have any reason to assume that that man in there...” Brian points to Maddox’s door, “was in any way responsible for Jonathan’s injuries.”
God, I hope not. I don’t want to admit, even to myself, that Maddox, could have done anything so heinous as what had been done to Mandel’s son.
“But if you could examine Maddox, and examine him for evidence that he was the one who attacked Jonathan, then what?”
“If I had that kind of tangible proof, I could definitely take him into custody.”
I chew on my lower lip, not sure if I want to hear the answer to my next question, but ask, “What specifically would you be looking for?”
“By now, with all the time that has gone by, I wouldn’t have much. If we had suspected him from the very night, we could have checked the fingernails of both of them for skin, blood, that kinda thing. We could have matched bruises, or identified the injuries sooner, but I don’t know.” Brian rolls his eyes and looks back down the hallway. I ask him to continue as he looks up at me with urgency in his eyes.
“My brother is hell-bent on Maddox as the guy, but I don’t think it was him and if it was... he wasn’t alone. There are too many injuries, too many different angles, it makes no sense.” He shook his head.
I blurt out, “He was drunk when he arrived. And he was violent.”
The thoughts fall like hail. What if Maddox is the attacker? What if he wasn’t just confused from his injury?
“A drunk would tire himself out and even if he is Mr. Muscles over there, he wouldn’t continue to beat on him. These kinds of fights... if that’s what we are talking about... a drunken bar fight, never last long. It’s one dumb fool throwing wild haymakers at another.”
“So are you saying that whoever hurt Jonathan had some sort of intent?”
“Don’t know for sure, but that kind of violence is usually propagated by folks who deeply dislike a person. Whoever assaulted Jonathan did so with the greatest degree of hate and malice.”
“Maddox has a wound at the back of his head. Have you ever heard of someone hurting themselves like that, you know to make it seem like they were hurt, too?” I keep the tone in my voice even, but my pulse is racing. What if Maddox was involved?
“Not specifically, but I guess it’s possible. What we need to do is find out where Maddox was when he got into a fight, if there are any signs that could link him to Jonathan’s assault, and get his statement.”
Brian tells me he is going to send officers to question Maddox. Before he leaves, I ask him if I can help in any way. He asks me, “Is there anyone he trusts around here? Is there any person who could get close enough to examine Maddox’s body without him suspecting they are looking for something?”
I feel the slab of regret roll down my throat like sap on a tree as I say, “I can do it. He trusts me. He won’t suspect anything.”
“Good, because when my guys show up to ask questions, he will probably be more cautious. How soon can you see him?”
Suddenly, I wish I had never agreed to this. I wish I hadn’t been working the night Maddox came in, and I wish he didn’t have those hypnotic aqua eyes that pull me in. I wish I had never been accepted in medical school and that Maddox didn’t have control of my heart. I wish I could die.
I finally spit out, “I’ll have to do it tomorrow. I am too busy now.” I agree to help him. I want to know for myself. I have to find out if Maddox was the guy who assaulted Mandel’s son.
“What about later tonight?”
“I’ll be on call. If I get a page while I’m with Maddox, I won’t be able to ignore it.”
We agree that I will see Maddox the next day. Brian extends his hand to shake mine. We shake and I turn to leave Maddox’s door. Except I hesitate. I can hear Brian’s footsteps fade off down the hall. Maddox’s door beckons me. I stand, staring down the hall with his door in the periphery of my sight. Part of me wants to storm off down the hall, get far away from Maddox, but my legs don’t budge.
I turn towards the door with my heart racing. My hand makes the first move, turning the handle of the door. I step into his room and close the door behind me. When Maddox sees me, he rises up in the bed. I tell him, “I just came to check on you.”
“Well, here I am. Just the same as before but obviously in need of another sponge bath.” He laughs and I laugh with him as I hover near the door, knowing full well I’m not supposed to be in here, not supposed to be doing--this.
I shuffle my feet, not knowing what to say, then ask a mundane question.“Is there anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable?” I hear the lust in my voice and realize how stupid that sounded, but he smiles anyway. He knows why I’m here. He knows it’s not my time to check on him. He gazes at me with those aqua eyes, so riveting, so sexy and then presses his hand to his ribs saying, “Actually, I could use your opinion. I feel like maybe something is broken, here...one of my ribs. No one said anything earlier but I figured they were more concerned with my head injury.”
I begin to walk over to the bedside. My heart races faster with each step I take toward him. I close my eyes as I fumble for the words I have to say, the words I want to say.
“Um, I need you to take off your gown.” The words fall out of my mouth. I know I have to ask this as a doctor, but I didn’t say it as a doctor. I said it as Lily, as a woman who’s been without sexual attention for too long, and I know that is wrong. I don’t care. I can’t explain even to myself anymore why I think the things I do and why I am taking risks like never before. All I know is that whenever I’m around Maddox, I lose control. I become this other person and my knees go weak with the first look from those magnificently sexy eyes. I know I’m treading on thin ice, but I don’t care. I just don’t care. It’s been too long since I had someone look at me the way Maddox is doing right now, too long since I felt the touch of a man’s hand, or felt a tender caress on my face. And all I can think about right now is that I’ll need to put my hands on his chest, that powerful brick wall of a chest. I’ll have to lean in close to him, to examine him, close enough to smell his scent, and how in the hell am I going to do this with those piercing eyes penetrating me?
I swallow hard and watch as Maddox, very carefully, slides his gown off over his head. My eyes are glued to his massive biceps as he does this. I can’t stop staring as I watch the muscles contract and release, creating ripples on the surface of his skin.
I can barely speak as I lean forward to touch him, my voice coming out in practically a whisper. “Here...you said?”
“Yea, it feels sore as hell.”
I go through the motions, palpating the area lightly with my fingertips at first and thinking the whole time that I’m slipping closer to the edge of my insanity. I can feel the warmth of his skin on my fingertips. It is enough to quicken my breathing.
I lean in closer to apply more pressure and ask, “How’s that?” I keep my eyes on his torso where my fi
ngers are. Maddox doesn’t reply. I lift my head up to look at him and he sinks his lips into mine with such passion and force. I feel an exhilaration crackling on my lips and fingertips. He slips a hand around my neck, pushing my hair up as he goes, pulling my head in to kiss me harder and the floor drops out from under me. I’m in freefall. My mind reels, my blood rushes and every fiber in my being is suddenly ablaze. I’m hungry for his lips, his tongue and he’s just as hungry for mine. It feels like an eternity goes by in a second and then I realize I’m kissing my patient.
Gasping, I push Maddox away with all my strength. I could get fired for this. I could lose my residency for kissing him. I can think of a million reasons why staying in this room is bad but none of them are terrifying enough to make me leave right now.
He’s got me. I’m hooked. I move in close to Maddox and barely get out in a whisper, “I could lose my job.” I’m fighting with myself to just keep from crashing my lips on his again and again. “If someone sees us together, it could mean the end of my career.”
Lily's Temptation Vol. 1 Page 8