by Ruby Cruz
As for myself, I wished for someone falling in between the range of dependable boyfriends and my mom’s flames. I wanted the passion and the romance but I also wanted them to last, not gutter out after a few hot couplings. I wanted a partner, someone I could love and respect and who would give me those in return. I wanted it all.
~
I was standing at the nurses' station, checking patient charts when I felt a tap on the shoulder. It took me a moment to realize who'd approached me and when I did, I could feel the flush begin to creep onto my face. It was the coffee guy, George Wickham.
“I thought that was you. Iced latte. I almost didn’t recognize you without your niece.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I'm picking up a patient to go to Morristown.” He gestured vaguely to the stretcher parked outside of room 538 and to the other personnel milling about. “Is he yours?”
I shook my head. “Check with Kate, the one in the blue scrubs over there.”
He glanced in Kate's general direction but appeared to be in no hurry to speak with her. “You should probably make sure the telemetry box was removed so I don’t make off with it.”
“Already done, but I’ll have Kate double check since I know you’ll be the one transporting the patient.”
George flashed me the dimple. “What’ll it take for you to believe I’m actually a trustworthy guy? One cup of coffee isn’t enough?”
“You could’ve gotten that iced latte by any number of means: misdirection, offering of sexual favors…”
His gaze shifted briefly before his eyes fixed on me again. “Well, then why don’t I sweeten the deal? How about drinks?”
“How about them?”
His partner called out impatiently, “Yo, George, we moving out or what?”
“In a minute,” he answered without taking his eyes from me. “I’ll friend you on Facebook, Lizzy Bennett.”
I nodded wordlessly as George flashed me another smile. I watched him as he pushed away from the counter and approached Kate. I didn’t realize I was still watching him until Luke snuck up behind me and nudged me in the back. “Elizabeth Anne Bennett, you have been holding out on me. What yumminess was that?”
I sighed. “That, my friend, is George Wickham.” I explained to him about my encounter with George at the coffee shop, to which he replied, “And all you said was thanks and sent him on his merry way? Shame on you.”
“I didn't think he was actually interested.” Luke rolled his eyes at me. “You, Lizzy Bennett, are way too hard on yourself. Why wouldn't a hot, single guy like him be interested in a hot, single gal like yourself?”
It was my turn to roll my eyes at him. “We flirted for two seconds, that's all.”
“Fair enough.” He checked out George, who was heading into the patient room with Kate. “Still, that is one tasty piece of man-flesh.”
“Now you're starting to sound like Lydia.”
He gasped in mock horror. “Ouch. You must really like him for you to insult me like that.”
I didn't respond, just watched from beneath my lashes as Kate and George helped wheel the patient out of the room. Dr. Darcy appeared at my elbow with a page of written orders for one of my patients, so I busied myself with making sure the orders were entered in the computer and scanned to pharmacy. By the time I finished with the work, George and his crew had left.
~
Later that night, after hanging out with Luke at Riley’s Pub following our shift, I was driving home when my car began to make an awful sputtering sound. The car seemed to jerk a couple of times on the road until, all of a sudden, I smelled burning oil.
“Shit.” Steam billowed from the engine. Blowing out a breath, I climbed back into the driver’s seat and searched the glove compartment for my insurance card. “Thank God for roadside assistance,” I mumbled as I thumbed the number into my cell phone. After being told it would take about twenty minutes for the tow truck to arrive, I sighed and attempted to keep cool in the rapidly warming interior.
A few minutes into my wait, headlights shone in the distance and I eagerly jumped out of the car to flag down the vehicle. As it approached, I noticed the shape was far too sleek to be that of a bulky tow truck. The Mustang slowed and I backed away more closely to the relative safety of my car. The car stopped and idled as a figure exited.
“This is getting to be a habit,” George greeted, his teeth flashing. “Need a lift?” Despite myself, my insides warmed. He really did have a great smile.
“Tow truck is coming in a few minutes. I need to wait for it.”
“I could take a look and see if you’ll need to get it serviced, in which case you’ll need a lift anyway after they tow it to the garage.”
I could feel my face flushing but still I demurred. “Thanks for the offer but I don’t want to inconvenience you too much. I can just call a cab.”
“Young woman alone on a dark and deserted road…chivalry dictates I at least wait with you until the truck arrives. At the very least, my car is air conditioned.” He gestured to his Mustang. “I insist.”
Hoping that I exuded enough nonchalance, I shrugged and said, “Okay.” As I followed him to his truck, I asked, “I guess I’m lucky you happened to be driving by. Are you headed back from the hospital?”
“You could say that,” he answered enigmatically.
He opened the door for me and held a hand out to help me climb into the passenger seat. He took his seat behind the wheel and turned the volume down on the radio which was pounding out the latest Kanye track.
After a beat, I asked, “So, were you headed home before you decided to play the Good Samaritan?” I mentally kicked myself. Hadn’t I already asked that question?
“Actually, I was visiting a friend at the hospital.”
“Oh. I hope he’s okay.”
“He’ll be fine, nothing eight weeks in a cast and some PT can’t fix.”
George didn’t elaborate further, but he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat. When the lack of conversation became embarrassing, I asked, “How did you know this was my car?”
“I didn’t. Lucky coincidence for you.”
“Lucky me.”
“So, what’s with the Facebook thing? When I went to look you up, there were about five hundred Elizabeth Bennetts in the area and none of them were you. Usually when I offer to friend a girl, I don’t get the run-around.”
“Look, I’m not being purposefully evasive. I’m just never on the computer and when I am I’m not on Facebook much.” I didn’t want to tell him that the extent of my internet usage extended to online shopping and occasionally searching for kid-friendly videos for Chloe. I didn’t see the point of spending all of my free time on the computer when I had a full-time job, a kid to watch, and somewhat of a social life.
“You don’t even have a Twitter account?” He seemed genuinely shocked. “Everyone does Twitter.”
“I don’t. I don’t see the point of talking to my friends through the internet when I see them every day.” God, I sound hopelessly lame right now.
“Well, that’s a relief. I thought you were just blowing me off.” He grinned at me again.
“Who says I wasn’t?”
He chuckled. “Fair enough, though, in your current situation, you may want to wait until after I drop you off at home to cease all association with me.”
“What type of Good Samaritan abandons his charge on the side of the road? I believe you’re charged with my safety until I’m deposited in my place of residence.”
“I didn’t realize there were rules of conduct for my kind.”
“I think it’s in the contract of everyone who chooses healthcare as a career.”
“Ah, I see.” He gazed at me in the dark interior, almost as if sizing me up. “Do you have your cell phone?”
I reached into my purse and retrieved it. My smartphone was a bit beat up and somewhat dated, but at least I didn’
t have a completely archaic model.
“Here, let me see.” Wordlessly, I handed the phone to him. He activated the home screen, then opened up the contacts page and started thumbing information into the phone. “There. Now you can’t use your lack of internet usage as an excuse when you ignore my texts. I’ll just know for sure you’re blowing me off, then.”
He worked a few more seconds, sent himself a text from my phone, then handed it back to me.
“Are you headed home now?” I asked him.
“No, I had someone else I needed to see before crashing the night.”
Horrified, I exclaimed, “Why didn’t you say anything? You don’t have to wait with me. I don’t want to hold you up with your plans.”
“Relax, it’s nothing important. He can wait a few minutes until I drop you off at home. Good Samaritan rules of conduct, remember?”
“Still, shouldn’t you call him or something let him know you’ll be late? It’s already after ten.”
“He’s fine. He keeps late hours.” Yellow lights began to flash from an oncoming vehicle. “I think your tow truck is here.”
Reluctantly, I opened the door and emerged from the car. Twenty minutes later, my car was safely deposited at the car shop and George was pulling his car up in front of my house.
I turned to him as I unbuckled my seat belt. “Thanks for the air conditioning. And the company.”
“So, Lizzy, if I texted you, would you ignore me?”
“I can’t promise I’ll respond right away, but I won’t ignore you.”
“Good. I’ll text you. Be safe.” He climbed back into his car, revved the engine, and drove away.
~
Four days and four hundred dollars later (ouch!), my car was fixed just in time for me to return to work. After the first half of my shift, I almost wished I hadn’t. “Someone call security!” I screamed and prayed someone would hear me. My hands were on the patient’s shoulders as I tried to keep him in bed and prevent him from ripping out his chest tube. Mary immediately ran into the room and her eyes went wide at what she was seeing. “Get me some Ativan, now!” I ordered and she ran out of the room. The chest tube was still in place and I hoped there was enough slack in the tubing to compensate if the patient broke free and managed to climb out of bed momentarily.
I didn’t see the fist until it had already made contact with my face – my right cheek, to be more precise – though the pressure of the hit made me feel as if my right eye had exploded. I fell backwards and a sharp pain burst from the back of my head, then everything went dark.
When I came to, everything was chaos. I was still on the floor, that much I knew, since everyone else suddenly seemed so much taller than me. I couldn’t focus, though, and the sounds seemed to rip through my skull. Rapid footfalls, loud voices, more screams from the patient.
“They’re raping me, they’re raping me! Help! Help!”
“Give him 5 mg Ativan IV stat! Where are the restraints?!”
“Watch his mouth, he’s trying to bite!”
“It’s the aliens! They’re here! They’re raping me!”
“Lizzy, are you okay?” A much softer voice asked me. I tried to focus on the owner of the voice, but my brain still felt fuzzy. A bright light. “Lizzy, can you hear me?”
I blinked. “Yes, I’m fine.” I pushed the light away. Everything was becoming clearer. “Charlie. I’m sorry, he sucker punched me.”
“I can see that. You’ve got a pretty nasty bruise forming. Maybe you should go to the ED, get a head CT to be on the safe side. You might have a concussion or worse.”
“No, I’m fine. Barely even dazed.” He began to pick up his penlight again and I waved him away. “Don’t you dare shine that light in my eyes again.”
Charlie smiled. “Is this fine gentleman your patient?” He gestured to the patient, who was struggling against his restraints but more weakly now that the sedative was beginning to take effect. The room was filled with no less than half a dozen security guards and nurses. A second year resident was listening to the patient’s lung sounds and Kate was attempting to take vital signs.
“That’s right. Please tell me we’re transferring him to the ICU.”
“I have to consult with the attending but, yes, probably. Given his history of alcoholism, he looks like he’s probably going into full-blown DTs and with the amount of Ativan he’s been getting, he might well be intubated. I’ll just have to wait until I hear back from Dr. Darcy.”
“Darcy’s on call?” Great. “He was the one who refused to transfer him earlier when I suggested it.”
“I’ll talk to him, get an ICU consult. This guy really should be on a drip.”
“That’s what I told him earlier. This guy drinks a quart of vodka a day. The PRN doses of Ativan aren’t doing shit.”
Charlie appeared sympathetic but left me to finish transcribing the verbal orders for the sedatives and restraints which had been administered. The security guards still hovered around the patient though the fight seemed to have left him.
As I cleaned up the mess left from the debacle, the patient finally became somnolent and loud snores emitted from his fleshy mouth. He was a large man, easily three hundred pounds. After examining his extremities for proper circulation, I couldn’t help but notice how large his fists were. I began to feel lucky he hadn’t completely knocked me out, and then began to feel foolish for attempting to restrain him myself. That had been a stupid maneuver on my part.
The nursing supervisor came by and ordered me to write an incident report and get checked out in the ED. “We need documentation,” Perry told me when I began to protest. “If you end up with a head bleed or concussion or a scratched cornea, we need documentation.” Because I did have a dull headache, I gave in.
Kate agreed to take care of the transfer to the ICU. Fortunately, the ED wait wasn’t long. One of the ED nurses cleaned a cut overlying the bruise blooming on my face and placed a steri-strip there. The bump on the back of my head wasn’t bleeding but the doctor ordered a CT scan to rule out anything internal. Just as I was going stir crazy while waiting for the test, there was a knock. I was more than a little shocked to see Darcy pull the curtain aside.
“May I come in?”
“Uh, yes, of course.” Even though I was covered with a sheet, I suddenly felt naked and exposed in my hospital gown. I swung my legs over the side of the bed; lying down around Darcy felt like lying down in front of a hungry tiger.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. Perry was the one who forced me to come here, you know, so in case I develop migraines down the road I can’t blame it on an undiagnosed head bleed or something.” I didn’t mention the Tylenol they’d administered for my headache.
“Look, I…I apologize for not listening to you earlier. I know this may have been prevented had I trusted your judgment and allowed the ICU transfer. You’ll be happy to know Mr. Krycek is currently sedated on a lorazepam drip as you had requested.”
“Why didn’t you transfer him earlier?” I didn’t even attempt to disguise the note of blame in my voice.
“I honestly believed the detox protocol we initiated would have been sufficient to allow him to detox safely. Obviously, I was incorrect in my assumption.” Darcy appeared thoroughly uncomfortable and I reveled in his discomfort.
“So you’re saying you were wrong.”
“Yes.”
“Then apology accepted.”
He cleared his throat and gestured to my face. “That looks like it hurts.”
“A little.”
“You should keep some ice on it.” He pointed to the ice pack sitting idly in my hand. “It’ll help with the swelling.”
“I know, I just got tired of holding it there.” I replaced the pack to my face. “They say nurses make the worst patients.”
“Only behind doctors.” I spied a ghost of a smile on his lips.
My nurse peeked her head around the curta
in. “Oh, Dr. Darcy. I’m sorry to interrupt.” She blushed.
“It’s all right, Noreen, I was just leaving.” He inclined his head in farewell before brushing by her to exit.
She blew out a breath. “Man, he is so hot.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Did that patient knock your brain clear from your head? He is one hundred percent, certified smoking hot. The way he sort of looks into you with those dark eyes and that voice, mm mmm.” She fanned herself dramatically. “Even an old woman twice his age can see how fine he is.”
I smiled at her. “You’re not an old woman, Noreen.”
“Thanks for saying it, honey, but the mirror says otherwise.”
~
After I returned from the emergency room, Perry gave me the rest of the day off. When I protested, she said, “You just got clocked in the face by a three hundred pound man and you have a mild concussion. I don’t care if the ED docs say you’re fine, take the evening off, have a glass of wine and thank your lucky stars nothing worse happened. Your patient’s in the ICU now so the census is down, and it just so happens that your current census requires only four nurses.”
“But what if they get an admission?”
“There are three hours left to the shift. The others can handle it. You’ve already given report on your patients. Go home, get some rest, and I’ll see you soon.”
As much as I hated leaving work, I was somewhat grateful for the opportunity to go home. I felt as if my face were going to fall off, it was so sore.
When I got home, Jane and Chloe were at their weekly play group so I had the house to myself. I was too keyed up to take a nap and my mind couldn’t focus on reading or watching TV. I examined my face in the mirror and winced at the purple on my cheek. Vanity had me reaching for the makeup to cover it and I didn’t want to worry Jane more than she already would when she heard what happened.