by Penny Wylder
“I need you with me up on the top floor,” he says.
My face blanches. The top floor is where the private rooms are, an area that people have to pay a huge chunk of change to be treated in. “Is it bad?” I ask, reaching around him for the clipboard I’d been after in the first place.
“Just some scrapes and bruises. But it’s one of our board members herself. I need you to make sure she’s comfortable. I talked to your supervisor already. They’ll let you go early from here to handle her.”
I scowl and cross my arms. “You can’t be serious. Dad, we need all hands on deck down here.”
“I need someone I can trust to watch over her.”
My chest tightens. He trusts me? But that’s not enough. It can’t be. “If you trust me, Dad, then listen to me right now. I am needed right where I am.”
Dad takes another step closer to me, and leans in to whisper something where the rest of the nurses flooding around us won’t be able to overhear. “Maggie, most of these people don’t even have healthcare. You need to focus on the people who matter, the ones who can further your place in the world. How else are you going to get your name out there? I’m trying to help you here, to ensure that the right people notice the hard work you’re doing.”
I take a step back from him, anger rising inside me. Russ is right. I can’t let my father dictate my life for me anymore. I need to stand up for what I believe in.
I need to stop making excuses.
“Everyone is important, Dad. There are no right people, there are just people. Some we can save, and others we may not be able to, but we can try. Right now, the ones I can do the most good helping are right here on this floor.”
“You’re being naive if you think any of this matters in the grand scheme of things,” my father snaps.
“Of course it matters!” I yell, not caring who hears me. “People’s lives matter. Not just money or status.” Other nurses have stopped to stare. Lionel straight up gapes at me.
My father glances around at them all, his face going red. “Keep your voice down. It’s unseemly to behave this way in public.”
“Screw behaving,” I reply. “Get out of my way. I’m going to do my job. Unless you’d care to fire me?” I crook an eyebrow at him.
Someone, I can’t tell who, actually cheers. My father looks around again, his expression shifting into worry. But I know him. He’s not actually worried about what any of these people think about him. He’s just worried that our fight might somehow impact his bottom line here. Wealth and status, that’s all he cares about.
I realize it wasn’t just Russ hiding his homelessness from my father in med school. My father had to have willfully ignored how much his friend was suffering. You don’t just not notice something like that. Not unless you’re completely self-absorbed and oblivious to the reality of life for everyone around you.
But when I storm off, he doesn’t intercept me or try to stop me. Maybe he really will fire me later, who knows. I’m beyond caring at this point. If he lets me go, fine. In the meantime, I’m going to help as many people as I can.
Before I even leave the wing, though, someone claps me on my shoulder. Lionel, I realize with a start when I look up. He’s grinning. “Good to know the whole family isn’t completely heartless,” he comments.
“Guess it’s not a genetic thing,” I reply, a smile forming on my face too. Then we part ways, both of us back to our own jobs.
I think Dad will finally give up. That this will be the end of him trying to control me. But a few minutes later, I emerge from another call room to find him crossing the hall toward me once more, a furious look on his face.
“If you think you can just talk to me like that,” he starts. But he doesn’t finish. Because a moment later, a familiar voice interrupts from a nearby room.
“John? That you?” Russ emerges from a patient’s room. He must have taken a break from the OR to come visit one of this post-operative patients up here on our floor. It happens every now and then.
One glance at Russ and my heart squeezes in sympathy. His face is drawn, lines forming around his mouth and across his forehead from the stress. His forehead shines with sweat, and his hair is a mess, sticking almost all the way into his eyes. I resist a crazy urge to reach up and brush it back from his face. That would be the last thing I need right now, for Dad to suddenly realize what’s going on between Russ and me, when he’s already in a furious mood.
I avert my gaze, and force my breathing to calm, my heart rate to steady. I can’t afford to give away anything I’m feeling. Like the way my body is already tilting toward Russ, drawn into his gravitational pull almost against my will.
“Russ. Perhaps you can help me talk some sense into this girl.” My father crosses his arms and continues to glare in my direction.
I shoot Russ a guilty glance and look away again quickly. Shit. The last thing I want is to get into it right now. Or to mess up Russ’s life, if he defends me. “Just let it go, Dad,” I try, but Dad’s already talking over me, clearly not content to let sleeping dogs lie.
“I was just telling Maggie that she needs to get her priorities straight. Jane Showman is up on the top floor in her usual private suite, and she has some scrapes that need tended to. It’s something a nurse can handle on their own. That nurse ought to be my own daughter, to demonstrate how seriously this hospital takes it when one of our own board members is injured. But Maggie is insisting she can’t be bothered—”
“That is not what I meant, Dad, and you know it. I’m needed here. With the people who have actual emergencies right now.”
“We have a huge staff who are more than capable of treating a few wounded poor people on their own—”
“Let me stop you right there, John,” Russ says, before I can get another word in edgewise. I stop bothering to try and avert my gaze. I straight up shoot pointed stares at Russ now, all but waving my hands at him.
Stop, I want to yell, but I don’t dare. Don’t do this. Not now, not here. The last thing I want is to get Russ into trouble. Especially over me. Especially when Russ is the one who told me I need to stand up to my father for myself. It should be me arguing this point right now. Me getting into trouble potentially.
But it’s too late. One look at Russ’s face tells me I’m not going to be able to stop him now. He looks angrier than I’ve ever seen him. Like he could punch my father right now.
I’ve never even seen the two of them fight before.
My father looks equally shocked at Russ’s expression, and that’s before Russ even gets a word in.
“Your priorities have been out of line for far too long. You’re better than this, John.” Russ takes a step toward him, and my dad actually flinches, before he gets himself back under control, his emotions under wraps. “Do you remember why we both went to medical school in the first place? Our first year, the year we met, you told me why you were there. What did you say?”
My father’s jaw creaks, he’s gritting his teeth so hard. But he gets the words out. “To make a difference in the world.”
My eyebrows shoot upward. Almost exactly the same reason I went. But I’m nothing like my father.
Am I?
Dad’s already talking, explaining. “But don’t you see, Russ? The way we make the most difference, the most change, is by treating the important people first. The ones who can create a real difference in the world, the ones who can make bigger, more expansive changes than we ever could on our own. We have to play the game in order to win it, I always tell you that.”
“Yeah, well. Maybe I should have disagreed with you sooner,” Russ says, his own expression hard. “This isn’t the way, John. Letting innocent people die to cater to some rich woman with a papercut is not changing the world, and deep down, I think you know that too. Let Maggie do the job she came to this hospital to do.”
My jaw drops.
So does Dad’s. Neither of us have ever heard Russ disagree with him this vehemently. Normally Russ is all polit
e talk-arounds. But I guess both of us are changing, these days.
“You heard the man,” I say, with a brief smile for Russ.
He flashes me a broad one, not seeming to care if my father notices it, or the way his gaze briefly sweeps over me, before Russ stands aside and gestures for me to pass.
My shoulders tense. I almost expect my father to follow me again. But I stride past, on my way to my next room, and Russ joins me. By the time we emerge again from checking up on that patient, a few minutes later, the hallway is empty, and my father is nowhere to be seen.
11
We make it through the worst of the night. I wind up staying overtime, as do most of the other staff members. I hadn’t noticed before now how isolating it felt to have most of my nursing staff against me, until they weren’t anymore. Now I trade smiles with Heather, a joke here and there with Lionel. A few people bring me coffees throughout the night, and wave me off when I offer to pay them.
“I just never thought I’d live to see the day someone stood up to John Owens like that,” cackled Magda, one of the older nurses on staff, who insisted on buying me an entire donut from the caf. “Made my year, I can tell you.”
But the brief respite Russ and I got from my father doesn’t last for long. A few hours later, as the worst of the emergency rush starts to wind down, a page goes off. Not just a local one, but one throughout the entire hospital. “Margaret Owens. Russell Marks. Report to the director’s office immediately.”
My stomach sinks all the way through my feet and into the floor. Here it comes. The fallout of our decision.
But as nervous as I am to face the music, I don’t regret anything. We made the right decision. No matter what happens now, I’m proud of the work we did here tonight. We helped people, we saved lives. We’re making a difference.
I meet Russ in the stairwell up toward the floor where my father works. He reaches out to catch my hand and squeezes it gently, just once. I squeeze back, and let go before we reach the exit doors.
At Dad’s office, I let Russ knock. I’m too busy wrapping my arms around my midsection, trying not to freak out. I have very rarely ever disobeyed my father in my life. The few times I have dared to stand out in my memory as some of the worst days of my life. I just hope tonight isn’t going to be another of them. I’m so wired on caffeine and adrenaline, shaky from hours upon hours of overtime work, that all I can handle right now is to faceplant headfirst into bed.
You can do this, I tell myself, as Dad calls for us to come in. You can handle him.
I’m surprised, actually, that Dad is still here. Normally by this hour on a weeknight, no matter what was going on in the hospital, emergency or no, he’d already be headed home. I guess he made a special exception so he could be here to murder us when we got off instead.
The office is dark, the only light a desk lamp and the glow of my father’s computer. He’s sitting at his desk, ramrod straight, his hands folded on top of the desktop. He looks calm. Bad sign. The worst blowups I’ve ever had with my father have always come when he’s calm.
“Please, shut the door behind you,” he says.
Russ obeys. As for me, I stride over to the nearest chair and practically collapse into it. I know I should probably stay standing, to try and intimidate him or whatnot. But I can barely keep myself upright for another second. I’m exhausted, physically and mentally. Whatever’s coming now, I just want to get it over with.
Russ sinks into the chair beside mine. As for him, despite the bags under his eyes and the tired lines on his face, he looks every bit as stern and unyielding as my father. “You paged us, John?”
“I did.” My father looks from Russ to me, slowly. “You realize I could fire you for what you did earlier, Maggie? Ignoring a direct order from me.”
My mouth goes dry. My fists curl atop my knees. But I keep my chin firm, and nod slowly. “I realize that.”
“And Russ.” His gaze shifts back to his friend’s. “I could say the same for you. Trying to countermand my orders? What were you thinking?”
“Don’t blame him for trying to help me,” I interject. “It’s my fault. I’m the one who ignored your orders.”
“Maggie, it’s fine,” Russ murmurs beside me, but I shake my head.
“No. You shouldn’t have to risk your job for me. I can handle this on my own.” I raise my chin and stare back at my father. “You’re the one who was wrong tonight, Dad. If you want to fire me for having the guts to tell you that to your face, fine, do it. But don’t believe for one second it makes you right somehow.”
My father couldn’t have looked more gob smacked if he’d tried.
Beside me, Russ shoots me an unmistakable smile. A proud one. Like he admires me. And I realize, I admire that part of myself too. I’d finally found the strength I never knew I had or needed before.
“She’s right,” Russ says a moment later. He holds up a hand to stave me off. “And before you tell me not to risk my job for you, don’t bother, Maggie. I’m not sure I can stop myself from risking everything for you. Not anymore.” He holds my gaze for a long moment, long enough for me to read everything else he means in that deceptively simple statement.
My whole body tingles, from the tip of my head to my toes. I feel so elated I could fly. A smile starts to spread across my face, and I can’t stop it. I don’t want to, either. I feel the same way. I want to risk everything for this man. Whatever it takes.
Across the desk from us, my father stares. Back and forth between us, like he’s doing a calculation in his head. I lift my chin and stare right back, defiant. Let him think whatever he wants. He doesn’t scare me anymore.
For the first time in my entire life, my father looks away from me first. “I see how you both feel now,” he says, softly, dangerously. I’m not sure what that means.
I’m not sure I care anymore.
Without another word, he rises and reaches for his coat.
“John,” Russ starts to say beside me. “Be reasonable.”
“I am being reasonable,” my father replies, his voice shaking with barely suppressed fury. “I am reasonably going to leave this matter to decide in the morning. Tomorrow once everyone’s heads are clearer. That is as much leeway as you’ll gather from me, Russ, so I’d suggest you take it. You are both dismissed for now.”
I’m not sure whether that means fired or just released for tonight. I can’t bring myself to worry about it, not now. Not when every limb in my body feels shaky from spent energy and adrenaline. Not when my bed is not just calling my name, but screaming it.
I rise, expecting to go with Dad, the way I do every night. But he storms out of his office without waiting for me. When I jog after him, I notice he’s already taken the elevator. Guess I’m finding my own way home tonight.
Behind me, I hear soft footfall. Russ brings a hand to rest on my shoulder. “Give him time to cool off,” he says, sounding uncertain. “He’ll be reasonable.”
I snort. Russ doesn’t disagree with the sound. But at least we’re alone now. Safe, for one more night. With one last glance at the empty hallways around us, I lean back a little. My head rests against Russ’s chest. I can hear the beat of his heart in my ear where it leans against him. A moment later, his strong arms circle my waist, and he draws me back against him, swaying gently from side to side as he does.
“Whatever happens, I’m proud of you,” he says softly. “You stood up to your father. That takes real courage.”
I reach up to loop my hands around his forearms. I trace my fingers up and down the length of his arms, marveling all over again that I’m able to do this. Touch the man I daydreamed about for so long, so easily. “You were pretty great too. Giving him a piece of your mind.”
Russ chuckles softly, and the sound makes my whole body shiver, pressed close to him as I am. “To be honest, I should have said all that to your father a long, long time ago.”
“Yeah, well.” I let out a soft sigh. “That makes two of us.”
Rus
s’s hand slides up to tuck under my chin. He tilts my face toward his, and I kiss him softly over my shoulder. “Come on,” he whispers, his breath warm against my lips. “I think it’ll be best if you stay at my place tonight.”
I couldn’t agree more. With a shiver of relief, I let him take my hand and gently lead me down the hallway, out into the night. This time, when we get to his place after an hour of traffick in the beat-up old vintage car Russ drives—one that, I now realize, matches his whole apartment aesthetic too, old but in a stylish, purposeful way—we don’t even undress. Both of us are too tired to do anything but just collapse straight into bed, fully clothed. But when Russ gently reaches over to tuck me against his side, I let out a contented sigh.
After the day we’ve just had, this is somehow the perfect way to end it. Cuddled up together, resting before we have to face whatever tomorrow will bring. I couldn’t be with anyone more comforting right now, or who understands what I’m going through more completely.
As I drift off into sleep, with Russ’s arm draped around my side, I feel more safe and secure than I can ever remember before. Somehow, despite the bomb I know awaits us tomorrow, I am content. More than that: I’m happy.
For once, my father can’t ruin my life anymore. Because I’ve finally taken control of it. And I have the best co-pilot I could ever have hoped for, beside me at the helm.
12
The next morning, I wake up blearily to Russ’s alarm clock blaring, hours and hours before my angry, exhausted body wishes it would have gone off. I struggle to shift off of Russ’s arm as he flails over toward the nightstand to shut it off. I groan, and then tug the covers up over my head at the assault of sunlight pouring through his large windows. I thought those windows were really cute the last time I stayed over, but today I wish they had blackout curtains or that he lived in an underground bunker instead.
Beside me, Russ chuckles softly. “I know. I’m feeling it too.” He leans down to kiss my shoulder. Then the nape of my neck. I let out another sigh, this one less irritated and more contented.