Romantic Interludes

by TWCS Authors

  “What a nice guy you are,” I sneered sarcastically.

  “Christie, why are you making such a big deal about this?” He seemed truly startled, which set my teeth on edge. He didn’t have the right to be taken aback. He should have known he’d get caught eventually.

  “I don’t know,” I said with a dramatic wave of my hand. “Maybe because I haven’t seen you since I stopped taking your calls.”

  “I realize that, Chris.” He looked angry, getting that crinkle between his eyebrows and that stubborn set to his jaw. He always looked so hot when he was angry.

  Damn it!

  “Well, that wasn’t a mistake.” I placed my hands on my hips, trying to seem more confident than I felt. I hated confrontation, especially with someone who’d hurt me so gravely. It was hard to seem confident in front of someone who’d cut me so deep. “I haven’t worked with you because I requested a different schedule. So, like I said, what are you doing here?”

  “What? Why would you do that?”

  I fidgeted with my hair as I tried to think. Despite everything, I still cared a great deal. Just another reason to hate him. “Because, Mitch, things didn’t end well. And frankly, I didn’t want to be around you.”

  “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

  “Not from my perspective.” I turned to walk away, but I felt his large hand wrap around my upper arm to stop me.

  “Chris, why won’t you talk to me? Just tell me what happened!” His tone dropped into one of soft desperation. For a moment, I wavered.

  Not here, though. I wouldn’t do this here.

  “We need to get back to work.” I pulled away, avoiding his eyes. “Finish getting our assignments.”

  “Chris, please.” The pain in his voice almost got to me. Images of him at the restaurant, where his lies were revealed, quickly came to my mind, and I stiffened my resolve. I turned around and all but marched back to the assignment board, ready to begin my day. I hoped that bit of confidence would stay with me, but with twelve hours to go, it seemed almost impossible.

  Grace had assigned me two rotating beds and one ICU patient to start the morning. To say I’d been happy with that assignment was a grave misunderstanding. I hated having critical patients along with two fast-track beds. It was hard enough making sure all my i’s were dotted and t’s crossed for those picky ICU nurses, but to have two beds that were constantly filled with people who had a nagging cough or the constant runs put this day on my ubber-bad list.

  Today my critical patient was Mr. Thomas, a frequent flier in our ER. It seemed Mr. Thomas liked to drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney. As an eighty-five-year-old man, he didn’t give a crap about dos and don’ts when it came to his health. The elderly gentleman felt that his congestive heart failure and chronic obstructive pulmonary disorder were just fancy terms for “he’s had an off day.” This time, however, he’d presented with full-blown respiratory failure and had to be intubated and placed on a breathing machine. It seemed his off day went from bad to downright crummy, much like mine.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  Rob, the respiratory therapist, stood beside me running a check on the patient’s ventilator. I’d been performing my initial assessment on Mr. Thomas and hadn’t heard him approach. Truth is, I’d been leaning over my patient with the stethoscope pressed to his chest and listening to lung sounds for probably longer than I should as my thoughts lingered on my confrontation with Mitch. I glanced at Rob with the scope plugged into my ears and offered him a weak smile.

  “Yeah, just a little tired this morning.”

  “You sure?” He quirked his eyebrows as he stared at my awkward hovering position.

  I straightened up, cleared my throat, and removed the buds from my ears. “Yeah. Hey, what time was his last ABG drawn?” I knew the docs would want a fresh set of blood gases before they made their rounds this morning.

  Rob made some adjustments to the ventilator. “Five-thirty. He’s a little acidotic. Think he needs more bicarb?”

  “I’ll run it by Dr. Peterson, see what he wants to do.”

  “So, what was that about this morning?” I felt my face heat as I turned away abruptly and fiddled with the monitor. Maybe he’d meant something else. I didn’t think anyone had noticed.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Um, the flash move you pulled—one minute here, then gone the next.”

  Damn it! So much for that wishful thinking.

  “Something sure spooked you.”

  I tried to fish for a plausible explanation. “Oh, I had a call. An emergency. Family emergency. I had to take it.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Rob snorted, but luckily he dropped the topic. Being a freshly made bachelor, Rob knew when to dig into people’s problems and when to butt out. Thankfully, he changed the subject and saved us both from an awkward situation.

  “What are your plans tonight?”

  Ugh. I did not want to talk about Valentine’s Day.

  “I’m working, Rob.” I gave him a stern expression, hoping he’d read my body language and drop it.

  “I know that, Miss Pissy Pants.”

  I snorted. “Pissy pants? Really?” What were we, five?

  “Yeah. You’re moody.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Damn it! Damn it! This was the entire reason I didn’t want to work with Mitch. He screwed up my concentration and my mood, and people were noticing.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “I’m sorry.” I sighed, offering him a more genuine smile. “Rough morning, I guess. Haven’t had my coffee.”

  “I guess so.” Robert nodded. He had a pensive look, and I stifled a chuckle, knowing what that meant. “Maybe you’re having a bad vibe.”

  Lord, here we go!

  Rob had a theory that anytime someone mentioned the words quiet, slow, calm, or mellow in the emergency room we were doomed to receive a mass casualty catastrophe. He also had a thing for moods, which he now applied to his theory about me and my crap with Mitch. Good, maybe it’d keep him off the topic of my love life.

  “None of your voodoo nonsense, please.”

  “Seriously. I read an article about how humans can sense something is going to happen, kind of like the calm before a storm or how a bee can sense a person’s fear.”

  Now I felt bad. Soon he’d get riled up with superstition, so I held my hands up to stop his lecture on the theory of bad mojo in relation to frequent weather patterns before it began.

  “I’m fine, Rob. I promise.”

  He slapped his hand to his forehead. “Oh, no! The death words . . . ‘I’m fine.’ Watch, a five-car pile-up is going to happen and fill us up with vics. And it will all be your fault. Normally, I wouldn’t mind the work so much, but it can’t happen ’cause I’ve got a hot date tonight. By the way, nice try with the diversionary tactics.” He glared at me playfully as he handed me a heart-shaped piece of wrapped milk chocolate.

  “And we’re back to this?”

  “Come on, Christie. It’s Valentine’s Day. I know you got some plans for tonight.” He shoved a candy in his mouth, mumbling around the chocolate as he smirked.

  I tried to keep my mind from wandering to Mitch and the potential night we could’ve had together if things had worked out. I’d planned a romantic evening at my place—a candlelit dinner, an intimate bubble bath, and giving him a relaxing massage afterward. Whatever the setting, I would’ve been wrapped in his arms, content and happy with the potential of many more nights like that ahead.

  It turned out to be the dream of a naïve woman. One who’d opened her heart, trusted a man, and gotten burned—once again. Foolish of me to hope for any other conclusion.

  No, I’d be alone tonight, and I’d resolved myself to that reality.

  “Just me, a bottle of wine, and a very steamy romance novel.” I offered him a playful smile as a mask to my inner desolation.

  “Jeez. You women and your girlie-porn. The real thing is better, yo
u know.”

  I shrugged at his comment. “Not in my experience.”

  Rob laughed. “Oh, burn! Mitch better not hear you talking like that.” My heart dropped. “He may take it as some kind of challenge. Then again, you might like that sort of thing.”

  Rob knew a little about our relationship, although we’d tried to keep it as private as possible. Keeping things to ourselves around here was about as easy as hiding an elephant in a room full of mice. I honestly hadn’t thought people would notice our blooming love affair. For Rob to mention it in such a blasé matter made me realize how idiotic it was to think people wouldn’t take note.

  “Can we not talk about Mitch, please?”

  “What? I thought you two were, like, an item.”

  “Just stop, okay?” I met his eyes. I didn’t want to talk about this crap with him anymore than I did with Mitch.

  “What?”

  “Just stop.”

  “Okay. Fine. I get it.” Rob’s voice dropped to a sympathetic tone. I hated it because it made me feel pathetic, as if he pitied me or something.

  “Now I know where the mood swings are coming from,” he said under his breath.

  I saw red. “My mood has nothing to do with him.”

  “Pshaw. Like hell, Chris. That man chased after your cute behind as you took off to answer your ‘emergency phone call’. Don’t tell me your mad dash wasn’t about him.”

  I took a deep breath so I wouldn’t bite his head off. In reality, his questions weren’t out of place. What did I expect to happen? I’d come to work at the same hospital, in the same unit, and never see him again?

  The inevitability of our working together now seemed like a comical play, just waiting an opportunity to act out. That it’d taken place on Valentine’s Day, of all times, was most fitting. I had to handle this with kid gloves, act like an adult, and move on with as much grace as I could muster. Although my heart had been ripped out of my chest while still beating, I could come out of it with my pride still intact—at least it would appear that way. Swallowing against the lump of emotion in my throat, I turned to Rob and offered another pathetic smile.

  “Will you go back to work, please?”

  “Yeah . . .” He nodded numbly and turned back to the vent, dejected.

  “Your patients need you more than my love life does.” I tried at a bit of humor but it fell short.

  “Chris, I just want to help. You seemed really upset this morning,” Rob said, touching my arm in an attempt to comfort.

  “It’s complicated.” I looked at his warm hand and back up to his sincere gaze. Movement from outside the room caught my eye, and I saw Mitch glaring at me from the nurses’ station. I turned back to Rob. “And it’s private.”

  “Say no more.” He glanced up at Mitch as he came into the room and removed his hand from my arm.

  Mitch appeared a little miffed. “Hey, Rob. Have you seen the tube placement in the chest X-ray for bed F since intubation? I’m having problems venting in and something seems off.”

  “What are his O2 sats right now?” Rob’s tone was overly business-like, and I mentally rolled my eyes at his failed attempt at placation.

  “Last reading was ninety one percent and dropping,” Mitch replied as he folded his arms across his chest. “He was sitting in the ninety-five range ten minutes ago. Something’s wrong with your vent!”

  “I’ll be right over, Mitch.” Rob turned back to the ventilator without further regard. A second or two passed while Mitch stood there, and I could feel his eyes burning into me. I didn’t turn to look no matter how much I wanted to. I kept performing my assessment and ignoring Mitch to the best of my ability. Finally, he stormed off.

  “Yeah, your mood has nothing to do with him. You’re both bright and shiny, full of positive spirits this morning,” Rob muttered.

  “Shuddup.”

  The morning passed without incident, for which I was glad. Robert’s premonition of something terrible happening had only stayed in his goofy little mind, but he never passed up the chance to give me a “wait-and-see” face whenever we passed each other in the hall. He would scrunch up his brow, tilt his head, and cast me a silly grin as if to say, “You asked for it!” A couple times, I couldn’t help but laugh. He looked so ridiculous, and I was grateful for the distraction.

  For the most part, I’d been able to avoid Mitch. I didn’t see him again until well after my morning break. I caught him conversing heatedly with Rob over his patient in bed F. I’d never noticed the two having any sort of issue before. I figured they were having a disagreement on how to ventilate the critical patient appropriately. Chalking it up to being a symptom of the alpha male syndrome, I continued into the room of my new patient. She’d been admitted straight from Triage. Carrie, our twenty-something ER tech, was already inside setting the patient’s chart up. I smiled at the young mother holding her infant daughter in her lap. The baby girl sucked on her pacifier while her mother rocked her soothingly. I could tell the woman had been crying, and my mothering instincts kicked in.

  “Good morning,” I said in the warmest voice I could muster. If I could put my bullshit aside for any reason, it’d be for this one. Babies always made me nervous as a general rule, but to have the parents upset made me doubly anxious.

  “Hi,” the mother said as tears filled her eyes.

  “My name is Christine, and I’ll be taking care of your daughter.” I brushed my hand across the baby’s head in a comforting manner, checking for a high temperature or diaphoresis in the process. “Why did you bring Kelsey into the ER today, Miss McQueen?”

  “I think Kelsey may have swallowed something she shouldn’t have.” She hiccoughed.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Well, I think she might’ve swallowed some loose change she found on the floor.” She began crying in earnest, clutching her baby closer to her chest. Kelsey sensed her mother’s state and began to fuss.

  “Okay. It’s okay, Miss McQueen. Just relax and tell me what you saw.”

  “Well . . .” She took a deep breath. “She’d crawled into my bedroom while I was changing over a load in the laundry room. I swear I was gone for just a few moments.” Tears poured from her eyes as she looked at me imploringly.

  “It’s okay. Just take a breath. Kelsey seems fine right now, so there doesn’t appear to be any immediate danger,” I said, trying to keep both mother and child from hysterics.

  “Oh, thank goodness!” She seemed to offer up a silent prayer at that.

  “Well, we’re not out of the woods yet. So, why don’t we get back to what happened today, okay?”

  “Right. Okay.” She nodded quickly, seeming to gather her bearings. “I came into the room and Kelsey was sitting by a pair of jeans that were on the floor. She had something in her mouth and a quarter in her hand.” She started to cry again. “By the time I rushed over to her, she’d swallowed whatever she had in her mouth. I called her name and she gasped. She couldn’t breathe, so I hit her back and a penny popped out. Then she started crying and it didn’t sound normal. There was a wheezing noise.” This time Miss McQueen couldn’t keep the panic at bay. She cried, muttering how horrible a mother she’d turned out to be.

  “It was an accident, sweetie. Let me take a listen to her, and I’ll see if I hear the same sound, okay?” I said, rubbing her back to help settle her rampant emotions.

  She nodded numbly.

  I placed my stethoscope to Kelsey’s chest and listened to the baby as she breathed. At that moment, she wasn’t crying, but I did hear a slight whistling sound when she inhaled and exhaled. I worried that perhaps a coin had become lodged in her airway, but I didn’t want to concern the already overanxious mother.

  “I do hear something a little strange, so we’ll have the doctor evaluate her, okay? You did the right thing by bringing her in.” The mother nodded, seemingly glad to have her concerns confirmed. “We can do a couple tests to make sure everything passes appropriately. Maybe do an ultrasound of her tummy.
”

  “Oh, no. Will that hurt her?” The mother’s voice wavered.

  “No, it won’t. It’s a scan like the one you had when you were pregnant with her. Nothing invasive. We will know more about the plan of care after Dr. Peterson looks at her. He’ll be here soon. Is there someone we can call for you? Your husband?” Her hand went to her forehead, and I felt bad for her having to go through this alone.

  “No. It’s just me. Kelsey’s dad left when she was three months old. Couldn’t handle being tied down to one woman with a baby,” she said in a sour tone.

  “I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say, and I hated awkward situations. I looked up as Carrie finished with her admission process, calibrating the monitors and inputting the patient’s information into the computer chart. “We’ll be right back, okay?”

  Carrie followed me out and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “I bet she’ll never leave that baby alone for a second after this experience.”

  “It was an accident that could’ve happened to anyone. I’m a little concerned about that sound, though.”

  “Want me to move her up on the list?” she asked, moving toward the acuity board behind the nurses’ station.

  A huge widescreen television listed each ER patient, color-coding them to the level of seriousness based on presentation after the assessment.

  Kelsey’s predicament proved to be a hard one to determine. She didn’t appear to be in any distress. Her vital signs were stable and she didn’t seem like she was experiencing pain or difficulty breathing. Yet, when it came to kids, I always played it safe.

  “Yeah. If there isn’t anyone critical, move her up to a high acuity. I have a hunch something’s wrong.”

  “I’ll let him know.”

  “Thanks.” I grabbed the next chart out of the slot and began breezing through my next patient’s triage report.

  “Are you okay?” Carrie asked, and I barely managed to keep a growl from rumbling in my chest.

  “Why is everyone asking me that today?” In an attempt at nonchalance, I let out a playful chuckle, but I probably ended up sounding like a wounded animal.