Prescription for Love

by Radclyffe

  “Yep. What do you think?”

  “We promised Flann and my mom we wouldn’t go out, but…” Blake wrestled with the dilemma. “That was about us being safe, right?”

  “Right. We didn’t discuss contingencies and emergencies. Flann wouldn’t want us to stay in the house if it caught on fire.”

  “I think letting the chickens starve constitutes about the same level of emergency as the house burning down.”

  “Totally.” Margie’s eyes sparkled in the slanted light from behind them, and the gold in her hair almost looked like a halo, but her grin was anything but angelic. Her tilted smile said she’d take a risk and not mind facing the consequences. “Flann will kill us if we get hurt.”

  “So will my mom.” Blake knew they both knew they’d most likely get grounded and lectured at, which they’d survive, but he hated disappointing his mom. And he didn’t want to look bad in front of Flann. He pictured the little yellow fluff balls and how eagerly they went after the water. They must be hungry. “It’s not raining anymore. What are the chances another one of those twisters will come through?”

  “I don’t know. This is the first one I’ve been around for.” Margie looped an arm around the porch post and swung out and back. “It’s only gonna take us five minutes, max, to get to the barn and back.”

  “I say we do it.” Blake stepped down onto the ground.

  “Yep. Me too. I’ll get the light.”

  Margie led the way to the driveway with the flashlight, holding Blake’s hand. “There’s a tree down just there. We can skirt around it.”

  “What about power lines?” Blake hopped to avoid a huge puddle and almost managed it. On the landing, water soaked into his right tennis shoe. He tried not to think about what might be in the water.

  “The lines are buried out here, so we should be okay.”

  “Great.” Blake eased off his grip on Margie’s fingers, but didn’t let go. It was really dark.

  The chicken food was just inside the tack room in a big aluminum can. Margie played the light around until they spotted an empty feed bucket. Blake filled it with a couple of inches of chicken feed. “You think we should look for the kittens?”

  “I want to,” Margie said, “but if we go toward the back and anything comes down, we might as well hope it buries us for good.”

  Blake sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess this is as much as we can do right now.”

  “Wait—listen.”

  Blake tensed. Shadows filled the barn, and not being able to see beyond the small cone of light made everything extra spooky. “What?”

  A sound like an animal being eaten alive came from somewhere close by. Blake jumped and dropped the feed pail. “What is that?”

  Margie laughed. “Rooster.”

  “Where?”

  “He’s probably hiding nearby.”

  “How do we catch him?”

  Margie handed Blake the feed pail and looped her arm through his. “We don’t. Come on.”

  They picked their way quickly but cautiously back to the porch, and Margie propped the door open with a chair and set the flashlight on top. “Can you find another dish for the food and feed those guys?”

  Blake found one on the drain board, filled it from the pail, and placed it in the box with the chicks. They chirped and pecked at it, and he knew they’d made the right decision. “They’re good.”

  “Okay.” Margie turned out the rest of the lights in the kitchen and plopped down on the floor with her back against one of the cabinets.

  Moving carefully in the near dark from the little bit of illumination from the flashlight, Blake straddled a wooden kitchen chair and folded his arms on the back. He rested his chin on his arms. “What are we doing?”

  “Look,” Margie said excitedly.

  Rooster landed in the doorway, swiveled his head back and forth a few times, and hopped into the kitchen. He fluttered his wings and pooped.

  Blake winced. “Oh boy. Something tells me he’s probably not supposed to be in here.”

  “Crap.” Margie laughed. “But there are extenuating circumstances, right?”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to be a lawyer?”

  “Family of doctors, remember?” Margie said. “Besides, I’m not interested in verbal arguments. I like doing things.”

  Rooster one-legged it over to the box of chicks. Blake got ready to jump. Weren’t male animals—birds, whatever—supposed to be dangerous around babies? “He won’t hurt them, will he?”

  “I wouldn’t ordinarily put the babies in with the big ones, but Rooster’s not your ordinary chicken. Let’s see what he does.”

  Margie sounded calm, but Blake wasn’t so sure. Rooster peered over the box, trumpeted a few more earsplitting screeches, and fluffed up his feathers. A few more screeches and he hunkered down beside the box and appeared to go to sleep.

  “All good,” Margie said. “Anyhow, I’ve been thinking I might be a vet.”

  “Yeah,” Blake said, “I can see that. It’s still medicine, but you’d be outside more, and animals are so cool.”

  “More cool than people sometimes.” Margie moved the flashlight and set it upright between them, enclosing them in a circle of light beyond which the night ruled. “Wait till you’ve spent some more time with some of the bigger animals.”

  “I’d like that.” Blake had never thought about learning about animals, but then why would he. He grew up in the city and did what city kids did. He didn’t know anything about farms or animals, and the idea of finding out hadn’t interested him. Until now. The only other time he’d ever felt quite so happy inside had been when he’d escaped into a fantasy world between the pages of a book. Spending more time with Margie would be cool. She was smart and logical, but adventurous too. She was just fun to be around. “You said the other day I could go to the 4-H thing with you. I could still do that, right?”

  “Sure. You live here now. I’ll take you with me when we go to the convent to look after the kids.”

  “Whoa, back up a minute. Convent kids?”

  Margie smirked. “The nuns over at St. Mary’s raise goats, and it’s kidding season. At least the second round of kids for this year. 4-Hers volunteer looking after the babies—feeding them and holding them and stuff. Makes them friendly and calm. Some of us show them at the county fairs. They’re way cute, and it’s really fun.”

  “Okay, sure. If you think it will be all right.”

  “Trust me, everybody likes volunteers.”

  Blake worried he’d stand out. The new kid. The different kid. The weird one. “I’m not gonna know anything.”

  “You will before long.” Margie nudged his foot. “I’ll teach you.”

  “Thanks.” He sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the chicks scrabble about and then slowly quiet. The night grew heavy with silence, like the air was growing thicker. “Weird, without any noise—nice.”

  “You miss the city?”

  “Not so much. I mean, I miss having everything I want being really convenient—restaurants and shops and movie theaters and things like that. But I don’t miss how crowded and dirty it is. You don’t really notice it when you live there, until you get out here and there’s no garbage on the sidewalks.”

  “No sidewalks.”

  Blake laughed. “Yeah, that too.”

  “I guess it’s hard leaving your friends and school and everything, though.”

  Blake’s heart jumped. He really liked Margie, and he didn’t want to screw up being friends, but he hadn’t really had anyone to talk to except his mom for a while. The support group was okay, but it was different talking to the group. They understood where he was coming from, which was super, but they weren’t there when he went to school every day. They weren’t part of his everyday life like Margie might be, weren’t maybe going to be friends like she was. He hoped. Margie was different, special. He wasn’t sure how far he could go. What was safe to say. “I miss a couple of them, yeah.”

&nbs
p; Margie tilted her head, watching him like she was waiting for more.

  “You know, some of the kids I went to school with, my friends, they had a hard time with the trans thing.” There, he’d said it out loud. Trans. He’d owned it. Now he just had to wait to see what happened. Again. A sick feeling rolled through his stomach. Maybe he’d just screwed up.

  “Why?” Margie asked.

  The big hand squeezing Blake’s chest let go. Hopeful, he said, “I keep trying to figure out why, exactly, so, you know, maybe I can explain better. My best friends were these three girls and a guy I’d gone to school with forever. When I told them, one of the girls weirded out even though she tried to pretend she was cool with it. Allie said she felt like she’d been sharing secrets with a guy all along, and she never would have said some things if she’d known. And how now she couldn’t be herself with me.”

  “Wow,” Margie said thoughtfully. “It seems kind of backward, don’t you think? Because you were sharing secrets with them too, probably.”

  “Yeah. But you know, not the big one.”

  “True. I can see how it might be hard when your really close friends have to think of you differently—like if one of my sisters said she was really a guy. But they’d still be them, right? I mean, you’re still the same person. It’s on the other people to see the real you.”

  Blake sat down on the floor next to Margie and wrapped his arms around his bent knees. The sick feeling was gone, and a flame of excitement kindled in his middle. Maybe this would be all right. “I guess when you find out the person’s different than you thought, you don’t know quite how to act. Because we expect guys to be a certain way and girls a certain way.”

  “I think we ought to just take people as they are, girls or guys or whatever, as they put themselves out there, you know?” She laughed. “I guess you must. Since that’s what you’re doing. Being the way you know you are.”

  “I’m kind of glad we moved up here.” Blake hadn’t told his mom, but in a way, it was a relief to be in a new place and maybe have a new start. “I do miss my friends, but I feel like here, I can just be me and no one will be comparing me to the me they think I should be.”

  “Are you gonna tell the school…the teachers, I mean?”

  “Yeah, I think so. When I’m eighteen, I can legally change my sex—you know, on forms and stuff like that, but I don’t want to wait to be treated like…like me.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense.” Margie pursed her lips “So, what about…the other. You know.”

  Blake let out a breath. He knew. “I haven’t talked to my mom yet, but I’m ready. I just started the shots a couple of months ago, but I’m ready for the surgery. For the top, anyway.”

  “You should get my sister to do it,” Margie said with conviction. “She’s the best.”

  “You don’t think it’s too out there? A lot of trans guys don’t ever have surgery.”

  “Do you think it is?”

  “No. It feels…not right this way.”

  “Well then, you should do it. You know who you are, right? You know what feels right for you. I think you should do whatever feels right for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Margie bumped his shoulder with hers. “I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who’s brave.”

  Tears pricked Blake’s eyes and he blinked to keep them from falling. He’d heard it before, from his mom, from his therapist, from the others in the trans group. Margie was the first friend he’d made since he’d determined to be out with everyone. She hadn’t freaked out. She understood. She gave him hope.

  “You think we can sleep down here with Rooster and the chicks?”

  “I don’t see why not.” Margie jumped up. “Let’s find some pillows and stuff.”

  “And popcorn?”

  Margie grabbed his hand. “Most definitely.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Abby counted eight emergency vans in the line extending down the drive from the ER entrance. Who knew how many had arrived in the time it had taken them to free Flann and drive over. “Stop and let me out here.”

  “Wait.” Flann grasped her arm. “You’re in no shape to see patients just yet. You’re wet, cold, and…ah, dirty. Plus your hand needs some cleaning up.”

  Abby couldn’t argue. Flann was never more annoying than when she was right. Abby’s legs below her shorts were scraped and mud caked, her shoes were a ruin, and her palm stung from the dried blood and grit stuck to the lacerations. “Fine. I need you to get me some scrubs. Where’s the locker room?”

  “Presley,” Flann said, “pull around to the side entrance. I’ll take Abby up to the OR for a shower and some scrubs.”

  “All right.” Presley swung around the circle in front of the main entrance to the white colonnaded brick building and into the side lot. “I’m going to head to the ER to see what the situation is, but I want to try Harper first.” She pulled out her phone and swiped the screen. “I’ve got a signal.”

  Abby dug out her cell. She had a weak signal but at least there was hope the service would be back to strength soon. “I’ll try the kids.”

  After a minute, Presley sighed. “I’m not getting through.”

  “I’m not either.” Abby powered off.

  “The circuits are probably overloaded with everyone trying to check in with family and friends,” Flann said. “We’ll have to just keep trying.”

  “I should have gone with Harper,” Presley said.

  “Harp knows these roads. She’ll be fine,” Flann said. “You’re the boss—you need to be here, especially if we have to call in reinforcements.”

  “And I’m going to need to decide that,” Abby said. Blake and Margie were as safe as they could be. She would’ve felt better hearing Blake’s voice, but that comfort would have to wait. From the looks of what was ahead in the ER, they were probably already at capacity. “I’ll have a recommendation for you in twenty minutes, Pres. Let’s go, Flann.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Flann held the door as Abby climbed out and led her up the walk to the side entrance.

  The security desk was unmanned. Abby followed Flann into the stairwell to the second floor and into the OR lounge. A redhead with a curvaceous body undisguised by her faded green scrubs let out a cry of delight when she saw Flann.

  “Thank God you showed up. Glenn called up from the ER to say she’s got a couple of cases that will need to come up soon. You’re the only surgeon who’s shown up so far.”

  “How urgent?” Abby asked.

  The nurse gave her an inquiring look.

  “Jeannie,” Flann said, “this is Abby Remy, the new ER chief.”

  “Great initiation,” Jeannie said. “Both level threes but Glenn said they shouldn’t wait too long in case we get backed up overnight. An open tib for a washout, and facial lacerations on a teenager that are too extensive to do in the ER.”

  Flann said, “We’ll get cleaned up and head down there. How many OR nurses do you have in?”

  “Three so far. And one nurse anesthetist.”

  “That’s a start. See if you can get another team together so we can run two rooms.”

  “Already on it. I’ve been calling, but I can’t reach a lot of the on-call staff. Hopefully everyone knows to show up.”

  “I’m sure they do, but they might not be able to get here.”

  “We’ll make it, Flann. Just let me know what you need.” Jeannie barely took her eyes off Flann’s, her tone eager and just a little breathless.

  Abby recognized the signs of infatuation. So far every woman she’d seen around Flann appeared a little bit smitten. She suspected Flann’s effortless charm worked on just about everyone, gay or straight. Then again, maybe Flann and Jeannie had history—or something more current. Pushing the flare of annoyance aside, she said, “We should get going.”

  Her tone was more forceful than she intended, but Flann just nodded and pointed to the door marked Surgeons. The other read Nurses.

  “Seriously?” Abby ask
ed. “Not Men and Women?”

  “The hospital is a hundred years old. It’s tradition.”

  “It’s archaic.”

  “Good thing you’re friends with the CEO—you can take it up with her.”

  “Not my battle. The locker rooms in the ER are appropriately labeled.”

  “I kind of like making the guys jump for their pants.” Flann grinned, pushed the door open, and yelled inside, “Rivers on deck.”

  No one answered, and they trooped in.

  “We’ve got two showers in the back.” Flann pulled scrubs from a metal rack and looked over her shoulder. “Mediums?”

  “That should do it.”

  “You can go ahead. I’ll rustle up some OR towels. Won’t be fancy, but it will do the job.”

  “Thanks.” Abby took the scrubs and, expecting the bathroom to be a grungy example of male dominion like the ones she’d had to use from time to time in training, was surprised to find the long marble counter with inset sinks, the white octagonal floor tiles, and the brass fixtures all sparkling. Like everywhere else in the hospital, the elegance of an earlier age remained. She stacked her dirty clothes and clean scrubs outside the last shower stall. The water was hot, plentiful, and blissful. Her palm stung as she carefully scrubbed it free of dirt and debris, but she took her time. She couldn’t afford to get sidelined with cellulitis. She used soap from the dispenser to wash her hair and quickly rinsed off.

  She would’ve stayed under for a half an hour if she’d had the choice, but she didn’t. She’d have to ignore her aching muscles and stiff joints for now. Less than five minutes later, she pulled back the plastic curtain and checked outside. A stack of green OR towels sat next to her scrubs. They were just large enough to cover her as she wrapped one around her torso and stepped out to dry off.

  Flann rounded the corner, a pair of OR clogs in her hand, and stopped abruptly. “Hey. Feel better?”

  Abby tried to pretend she wasn’t standing there nearly naked, but she felt the flush rise up her chest to her throat. The towel came to just the tops of her thighs. If she breathed too deeply, she’d give Flann a show. She resisted the urge to grab another one and hold it up in front of her. Flann had undoubtedly seen naked women before, and she had changed her clothes around dozens of other women over the years. This was different, though. This was a woman whose briefest gaze made her heart race. She grabbed another towel and briskly rubbed her hair with one hand and surreptitiously held the other down against her middle. “About a million times better.”