by Kilby Blades
“You haven’t told me what your favorite movie is.” His hand was warm in hers and she liked the feeling. “And if you say Fight Club, I might have to say the word that rhymes with ‘slap wagon’.”
He laughed. “You would give up all this…” he said, motioning to himself, “…if my favorite movie were cliché?”
“I have high expectations of you, Michael—remember, we’re not like other people.”
He looked tickled that she had used his words.
“It’s a three-way tie,” he said finally. “Between Harry Potter, The Shawshank Redemption and Talk to Her.”
“Pedro Almodovar…” she said, “I love him.”
Michael looked at her.
“I know.” Clearly he’d seen Almodovar titles in her collection.
“So what’s the common thread?” she asked. “My movies star characters who want what they can’t have, or who can’t shake people they wish they didn’t want. Yours, on the other hand—”
“Have characters who value loyalty,” he finished for her. “And justice, and maybe just a little revenge.”
They continued walking, to where she didn’t know, but she thought about this for a minute.
“So, you consider yourself loyal.” It was more a statement than a question.
“Loyalty is underrated. My inner circle is small, but there’s not much I wouldn’t do for the people I love.”
Darby felt something akin to longing in that moment. Loyalty was the one thing that the people who should have been closest to her had always lacked. It made her think of her father.
“I need more friends like you.”
At that, he kissed the top of her head and tightened his grip on her hand. They continued walking and ended up at his place that night, to do what they did best.
STEPPING OUT OF THE ELEVATOR on the fourth floor, Darby made her way to the staff lounge in Labor and Delivery. The ER was dead, as was the Psych floor, so she had time to kill in one of her favorite places. Unlike the staff lounge in the Psych ward, a barren wasteland of a water cooler and a coffee pot with muddy contents that were always poorly made, overheated and stale, the lounge in Labor and Delivery always had a cornucopia of good things: half-eaten cakes with blue and pink icing, and savory meals provided by grateful parents wishing to thank the staff who had ushered their babies into the world.
Darby’s bad habit of forgetting to eat and her disdain for cafeteria food meant that she made her way up there whenever she got the chance. It wasn’t uncommon for the new nurses and aides to think that Darby was herself an OB and, once upon a time, that had been her plan. A few times when OB had been understaffed, and quite against hospital rules, she’d been recruited to assist in a birth. It made her fleetingly regret having specialized in psychiatry. Cradling newborns everyday was an enviable reward.
Upon entering the lounge, she immediately spotted her friend Anne leaning against the counter closest to the coffee machine. The heavyset nurse was drinking greedily from a comically large mug that read “The blood of Christ. The cup of salvation.” and pictured a chalice embossed with a coffee bean.
Darby shared Anne’s sardonic sense of humor, and between the two of them they had an impressive collection of what they lovingly referred to as ‘sarcastica’. Just as Darby had bought Anne the coffee mug she held, so also had Anne bought the one in Darby’s hand. It read ‘She was one cocktail away from proving his mother right.’ Anne Taintor was pretty much their idol.
“Someone brought in sushi.” Anne offered between gulps, already knowing Darby’s intentions and also knowing that her friend loved sushi. “That shit goes straight to my hips, but knowing you, you’d eat the whole thing and not gain a pound.”
Darby made her way to the refrigerator. ”You just get here?” she asked. The Labor and Delivery shifts were on different timing from hers.
“Ten hours in.” Anne said it softly. “But one of my moms is having trouble, so I’ll probably stay late.”
“Is she going to be alright?” Anne was one of the most fiercely caring people she’d ever met. She was irreverent and had a wicked sense of humor, and they were alike in that her bluntness rubbed some people the wrong way. Still, Darby had never met a single person who cared so much about her patients. If Darby ever wanted kids, and if it were possible for her to have them, she’d want Anne in the room.
“Maybe.” It confirmed something subtle that Darby had thought she’d seen in her face. “Tell me something good,” Anne diverted before Darby could find comforting words. “Did you stick an apple in Huck’s mouth and roast him slowly over an open fire? Did you meet a tall, dark stranger and are having monkey hot sex?”
Now it was Darby who must have given something away, she immediately knew when she saw Anne’s eyes widen.
“Are you seeing someone?”
Darby didn’t answer, not because she wouldn’t have confided in her friend, but because she realized she didn’t know the answer. Shoving a section of shrimp tempura roll into her mouth in order to buy herself some chewing time seemed like a good idea.
“Seeing may be too strong a word.”
“Are you fucking someone?”
Darby weaved her head from side to side, in the universal gesture for “maybe”, as she devoured another piece of sushi.
“A little bit of both.”
Anne stared at her unforgivingly.
“Yeah. You’re gonna have to elaborate.”
“So, there is a guy…and we are fucking…but we also go out together sometimes.”
“The rest of us call that dating,” Anne said slowly, as if Darby were in kindergarten.
Darby really needed to get it together, or else she would be dangerously full of sushi by the time she returned to her floor.
“Actually, it’s more like…an arrangement.”
“It’s not Prince William, is it?” Anne lowered her voice even though they were alone. That was what Anne liked to call Rich. She’d been candidly instructing Darby to ‘hit that’ for years.
“What? No. It’s not like that with us. Besides, Rich is married—remember?”
“Not for long.” Anne cast her a knowing look. “I heard they’re getting a divorce.”
Darby stopped chewing and spoke around a mouthful of avocado roll. “No shit…” She and Rich saw each other all the time. She wondered why he hadn’t said anything.
“Well if it’s not him, who is it?” Anne didn’t miss a beat.
“Just a guy. No one from the hospital. I met him at a wedding, one thing led to another, and—”
“And you made a new friend with benefits.”
Darby weaved her head indecisively yet again.
“Something like that.”
“You know that men and women can’t just be friends. Someone always grows feelings.”
Darby shook her head. “Not us. We made a deal. As soon as things get complicated, we break it off—no questions, no strings.”
Her friend continued to give her a skeptical look.
“Don’t give me that look—have I ever gotten attached to a guy in the time you’ve known me?” Anne didn’t need to answer. “That’s what I thought. I don’t know why people act like having a fuck buddy is weird. What’s weirder is the idea that two adults can’t figure out a relationship that works uniquely for them. Look at Oprah and Stedman—nobody understands their relationship but they’ve been together for, like, 20 years.”
“So you’re in a relationship with this guy?”
Darby felt caught.
“Yes,’ she decided finally. The moment she acknowledged it to Anne was the same moment in which she acknowledged it to herself. “But it’s not what you think,” she cautioned. “We’re not together, together. We serve a purpose to one another. He’s sick of eating alone. I’m sick of watching movies at home with my hermit crab.”
Though Anne still looked wary, the expression on her face softened a little. “And you’re sure that’s enough?” she asked carefully.
“I like him. And I like fucking him. But I’ve got too much of my own shit going on to have time for anything else.”
“So, what’s he like?”
Darby smiled as she began to dish about him.
“He’s an architect. Hotter than all get-out—like, Calvin Klein model hot, and he dresses like a model, too. He’s a total pro in bed. The sex is almost…spiritual.”
Anne sat next to Darby at the table, placed her elbow down and propped her chin up on the heel of her hand. Darby was thankful her friend didn’t mention her blush.
“He’s really smart. Mysterious, but not in a creepy way. A really good guy, but ambitious like me.”
“You’re right—that’s not the kind of guy girls fall in love with.” Anne smiled, the sarcasm in her voice joking and light.
“It’s not like that. We know that our careers come first. We understand each other.”
“Sounds like you have it all figured out.” Anne’s voice was some mix of admiration and skepticism. “You know I’m going to live this vicariously through you, right?”
“Still not dating, I take it?” Darby asked sympathetically. She knew Anne was having trouble bouncing back after a rough break-up with her girlfriend of five years.
“Worse than that. Susan’s getting married,” Anne said bitterly, speaking of her ex.
“Ouch.” Darby winced.
Darby listened sympathetically to Anne, letting her vent about her shitty ex, about the entire shitty situation. As she made her way back to her own floor some minutes later, she felt relieved to have told someone about Michael.
GT PRIME TONIGHT?
Michael’s text came in as Darby walked toward the nurse’s station. She’d only been on her shift for four hours and already her feet hurt and she was starving. But the nursing staff was changing over and she needed to be briefed on the status of her patients before foraging for her lunch. If she was lucky there would still be Fritos left in the vending machines by the time she could steal a moment.
If you can get a reservation.
She’d heard amazing things about that restaurant. She’d also heard there was a month-long wait.
I can do all kinds of things.
A flush came over her body as she remembered he could.
Let’s do it. I’m starving.
I meant for dinner.
I know.
Why are you starving?
Because I haven’t had lunch.
So grab something.
No time.
You have to eat.
I’ll find something to munch on.
She pocketed her phone as she reached the nurse’s station.
“Hey Darby,” Kathy greeted her sweetly. The long-haired blonde was one of the more senior nurses on Darby’s service and she was great at her job. Darby loved working with Kathy, not only because she never had to worry about mistakes, but because she loved their chats. Kathy had two grown sons of her own, and reminded Darby a little of her own mother. She’d been on pins and needles for days waiting for her grandson to be born.
“Hey, Kath,” Darby replied with a warm look. She’d barely seen her all shift. “Do we have a baby yet?”
Kathy pursed her lips and shook her head.
“Joey told me that if I didn’t stop texting every half hour, he’s gonna send Jase to take my phone.”
Jason was her other son. Darby feigned offense at the news.
“You’re a grandmother. It’s your sacred right.”
“That’s what I said,” Kathy agreed.
“I expect pictures,” Darby said with a smile. She then shifted reluctantly back into work mode. “So what do I need to know?”
Her friend launched into a full but efficient briefing. All of Darby’s patients had been given their meds. The two who were scheduled for discharge had just gone, and another who wasn’t scheduled to leave had checked himself out. One of the families wanted to talk to her about their son’s drug regimen. Radiology was backed up, which meant she still didn’t have some test results she needed.
Darby frowned at this news. She’d been in the ER for the past three hours. The test results should have made their way to psych in no more than one.
“I’ll call them,” Darby assured Kathy. They shared a dislike for how cavalier the labs could be about ignoring the nurses’ requests. The labs only paid attention when an attending called, which just made it a bigger hassle for everyone.
“There’s one more thing,” Kathy said. “One of Dr. Skubic’s patients is asking for you.”
Dr. Yelena Skubic was Darby’s peer, another psychopharmacologist with slightly more tenure. Not that Yelena acted like a peer—she was first in line to replace Huck and made sure everybody knew it.
“Who is it?” It wasn’t uncommon for patients to show up again and again. Addiction was a marathon, not a sprint.
Before Kathy could answer, Darby heard her name spoken urgently by somebody down the hall.
“No…what I would really like right now is to speak to Dr. Darby,” a firm voice said.
Darby held up a finger to Kathy, asking her to wait a minute while she tracked down the speaker. She grabbed her iPad and rounded the corner in the direction the conversation was coming from.
Darby immediately recognized Leslie Fields. She stood with her arms crossed, her face blotchy, and her eyes filled with desperation. Her younger sister Charlene was addicted to meth.
Yelena was trying to reason with her. “Dr. Christensen isn’t here. Right now, I’m Charlene’s doctor—I can answer any questions you have about your sister’s condition.”
For some reason, Leslie looked up at that moment, relief washing over her face the second she laid eyes on Darby. Briefly, she glared back at Yelena, recognizing her lie. In seconds, she and Darby were face-to-face.
They greeted one another with a familiar hug. Her sister had come in three times on the brink of death from overdoses. Darby had held this woman as she cried on more than one occasion.
“What’s going on, Les?” she asked. “How’s Charlie?”
Yelena’s lips pressed together.
“Something’s wrong. Her detox isn’t going the way it should.” Leslie looked terrified. Darby knew she’d been through this enough times to know the difference between what to expect and when to know something wasn’t right.
“Why don’t I look in on her?” Darby asked soothingly. She knew it would earn her Yelena’s resentment, but she trusted Leslie’s judgment. The way she saw it, addressing Leslie’s concerns was part of managing Charlie’s care.
“Can you let Dr. Skubic brief me?” Darby’s voice was gentle. “Right now, she’s the best source of information.”
Leslie nodded, fidgeting with her necklace nervously. “Why don’t you go grab something from the cafeteria?” Both women knew it was code for ‘Get lost for a while and let me handle it’.
Darby walked toward Yelena, ignoring her icy scowl. She had never been as cruel as Huck, but she seemed just as hell-bent on keeping Darby in her place. Those two were made of the same ugly. It was no surprise that Huck had chosen her to succeed him.
She wasn’t a beautiful woman, though she had a certain old-world charm. Her long brown hair fell over her shoulder in disorganized waves, her smart glasses complemented her face, and her short stature might have been considered by some to be cute. In fact, she might even have been considered pretty if her personality hadn’t been so black.
Brushing past her, Darby walked purposefully into Charlie’s room.
“When did she get here?” she asked, trying to keep it professional.
“Respectfully, Dr. Christensen, this is my patient—and I don’t need a consult.”
Meaning to disarm her, Darby softened her stance and thought of words designed to put her at ease.
“I know you don’t. But her sister has asked for one.”
“Yet, she remains my patient.” Yelena’s voice held more conviction now. “And it would be most helpful to the situatio
n if you deferred to me.”
“My patient load isn’t that heavy today.” Darby was a smooth liar when she needed to be. “All Leslie wants is a second opinion. I’ll give her one. It will corroborate yours, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
The other doctor pinned her with another hateful glare. Now Darby was losing her patience.
“She has a right to a second opinion.” Abandoning her soft approach, she went for intimidation. “When did she get here?” Darby repeated with staccato intonation as she pulled up Charlie’s chart on her iPad.
“The middle of the night,” Yelena said grudgingly. “She came in with heart irregularities, so we treated her for arrhythmia, and now we’re using saline to flush her system.”
“Did you do a tox screen?”
“I didn’t need to. She’s a known meth addict.”
Darby looked up at her then.
“She could be poly.” Darby said flatly.
“She’s been in here ten times. Every single time it’s been meth.”
Darby had been casting intermittent glances at Charlie as she went through her checklist of symptoms, but now she took a closer look.
“Does she look like someone who is detoxing from meth?” Darby knew her tone was accusatory, but she couldn’t help it. Yelena’s negligence could cost Charlie her life.
Yelena’s nostrils flared.
“We need a tox screen.” Darby moved to leave the room, to collect the phlebotomy supplies from the closet in the hall, when Yelena grabbed her arm.
“There’s no reason for you to get involved.”
Darby shrugged her arm away.
“If you’re right, you have nothing to be afraid of.”
After taking the blood sample, Darby walked it up to the lab herself. She got her friend Sid to do her a favor and process them on the spot. During the short wait, she reflected that it was unwise to show up the woman who would probably become her boss, but she couldn’t let disregard for safety protocols slide. She’d rather have a pissed off boss to worry about than a dead patient on her conscience.