Irregular Heartbeat

by Chris Zett

  Emily took a sip from the water bottle that rested between them on the bench. “You want some?”

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  Emily nodded and finished the rest of the small bottle. “What triggered all this…shit…” She gestured vaguely toward the hospital building. “It was my birthday as well. I said the same stupid sentence the daughter said. ‘Today is my birthday; he can’t be dead.’ As if fate or God or anyone would be interested in that.” She opened the plastic bottle and squeezed it until was folded several times over. She tried to close it again but used too much force, and the cap got stuck.

  Diana gasped. How could that happen? And not only to one, but two young women. What were the odds? She looked at Emily, and the pain emanating from her drove all thoughts of statistics from her mind. She pried the remains of the bottle from Emily’s hand, put it aside, and hugged her again.

  At first, Emily was stiff, but then she relaxed into the embrace.

  The shrill ring of a phone tore them apart.

  Emily searched her pockets but only stared at it until it stopped ringing. It started again after a short silence.

  Diana snatched it from Emily before she could answer.

  “Dr. Petrell for Dr. Barnes.” Diana’s voice was calmer than her racing thoughts.

  “Uh… This is Courtney. Where’s Dr. Barnes?”

  “Busy. Can I help you?” Yeah, calm and perfectly professional. Nobody needed to know they were hiding in the shrubs behind the hospital. And that Emily had been crying just a minute ago.

  “I just wanted to know the dosage of amoxicillin.”

  What kind of question was that? “For a child?”

  “No, normal adult. Strep throat.”

  “Look it up. Or ask a nurse.” Diana would have never called her supervisor with such a stupid question. Did Courtney think Emily was her personal computer?

  “So you don’t know either?” Courtney sounded gleeful.

  “Of course I know. Even the students know. Look it up and write it down for the next time.” Diana bit her lip. This was not her normal reaction to a stupid question, but she wanted to be there for Emily and not stuck on the phone with Courtney.

  “Hey, no need to get all riled up. It’s just a question. I’ll ask Liz.” Courtney hung up before Diana could respond.

  A smile tugged at the corners of Emily’s mouth, and the sadness in her eyes had receded somewhat.

  Looking at the phone, Diana shook her head. “That was weird. Why would Courtney ask such a simple question? It’s basic knowledge.”

  Emily grinned. “She asks basic questions to nearly all her cases. I guess she wants to let me know she’s hard at work.” She shrugged. “I’m used to it by now.”

  Diana offered the phone back to Emily and touched her hand with her own. “I’m sorry if I overreached. You just looked as if you needed a break.” She wasn’t just talking about rebuking Courtney.

  Around the phone that was still cradled between them, Emily squeezed Diana’s hand. Her fingers had regained their usual warmth. “I did. Thank you.” She put the phone away and picked up the bottle. “Thank you for listening.” She played with the cap again. “I’d better get back to work.” She didn’t move.

  “You’re welcome.” Diana wanted to say more. That she was glad Emily trusted her. That she cherished their moment of personal connection. That she wanted to be her friend.

  All of that was inappropriate. They were still at work, and Diana doubted that Emily was even willing to call it a friendship.

  Emily stepped closer, and this time she hugged Diana. Maybe she understood.

  Diana tilted her head to tell her that she had needed the time outside as well.

  In the same moment, Emily turned to say something. The words were lost as they touched face-to-face, lips-to-lips. Their breaths mingled, and unspoken words turned into a kiss.

  Diana couldn’t tell who had started it or who had deepened it, only how warm and soft Emily’s lips felt. They kissed slowly, more tender caress than passionate exploration. Diana’s world receded to the gentle touch that soothed away the tension of the last hour.

  After a moment, surprise gave way to eagerness, and they deepened the connection. Diana raised one hand to Emily’s neck and slid it along the soft hairline and softer skin to cradle her head. A few silken strands had escaped Emily’s bun and sent tingles up her arms.

  Emily moved her hands slowly up and down over Diana’s shoulder blades and pressed closer.

  Their breasts touched, and Diana gasped. The heat of Emily’s body seemed to burn through their several layers of clothes and melted her like a candle in the sun.

  This time it took Diana several seconds to recognize the ring of Emily’s phone for what it was. She stepped back, her heart racing and her breath coming much too fast.

  Her mind whirled. She’d never even thought about Emily that way, and now they had kissed? Not only kissed, but they’d practically made out like eager teenagers, something she hadn’t experienced for a long time.

  Emily searched for the phone in her pockets with shaking hands. “Barnes,” she nearly shouted into it.

  Diana straightened her clothes, trying to get a handle on things. What the fuck had just happened? Talk about inappropriate. How could her feelings switch from tentative friendship to full-blown attraction in under ten seconds?

  Listening to Emily’s one-syllable answers, Diana had no chance of gauging Emily’s feelings or the importance of the call. Emily’s voice betrayed no urgency, only her customary businesslike abruptness.

  “Okay, I’ll be there in a second.” Emily hung up and turned to go.

  “Emily…” Diana didn’t know what to say but didn’t want to let her leave without acknowledging what had happened between them.

  Emily hesitated and looked back at her. Diana couldn’t discern her features in the falling darkness. “Not now. Please.” Her voice was soft, almost vulnerable.

  Diana nodded, even though Emily probably couldn’t see her. “Sure. Later.”

  With a murmured “thanks,” Emily hurried toward the main building.

  Diana closed her eyes and inhaled the mild evening air. The scent of rosemary and something fresh lingered. Did it grow here, or did it belong to Emily? A shampoo, a lotion? She tilted her head back and opened her eyes. She wished she could see stars, but lights polluted the sky.

  A tiny dot of light in the distance grew larger and she only realized a helicopter was approaching when the noise of the rotor blades intruded. She sighed. A helicopter meant more work. And never easy cases. She’d better follow Emily inside.

  Chapter 10

  Despite how her visit to the Rainbow Home had ended the last time, Emily had left her car at home and walked the couple of miles to the University District. The chances of getting stranded in the rain on this Saturday afternoon were slim, and she didn’t trust herself to drive.

  In hope of clearing her muddled thoughts, she was on her way to talk to Diana about the incident in the hospital garden. In the day and a half since their series of night shifts had ended, she hadn’t been able to switch back to her normal sleeping pattern or to concentrate on her usual chores. Nothing had helped.

  If she was honest with herself, the problem wasn’t the distorted circadian rhythm; she had long ago gotten used to that. She couldn’t get her embarrassing meltdown out of her head. “And the kiss, don’t forget the kiss.”

  Only when a young mother holding on to a toddler with one hand and a shopping bag with the other gave her a wide berth did she notice she’d spoken the last part aloud.

  Great, here she was, roaming the streets and talking to herself. She wasn’t in command of her own thoughts and actions anymore, and that was unacceptable.

  She could understand why she’d had the meltdown in the first place, even if was highly unprofessional, but the
part that confounded her was why she had allowed Diana to witness it, let alone to comfort her. Her mother had taught her to be self-reliant, and she’d neither needed nor wanted anyone before. When had someone last held her like that?

  The memory of the hug suffused her with warmth like a summer breeze. Emily stopped walking and closed her eyes. The intensity of Diana’s embrace had blown away her pain, and the silent support had filled her soul with strength. A powerful drug that had befuddled her mind and could easily become an addiction. The kiss must have been a by-product of her dazed state of mind.

  That’s it. Emily opened her eyes, squared her shoulders, and resumed her walk at a brisk pace. Comparing it to addiction might be too extreme, but maybe if she treated it like one, she could find a way to cope with it. Now that she’d owned to wanting it, she could remove herself from temptation by erecting boundaries and making them clear to everyone involved. Diana would need to understand there were rules, even if they were unwritten, that separated them for their own protection. Not mixing work with pleasure was a good rule to live by. They would just be colleagues from now on. And really, that shouldn’t be too hard. In the midst of the emotional turmoil, she’d probably just confused Diana with the drummer from the beach who had starred in her dreams for far too long.

  An explosion of color announced that she’d reached the youth center. Street art, most of it posters in all shapes and sizes, decorated the walls of the Rainbow Home. Some were half ripped off, sprayed over, or covering each other. The house looked as out of place in the quiet neighborhood as Emily felt today.

  She wiped her sweaty palm on her jeans, opened the door, and stepped inside. Music—or rather a cacophony of drums and guitar sounds—drifted from the back of the building and guided her to her destination.

  Unwilling to interrupt the session, she lingered at the open door to wait for Diana. The collection of instruments looked as diverse as the players, and their faces all showed a similar mixture of concentration and enchantment. With her back to the door, Diana crouched next to one of the kids and explained something.

  Emily’s breath caught at the sight of Diana’s formfitting jeans, and the familiar heat in her cheeks told her that she was blushing. She quickly looked away. Remember? Resist temptation.

  “Hey, Doc! Do you have a minute?”

  The question startled Emily. She hadn’t noticed the approach of the girl who now stood directly next to her. She tried to come up with the name. She had seen her last time and remembered the girl’s laughing brown eyes and the black, curly hair that stood up in every direction. “Freddy, right? Nice to see you again.”

  Freddy nodded, which made her hair fly up and down.

  Emily would have laughed at the enthusiastic response if Freddy’s expression hadn’t been so grim. “Do you want to go to my office?”

  “No, it’s not about me. It’s just… I have a friend who’s in trouble and… She’s not here today and… When will you come here again?” The way she worried her lower lip with her teeth between the words revealed the awkwardness the young teenager hid behind her usual bravado.

  “The next planned appointment is in a couple of weeks.” And if she remembered her work schedule correctly, there wasn’t a good day to come here before that.

  “Oh. Okay, then.” Freddy’s gaze dropped to the floor.

  An unfamiliar surge of protectiveness toward the young woman surprised Emily. She squeezed Freddy’s arm. “Do you have something to write on?”

  Freddy went into the music room and brought a battered guitar case with her. She removed a stack of postcards and a sharpie from a pocket in the lining. “Is this okay?”

  Nodding, Emily studied the cards. They were the kind of free-advertising cards you could find anywhere in the city, but someone had written a name, date, and address all over the pictures. She quickly wrote her full name and the address of her hospital on the other side. “If you want to, you can send your friend to my ER anytime during the day in the next week. I promise I won’t charge her, and we can keep the visit off the record if she wants.” After a glance at Freddy’s doubtful expression, she added her phone number. “If they give her trouble at the admission desk, she can call or text me, and I’ll come out as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you.” Freddy took the pen and postcards back. She separated the one with the contact information from the stack and slid it carefully into the front pocket of her hoodie. “I’ll go and find her.” She slung her guitar case over one shoulder and left with a wave of her hand.

  What have I gotten myself into now? Emily had never done anything like that before, but the desperation in Freddy’s voice had left her with no other decent option.

  During her conversation with Freddy, the session seemed to have ended. Emily searched for Diana again and found her lifting a large drum. She couldn’t help admiring the lean but defined muscles of her arms and her formfitting T-shirt that revealed the edges of her tattoo on her biceps. Such a difference to the oversized scrub shirts she wore at work. What are you doing? Stop it! You’re here to talk, remember?

  Diana caught her looking, and a knowing grin appeared on her face.

  Busted. Emily froze, unable to greet Diana, who didn’t seem to have the same problem. She walked over, carrying the large wooden drum with one hand. She looked natural with it, confident.

  “Hi, what a surprise to see you here. A good surprise.” Diana put the drum on the floor and reached out to Emily, as if to hug her, but pulled back before they touched. “Were you looking for me?”

  The almost-contact made Emily’s head spin. She couldn’t find the words to tell her why she had really come. “I had to do some paperwork and…um…yeah.” She had to think of a diversion. “What kind of drum is this?”

  Diana picked it up again. “It’s a djembe. It’s handmade, from Morocco.”

  “It’s beautiful. I like the pattern.” Emily pointed at the intricately knotted strings covering the side.

  “The strings and knots are not only decoration, but they also keep the goatskin in place and tune it.” Diana cradled it under one arm and pointed out the various features.

  For once Emily wasn’t sneaking sideway glances; she was actually required to look at Diana’s hands, which made it hard to concentrate on the explanation.

  Diana stopped speaking and looked at her expectantly.

  Maybe those hands distracted Emily more than she cared to admit. She replayed the last words in her mind. Diana has asked if she wanted to play. Good idea. Maybe that would give her a reprieve to get back on track with her plan.

  “Sure. But I’m not really good with rhythm and such.” She had never played an instrument besides the piano, deemed the only proper choice by her mother. And that had not gone well.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll start simple. There are no notes or rules to follow. You create your own rhythm.” Diana led the way to a bench and gestured for Emily to sit beside her.

  Usually, Emily thrived on rules. She took care to learn the written und unwritten ones and stuck to them. This was outside her comfort zone, but she saw no way to explain that to Diana. She took the offered drum and placed it between her legs.

  “That’s right. You hold it with a little pressure from your knees so your hands are free to play. Tilt it slightly. The sound comes from the bottom, not the top.”

  Emily turned the top away from her, and the drum slipped from her grip.

  At the same time, Diana reached for it, and their hands collided.

  Heat spread from her fingertips to her core like a wildfire. Emily pulled her hand away as if she’d been burned. Concentrate!

  “Not so far.” Diana gently repositioned the drum. “Hit it a few times in different places.”

  Letting her fingers hover over the drum skin, Emily looked for the best way to begin. She had never done this before and didn’t know the right way to do it. And she di
dn’t like being unprepared for a challenge.

  Diana just smiled and gave her an encouraging nod.

  She hit it with her flat hand in the middle. It was not as loud as expected. And it sounded normal, not out of tune like the other instruments she had tried before. She gave it another pat, a little harder and on one side. Diana was right; the differences became noticeable as she hit it methodically clockwise.

  “Okay, you’re doing great. Now try different parts of your hands, just the fingers, the palm, the side.” She demonstrated with a fast sequence.

  The first time Emily tried to hit it with her fingers, she miscalculated and barely produced a soft thump. She frowned. Somehow Diana’s strokes sounded so much more powerful. After a few more tries, she got the hang of it and pounded a sort of rhythm by alternating different strokes on different parts.

  Suddenly, other beats mingled with hers.

  Diana must have taken another drum out of the storage closet and was now sitting beside her. When had she done this? Her rhythm faltered, and she stopped, embarrassed that she couldn’t concentrate enough.

  Diana paused her own play and leaned toward her. “Can I show you something?”

  Her hands poised over Emily’s drum until Emily nodded.

  Diana showed her a sequence of slow-slow-fast-fast beats on various sides of the drum.

  Determined to show at least a little progress, Emily tried to copy it. It was easier than expected. “Hey, I sound nearly professional now.”

  Diana laughed, made a go-on gesture, and resumed her playing. At first, it was almost the same rhythm, but as they played on, it subtly became more complex.

  Varying her strokes, Diana hit different spots between their shared rhythm. Her hands moved faster and faster.

  Emily tried to follow her example but lost her rhythm altogether and had to stop. Heat burned in her face and neck, and she didn’t know if it came from the exertion of playing or her embarrassment over her failure to follow the simple instructions.