by JA Lafrance
“No. Just a little lightheaded when I got up.”
“Take things slow. I’ll deal with that guy.”
“Is it true? Will I heal quicker if I get up and get moving around?”
“Generally speaking, motion is medicine. But that mostly pertains to joint, ligament, and muscle rehabilitation. Head injuries are a bit different.”
“Can I try again later?” He pauses and stares at me, but I can’t read his expression. “What?” I ask.
“I have always admired your...drive.”
“Are you telling me I’m stubborn?”
“I think the word I’d use is dedicated.”
“Mmmhmm. So, can I?”
“Get up and walk around?”
“Yes,” I say, growing impatient.
“Only a short walk. Let’s start slowly. And only if I’m with you. Just in case.”
“Okay.”
“And I’m going to check you over before and after.”
“Fair enough. When?”
He looks at his watch. “I’ll come back at 2 pm.”
“It’s a date.”
His head jerks up from his phone and locks eyes with me. Something passes between us, and even through his PPE, I can tell that he’s contented.
After lunch, the nurse pops in to remove the bandages from my arms. “I hear you’re going on a date this afternoon?”
I suddenly feel nervous and excited. My head starts to pound, but I ignore it. “He’s coming back to take me for a walk.”
“I left you a basin full of warm water and some things in the bathroom. I thought you’d like to freshen up and put on clean clothes.”
“Clothes? I don’t think I have any here.”
“Your parents dropped some off...there,” she says with satisfaction as she removes the last strip of bandages from my arms. “That looks really good.”
I look down at the pink healing skin. “They don’t even look like my arms.”
“You were very lucky.”
“I’m getting that, but something is bothering me about that night, I just don’t know what it is.”
“Sometimes, there’s a reason our mind blocks things out.” She helps me make my way to the washroom, where she’s thoughtfully unpacked all the things I’ll need to make myself look presentable. “Do you want me to stick around and help?”
I sigh. “I think I can manage on my own.”
She nods and smiles. “Good luck.”
I’ll admit, dressing is a challenge. I find myself sitting on the toilet trying to put my pants on, one leg at a time. Even though they are comfortable, casual, clothes I feel a hundred times better just being washed and dressed. I’m putting on a little mascara when there’s a light tap on the door. My heart flutters when I hear his voice.
“Are you okay in there?”
I open the door, and I’m met with the width of his muscular chest. My eyes trail upward. He doesn’t look this tall when he’s sitting on the end of my hospital bed.
“Rose? Are you okay?”
“Oh, yes. Sorry.”
“If you’re not up to this, we can just stay here.”
“No. I’m good. I want to walk around.”
He smiles and hands me something. “You’ll need these.”
I hate there are still new reported cases of COVID-19. I tuck the elastic of the face mask over my ears and snap on the rubber gloves.
“Slow and steady,” Grant reminds me. “If you start feeling fatigued or dizzy, you need to let me know right away.”
I nod my acknowledgement and promise to follow instructions. There’s something about his nurturing way that draws me closer to him. I suspect that he cares for all his patients in the same manner, but when I forced myself to open my eyes through a drug-induced haze, Grant was there...every time. Watching over me like an angel.
We’ve barely gone a few feet down the hall, and I feel like I just completed a 5k triathlon already. Every room we pass is occupied, and although the hospital is not usually a joyful place, there is an unusual melancholy and feeling of hopelessness here.
“Are these COVID patients?” I ask, noticing that everyone is isolated.
“No, anyone positive for COVID or recovering is quarantined on a separate floor. These patients are here for other reasons, but we’re still restricting visitors. For another week, at least.”
“That’s so sad.”
“You used to visit patients here. Even when you were off the clock, I used to see you wandering the hallways, sneaking in after hours to see people you rescued.”
I feel my face flush. “I didn’t think you saw me.”
“I always knew when you were here.”
I furrow my brow. “How?”
“Whenever you were near, I could smell roses.”
I laugh once. “You got me. It’s my favorite hand lotion. Was it that bad?” I must be starting to sway a little because he reaches down and holds my elbow.
“It wasn’t bad at all. It’s a very calming fragrance. I thought it was kind of cute you thought you were getting away with something.”
I find myself staring at his lips. “How soon do you think they’ll move to phase three of getting back to normal?”
“Soon, I hope. There’s something I want to do.”
There’s a sly smile that curls on his lips, and it makes my heart beat a little faster. Feeling lightheaded, I point in the direction of a few chairs in the hall. I pick up a stack of newspapers someone left on the seat and quickly sit down. As I move the papers, the week-old headline catches my eye. I feel like all the air has just been knocked out of my lungs. Grant immediately holds my wrist and takes my pulse. I’m aware that he’s talking to me, but I’m blocking him out while I read the article about the fire. I feel my chest rise and fall in short anxious breaths as the memories that have been eluding me come back with lightning force. I can faintly hear Grant’s voice calling my name as he pulls the newspaper out of my hands and kneels in front of me.
“Rose. Rose, answer me.”
I focus on his face, and it pulls me back to reality. A reality that I don’t want to be in. My hands start to shake. “Ryan didn’t make it out,” I whisper.
Grant holds my trembling hands and strokes my cheek. “No. He didn’t,” he confirms.
Tears fill my eyes. “We knew those kids were trapped on the sixth floor. The chief said it was unsafe and already engulfed in flames. I ignored him and Ryan went with me. We found them trapped in the stairway, wrapped in blankets they had soaked in water. The walls were coming down around us. Ryan cleared a path and insisted I get the kids out, and he’d be right behind me.” Falling tears turn to a hard sob.
Grant sits beside me and pulls me into his arms. I lean in against his chest, and he holds me, protectively tucked beneath his chin. “I’m sorry,” he whispers as he presses his lips to the top of my head. “I’m so, so sorry.”
I don’t know how long we sit in silence before he stands and walks me back to my room. “I can stay the night if you need me to.” He pulls the blankets over me. “I’ve ordered you something to help you sleep. The nurse will be down with it shortly.”
“How long did he live? Was he in pain?”
“Rose...”
“I need to know,” I plead.
He rakes his fingers through his hair and sighs. “He died instantly. They pronounced him dead at the scene.”
I purse my lips and try to hold back the tears, but the grief is too strong. The nurse arrives with the promised anxiety meds, and in no time at all, I feel my eyes close. During the night, I feel the blankets go taught around my legs as if someone is sitting on the side of the bed. I open my eyes and try to focus on the figure there, but I’m just too tired.
When I awake the next morning, Grant is sleeping in a chair beside my bed. He looks more comfortable than he did sitting at the bottom of the bed in the middle of the night. His facemask dangles from one ear. As if he knows I’m watching him, he opens his eyes and sits up. “How
did you sleep?” he asks.
“I had weird dreams.”
“I suppose that’s understandable.” He brushes my hair away from my face and smiles. “If you’re up to it, you can go home today.”
I feel a strange mixture of excitement and dread. “Did I miss the funeral?”
He frowns. “Yes, you were still in a coma after surgery to reduce the swelling in your brain.”
“It should have been me.” I look down, feeling guilty and distraught.
“Hey.” He sits on the side of the bed and lifts my chin with his finger. “Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself. You have many things left to do in your life, and it wasn’t time for you to leave us. And...and I’d miss you.”
“You would?”
“I would. I know you and Ryan had a thing, but I consider you a friend. Not to mention, I couldn’t stand to do any of those boring fundraisers on my own.”
I cock my head to the side. “What?” I interrupt. “A thing? What thing?”
He raises one brow. “You know. You and Ryan.”
“As in dating?” I asked, shocked.
“Yes,” he says awkwardly. “Weren’t you dating?”
I shake my head. “No. Where did you get that idea?”
He shrugs and looks at me in a strange way. I can’t determine if it’s relief or confusion.
“Is that why you never asked me out?”
“You were always with him. I’m not the kind of guy to try and romance away another man's girl.”
The door opens, and my parents walk in, squashing the moment and making a lot of noise. Grant gives me a small wave as he leaves the room while my mother annoyingly fusses over me. In moments, she’s got me ready to go and has my dad pulling the car up. I walk down the hall and past the nurses’ station with great clarity and presence of mind. Every masked face is now a familiar one. I try to get Grant’s attention, but he’s busy with other patients, so I quietly exit.
My parents insist that I stay with them for at least a few days. I’m quite glad, although I’d never tell them that. On the way home, against his better judgement, my father caters to my request and takes me to Ryan’s grave. It’s an agonizing but necessary thing I need to do. When we get home, I’m so exhausted that I fall asleep, sitting in a chair in the living room. I doze on and off, feeling like I’m suffering from a sedation hangover. I can’t stop thinking about Grant. How did I miss it all that time? How did I not know? The COVID update station plays constantly on the kitchen T.V., and something the newscaster says captures my attention. I open my eyes and blink them rapidly. I must be dreaming or still drugged. “Ryan?” I whisper. The heavy feeling in my heart begins to lift, and I smile at the sight of him sitting on the couch in front of me. “It was you, sitting on the end of my bed. I thought I was going crazy.”
“What are you waiting for?” he asks.
“I can’t drive,” I explain.
“There are always excuses for not looking after your happiness,” he scolds. “Call the squad and go get him.”
“Who are you talking to?” my mom asks as she enters the room.
I look at her and back at the empty couch. “No one.” Nervous energy runs through me, but I find myself dialing the fire station. I pace back and forth on the driveway until they arrive.
“I heard you need a ride,” the chief yells as they pull up. I smile. This is my life. It’s my career and my everything. But I need one more thing. I need love. I need Grant.
The squad makes one heck of a noise as we pull up out front of the hospital, and although I turn down their request to escort me in, they ignore me and do it anyway. Patients, visitors, and staff all stare at me, making me feel more nervous as I make my way to the 6th floor with my entourage. Funny, I only left here a few hours ago, but it’s already humming with life as family and friends begin to visit their loved ones. My nurse grins from ear to ear when I approach. I don’t have to tell her why I’m there. She knows.
Grant looks up from his clipboard and pauses, looking shocked.
“Hi,” I say awkwardly.
“Hi. Are you feeling okay? Is something wrong?” He looks past me at the squad filling the hallway and crowding the space.
“It’s phase three,” I inform him.
“I know. I heard it on the news.”
I move closer, and I feel the energy around us ramp up. “What are you doing here?” he asks nervously.
I close the space between us. “I told you. It’s phase three. I’m expanding my circle of friends.” I lift my hand to his face and gently unhook the straps from his ears and remove his facemask. He leans in to meet me halfway. I press my lips against his in a kiss that starts sweet and tender and grows with deeper passion as Grant drops his clipboard and pulls me to his chest. I ignore the high school howling and cheering from behind me as the squad gives me their approval.
When I pull away and look into Grant’s eyes, I swear for a moment, I see Ryan standing behind him, smiling. I know that it couldn’t be him. But I realize that I have never been alone. I’ve been blessed with many guardian angels in my life. Some of them are just watching from above now.
About Tricia Daniels
Tricia Daniels lives in a small town in Southern Ontario, Canada. She’s just a normal woman, struggling to pay the bills and trying to raise her kids as a single parent, in a home where they feel empowered, supported and loved. Between her quick wit and twisted sense of humor, she found she has a passion for writing.
https://authortriciadaniel.wixsite.com/triciadaniels
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Soaked
M. Jane Colette
Because picking up a girl in the plumbing aisle of a hardware store should be on every woman’s bucket list. — Soaked
Soaked
Janet was on edge. She was losing time. She had timed everything perfectly: arriving at the Lowe’s five minutes before opening so that she’d be in and out and at her neighbour’s apartment fixing her sink as soon as the hot little nurse got back from her night shift at the Rockyview Hospital ER. But now, she was already late. She had forgotten to take into account the twenty minutes she’d have to wait in the physically distanced line-up before getting into the store. When would she remember that this was the new normal? Probably never. She was losing time, losing time—where were the flex hoses? Goddammit, they were always on the third shelf from the top, left side of Aisle 27. They’d been stocked there for the last three years. For the last decade. Who changed the location of such a basic product, ever? Who? What half-brained idiot…
“Can I help you?”
“Where the hell are your compression fittings?” Janet said. She sounded rude and impatient, even to her own ears, even from behind her mask. The employee, standing six feet away from her, looked, at best, confused. Maybe even frightened. Janet took a deep breath and spoke again, trying to be, if not polite, at least less pissed.
“I’m looking for sink flex lines. They’re usually here. Where are they?”
“Um.” The employee, who was not wearing a mask, bit her lips. They were, Janet noticed despite herself, very nice lips. Full and dark, unpainted but a little glossy anyway. Very kissable lips, in fact, and in most other circumstances, Janet would shelve her impatience—she wouldn’t be impatient at all, actually—and she’d give those lips a lot of attention, and look at the cheeks, chin, and nose and eyes—oh, those were really lovely eyes… and… She’d never picked up a girl in a hardware store, and it seemed to her that this should be a bucket list item for any lesbian.
But not today. Today, she needed the damn supply line. And a cut-off valve.
“Um. Could you—flex line, you said? What does that look like?”
Janet stared at the employee, whose beautiful lips were suddenly less appealing, with contempt.
“You’re kidding me, right?” She peered at the woman’s name tag. “Freddie? That’s your name? Freddie, you work in the plumbing department of Lowe’s and you don’t know what flex lines look li
ke?”
“Um.”
“Oh-my-god, I’ll just find them myself. If you could stop blocking my way?” Janet started moving down the aisle.
“I’ll get someone who can help.” Janet heard a trembling voice, on the verge of tears, calling out after her, and she felt like shit, but she was losing time, she was late, and how could anyone hire such thoroughly incompetent people? And she was late—and, yes! Here they were. She’d only be fifteen minutes behind schedule. She felt her anger recede—and her shame at being rude increase—and she turned around to apologize to, what was her name, Freddie.
But the inexperienced employee with the kissable lips was gone.
Where was she?
“Why did that take so long?” Dark and Stormy complained when Janet got back to the truck.
“COVID-19 precautions. You know the drill,” Janet snapped. “Just drive. Next time, you go in.”
“Babe, you think you took long? You know why you always do the shopping, and it’s not ‘cause I can’t resist shiny things—it’s ‘cause store security just can’t resist following anything with melanin around the store.” Dark and Stormy rolled her eyes. “Chill, babelicious. We’re almost on time. Straight to job number one, or you determined to squeeze in that freebie for hot nursie first?”
“We can’t be banging around in her house when she’s sleeping after her night shift,” Janet said. “I’ll be in and out in five minutes.”
“Fifteen,” Dark and Stormy corrected. “More if she’s there. Fuck. You and straight girls.”
“You don’t know that she’s straight,” Janet muttered.
“I do and you do. Anyway. What we’re gonna do—you’re gonna stay in the truck and get the invoices prepped. I’m gonna do nursie’s sink. And then we’re going to be almost back on schedule. Do you think people are having more plumbing problems since lockdown? Or is it just my imagination?”