Imani #2
He leaves and while I wait on Draya, I start to read the agreement myself.
It seems to be pretty straightforward. I see the salary and medical benefits for one year as well as the paid three weeks of PTO.
I’m reviewing the revocation of the agreement section when a pretty sister with a laid bob walks into the conference room with my coffee and muffin.
“I’m glad you asked for more time,” she says then winks.
“Thank you,” I sincerely say. While driving in this morning, I had a cup of my lemon zest tea and one of my croissants.
I’m not hungry at all; I truly just wanted to test Bryan and I won.
I have a little smidge of regret now for sending her on the fool’s mission.
“I’m actually too nervous to eat or drink now. Maybe someone else wants it? Sorry.”
“Pete, definitely will take it. You’re good,” she says before walking out.
As soon as she does, Draya calls. “Hey. So?” I answer anxiously.
“So, it looks good. What you wanted is clearly there. You will get paid this Friday, the entire lump sum. Taxes are going to kill you; you know that right?”
“I do,” I sigh. “But it’s still going to be a nice ass amount.
I might even take some time off before looking at other jobs.
This was my dream one and now…this shit,” I admit.
The realization that I am losing my dream job at my dream hospital hits me like a ton of bricks.
Sadness, disappointment, and rage flood my soul at once and I fill my eyes tearing up.
Loudly, I inhale and exhale to keep my tears from falling.
“E, don’t let them see your crown tilted.”
“I won’t. It’s always on straight. Well, until I fuck up the doc. I’ll take it off then because I don’t want to corrupt my queen image,” I say and we both laugh.
“Well, then you will like this. You can kick his ass and it won’t violate this severance.
The money. The only way they can seek it back is if you talk about what happened during the surgery.
Now, you just have to hope they don’t call the police on your ass.
If they do, I’ll hop in Violet and be there in a few hours,” she says referring to her deep purple Hellcat.
“I know you will and I appreciate that. Send me your email address too, please and thanks again, girl.”
“Anytime. Sending it now. I love you, sign it, and call me if they lock yo’ ass up,” she says before ending the call.
I take the pen, initial in the three spots, then sign and date the last page.
When I’m done, I stand and walk to the door.
When I open it to walk out, I notice Bryan heading my way with a box so I return to the table and my seat.
As soon as he walks in, he places the empty printer paper box on the table then reaches for the agreement, glances at the pages, then nods. He signs it next.
“Write the email addresses on this,” he says after pulling a small piece of paper from his pocket.
I do then give it back to him. “I’ll be right back after I scan this,” he says before leaving back out.
He returns not even five minutes later. He waits while I check my email and confirm my receipt.
Then, he straightens his posture. He reaches into the box and pulls out my badge.
“It’s activated for the next thirty minutes so you can gather your stuff.
You can leave it with security when you leave. ”
“Got it,” is all I say before picking up the box and leaving him in that conference room. I got shit to do.
Focused and determined to utilize my limited time to the fullest, I damn near run out of HR and trek to the elevators. As it ascends, my emotions resurface. They really fucking fired me! My anger seems to build each floor and by the time I’m off the elevator, I’m pissed to the highest level.
I don’t even speak to LeAnn at the info desk in front of the Trauma Surgery entrance.
I walk straight to it and badge in. The slow-moving large door seems to be extra slow today and my patience is non-existence.
I walk out and turn to the side as soon as the elevator door starts to open and I’m down the hall before it’s fully open.
Razor focused on finding the fuck boy doctor, I badge into the employee locker room, leave that stupid box there, then rush out to the surgery board.
I find his name and see that he has a surgery in OR4 in thirty minutes.
It’s his first one of the day so, he should be in the sink area of the room, scrubbing.
The first scrub is the longest and he prefers to scrub alone while listening to his stupid playlist.
Before I walk into OR4, I spot one of the nurses eyeing me. I’m sure she knows by now that I’m fired. Word travels with the speed of light in these hospitals so my time is limited. She’ll be telling someone soon that I’m in the operating area; I have to act fast.
I rush inside and immediately here one of his rhythmless songs blasting. Through the round window in the door, I see him hunched over the sink, scrubbing his hands with the antimicrobial soap. As quiet as I can, I ease the door open. I’m inside and behind him before he notices me.
“You can’t be here,” he grits with too much damn audacity.
“And you shouldn’t be here,” I fire back before kicking him hard as shit on his calve
“Ugh!’ he yelps like a wounded dog as he drops to the floor.
The way he collapses, I know I got lucky and probably hit his peroneal nerve. He lands on his knees and his head misses the sink by a millimeter. While he’s down, I don’t waste another minute. I pounce on him, side slapping the shit out of his face.
“Lying muthafucka! You fucked with the wrong scrub tech,” I spit.
He’s screaming like a bitch and basically defenseless. While I’m fucking him up, he keeps trying to move but his feet aren’t cooperating. I definitely hit his peroneal. That’s what his ass gets.
I don’t know how, when, or even who but right when I’m about to mush the doctor’s head into the sink, a strong arm yokes me back. My feet are off the ground and I’m being pulled back.
“Let me go!” I demand.
“Miss Imani, please stop,” a deep, stern, but calm voice that I recognize says.
Micheal. The security guard.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he insists.
“You’re already hurting me,” I lie. I’m not hurt just pissed and annoyed as hell. I want to be back in the room, on Dr. Stetson’s bitch-ass. “Let me down,” I yell while trying to wiggle out of his grip.
“I’m just doing my job, Miss Imani.”
In the past, I kind of liked how he addresses everyone by either miss or mister. Right now, I hate the shit, real bad and my annoyance and piss-sivity is getting worse.
“Do your job and go walk his ass out!” I yell, now drawing a crowd. A few nurses, some scrub techs, and a doctor are now in the hall but I don’t give a damn.
“Thanks to you, they’re carrying him out,” he says. “Didn’t know you had all that in you,” he says with amusement but I’m far from amused. Nothing is funny.
“You next, if you don’t let me go!” I huff and he really laughs.
“We both know that’s not true. Now, stop,” he says more sternly. Then, in a hush tone, he speaks slower, almost pleading, “They want you out. Let me walk you out. I don’t want to carry you like this through the hospital. Please.”
His words temporarily calm my ass down and it seems like my eyes are truly open. More people have congregated the hall, even patients and family members. Their judging eyes are on me. I’m making a scene and I need to leave.
“I’ll walk,” I concede.
Slowly and somewhat cautiously, he lowers my feet to the ground then releases his grip around my waist. Like the queen bitch that I am, I stand tall, straighten up my scrubs, hold my damn head up and walk towards the door. Micheal follows and we walk all the way to the door for the parking garage.
“You be easy, Miss Imani,” he says.
“I’ll try and thanks,” I tell him before walking to my baby.
The moment I’m inside, every emotion that jolted through my body this morning, rolls together, forms a ball of destruction, and obliterates my soul in the form of sobs.
Angry, sad, disappointed, and overwhelmed tears pour out of my eyes.
I’m unable to stop them. Hell, I don’t want to stop them anyway.
I need to cry; I need to let this all out.
What I envisioned for my life in Crescent Falls just crashed and burned.
After we lost Imari, my family and life that I knew shattered.
I lost a huge part of me and I was devastated.
My parents were shattered. The day we found out what happened to Imari was the first day I saw my father cry.
That shit sent jabs to my heart. We were broken and still are.
My parents left North Carolina first. We buried Imari on a Saturday and on that Sunday, my parents put our childhood home on the market and went on a three-week cruise.
While they were away, my Hellcat Barbie sister, Breezy, a real estate agent, took care of the house and hooked up with an agent in Panama City in Florida to help find them a condo there.
When they got off the boat, they went to Florida and didn’t look back. Their home sold three months later.
Between the money from the house, their savings, and 401ks, they are trying hard to be happy. We talk weekly and I’ve been to Florida twice in the past year but things have changed with them. I love them and I know they love me but when they see me, they see Imari and it hurts us all.
I left North Carolina two months later. It took me longer than I intended to find this job and my townhome.
My plan was very similar to my parents. I wanted out expeditiously but it took time and once I got here, I was cool with the time because Mount Sinai was my dream come true.
The surgical staff is world renowned, minus the fuck boy.
Their benefits are top-tier and they give a week more PTO than most hospitals.
And, the building itself is just beautiful with state-of-the-art technology and equipment.
I loved working here. I enjoyed being in the OR with all the doctors but Stetson.
I didn’t mind staying late when scheduled surgeries ran behind or over.
I even volunteered at times for extra shifts.
Besides my ride and my cooking, this place was another safe haven, another thing that kept my mind busy enough to process the loss of my brother.
But it’s over now.
I’m no longer a scrub tech here.
I feel like shit and I need to feel better.