Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Every floor is quiet, the awful fluorescent lights a bit lower, and the hustle and bustle of the day has become slower, more leisurely paced.
Emergencies are at a minimum too, at least for now.
It’s the middle of the night—the time I cherish most. When I’m able to process and think, and take a second to breathe.
Some nights, anyway.
It’s past two A.M. by the time I finally have a moment to fuel my body and can take a quiet moment for myself.
Grabbing some extra snacks from my locker, I ride the elevator down to the ground level and head into the hospital's cafeteria.
Light whispers fill the room as I enter the staff area, helping myself to a few of the healthier snack options the hospital keeps on hand for us, since meal service is long past closed.
I grab a meat and cheese snack pack from the refrigerated vending machine to pair with my apple and granola bar, then look for a place to relax for a while.
Some nurses I’ve only met a few times in passing sit at a table nearby, and across the room, I spot Lincoln sitting at a table for two next to the window overlooking the parking lot.
A sigh reverberates through my chest as I draw nearer to him, not sure if he’ll even want my company, but I’m not really in the mood to be alone.
Today was rough, and I’m fearful the silence of my chaotic thoughts will open up my mind to the grief I’ve felt several times this shift.
“Can I join you?” My voice is small, a sense of timidness slipping through me, and I’m not sure why.
I’ve never, and I truly mean never with every sense of the word, been concerned over interactions with a man, and I can’t figure out for the life of me why I want the approval of this man so badly.
I tell myself it’s because of Zee, that I want this aspect of her relationship with Miller—the piece of it where everyone they care for can do things together—to be as easy as possible, but deep down, I know that’s not the real reason.
I’ve never cared much about finding a boyfriend, or the thought of settling down. Sure, companionship is great, but it hasn’t been a priority in my life, and I still feel like it isn’t. My family, my career, those are my priorities…but Lincoln has me curious.
I’m a firm believer in everything happens for a reason and have no doubt in my mind the reason my best friend was compelled to go on all of those holidates last year was to meet the love of her life. But I can’t help but wonder what the reason for her bringing Lincoln into my life was.
She didn’t have to introduce us.
Although I would have met him regardless, since we now work together.
Lincoln grunts in response, and I take that as my green light to pull out the chair across from him. The cool bite of the metal seeps through my scrubs and sends a small chill down my spine. Arranging my snacks in front of me, I ask, “Hungry?”
“No, I’m good.” His gruff voice is doused in exhaustion, and I notice the dark circles under his eyes.
The plastic on my cheese whines as I rip it open. “When do you get to go home?”
“Not soon enough,” he grumbles, placing his phone down on the table. “You?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. But not for long.”
“Working the holiday?”
“Unfortunately.” My throat clogs with emotion again, like it does every time I think about working on Christmas.
This will be the first holiday in my entire twenty-eight years on this planet where I won’t get to spend it with my family. I knew the realities of this career when I decided to take the leap, but it still doesn’t make it any easier. “Hopefully I’ll be able to see them on the twenty-sixth though.”
“I’m sure it will be pretty quiet around here. Why do you like Christmas so much, anyway? You’re practically a walking billboard for the North Pole.”
“It’s always been my favorite time of year.” A smile ghosts my lips as I think about the warmth the holiday embodies. “What’s not to like?”
Vacantly, Lincoln looks past my shoulder across the room before answering. “Everything. It’s just another day, Genesis.”
My heart stutters and feels like it falls to the depths of my stomach at his obvious distaste toward Christmas. “What’s your family doing for the holidays? Do you get to spend it with them?”
He casts a glance back at me before refocusing on whatever he’s looking at over my shoulder. I’m not sure what else to say in follow up to such a simple question, so I stay quiet and take another bite of my cheese stick.
A sigh I can only describe as annoyed pushes past his lips.
But as much as I’m clearly a thorn in his side, he’s a thorn in mine, too.
“Our holidays are always small. I head up to my parents’ house in Julian, Miller comes over, and we just hang out and relax.
Mom makes a huge spread of food, and we watch football. ”
There’s a twinge of jealousy that makes my heart beat faster. He gets to enjoy time with his family this year, and he’s taking it for granted. Maybe that’s not a fair assumption, but based on his tone, it’s a very educated guess. “Exactly what the holidays should be about. Family. Good food.”
“Always is. This year, Zee will be there.”
“She told me! I’m so happy she has your family now.” My best friend tragically lost her family about a year and a half ago in a car accident. Her brother was driving their parents home when they were hit by a drunk driver.
“Yeah, she’s great. My cousin’s a lucky man.” He glances at me briefly, then flips his phone absentmindedly between his fingers.
“So why do you hate Christmas so much then? It sounds like they’re great.”
“I’m just not a fan,” he answers without hesitation, with a sense of finality in his statement.
Every other question swirling in my mind dies on my tongue.
Behind me, metal scrapes across the linoleum flooring, but I can’t tear my gaze from Lincoln's. The lack of expression on his face has the question screaming in my mind: why does he hate Christmas so dang much?
But it’s past two in the morning, and I can’t bring myself to push the issue. Unable to suppress it any longer, I let out a yawn, and our conversation goes quiet.
Suddenly feeling a little awkward in Lincoln’s presence, my thoughts run rampant, and my incessant need to know everything practically drives me to the brink of insanity.
Turning my full attention over to my snacks, I push them around, hyperaware of every movement he makes.
The air’s thick with tension, and I realize I’m having a hard time deciphering what kind of tension it may be.
He surprises me when he asks, “Does your family exchange gifts?”
My eyes snap to his. With a smile, I nod. “We’re big gift givers! But there’re so many of us, we rotate how we give each year.”
“What do you mean?” He leans forward with his elbow on the table, resting his chin against the heel of his hand.
My cheeks heat under his gaze. “Some years we do Secret Santa, or white elephant, but we’ve also done a gag gift exchange, which was a lot of fun.”
“What’s this year?”
Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I suppress a laugh. “Have you ever seen the social media videos with those giant plastic-wrapped balls people have to break into with oven mitts on?”
“Uh, not that I’m aware of?” His eyebrows furrow with confusion.
“So, you take a giant package or two of plastic wrap and wrap gifts within it as you roll it into a ball—the tighter, the better, with as many gifts as you can get in there. Then, whoever’s participating stands around something like a table or the kitchen counter, and one person has the ball, while the person next to them has a pair of dice.
When it’s your turn with the ball, you try to rip or unroll your way to the gifts inside while you’re wearing oven mitts, and the person next to you is trying as quickly as possible to roll doubles.
As soon as they do, they steal the ball from you, put the oven mitts on, and try to break into it before the next person rolls doubles.
It can be pretty intense, but it is so much fun.
You get to keep whatever gifts you’re able to get out of it. ”
His lips purse, and he crosses his arms over his chest, casually leaning back in his chair. “What kind of gifts do you even put in a ball of plastic?”
“Anything you want, that’s the beauty of it!
This year we all had to go buy twenty dollars’ worth of things, plus two five dollar gift cards.
I grabbed easy, small essentials like hair ties, lip balm, and mini bottles of hand sanitizer.
I know one of my brothers said he picked up a couple small bottles of alcohol, and extra gift cards.
I’m looking forward to seeing what everyone else came up with! ”
“I’m intrigued,” Lincoln announces, but I’m skeptical if he actually is. Honestly, he looks a little bored after my word vomit of the game's overview.
“You should be,” I tell him matter-of-factly. “I’ll have to mention it to Zee, so maybe one year you guys can play that at Christmas, too.”
“Maybe.”
Another silence plagues our table, and I check my watch. Only fifteen minutes have passed.
Deciding it’s time for me to head back upstairs, I gather the rest of my snacks and stand. “Well, I’m going to try to lie down for a bit before rounds. Thanks for letting me sit.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
Where this shift at work has drained my energy, Lincoln has drained the Christmas cheer right out of me with his overall frigid demeanor toward the holiday. Never mind he never seems to smile when he’s around me but always seems friendly and happy when other people are around.
I can’t figure him out, but as I walk away from the table we just shared, I can’t help but fantasize what it would be like to have the other side of him. Smiling. Laughing. The Lincoln Zee tells me about and is so fond of. I don’t get that side of him, just passing glimpses every so often.
But if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that his obvious passiveness about the holiday I hold so dear to my heart has me feeling like the only logical next step is to avoid him until after Christmas.
Petty, maybe, but I want to enjoy the most wonderful time of year, and when Dr. Lincoln Stokes is in my presence lately, it feels akin to hanging out with Scrooge.
So as the doors to the cafeteria swing closed behind me, I promise myself to do exactly that. Christmas is in three days—Lincoln isn’t working the holiday, and I’m off tomorrow. This should be easy. Really, I only have to stay away from Lincoln for a few more hours.
Operation avoid the grump and recharge my Christmas battery is now in progress.