15. Emma
15
EMMA
I t felt like every conversation I had with any nurse—or even Sarah—made it seem like everybody could see what I was thinking on my face. And what I was thinking was about Marcus. I thought about him a lot.
He had been an absolutely perfect gentleman when we agreed that whatever had happened between us—a little indiscretion—was going to remain professional. It hadn’t happened. We had not destroyed the cot in the sleeping closet for the residency students.
Neither of us flinched nor squirmed when a few days later, the gossip around the department was that the cot collapsed under a couple making out. Something they should not have been doing. I was certain Marcus and I hadn’t been the first, and wouldn’t be the last, couple to use it the way we had. I was just glad it wasn’t us it had fallen apart under.
But it was hard to be professional. It was hard to maintain my objectivity when he was so incredibly charming, handsome, and ridiculously funny. It was all I could do not to blush furiously when discussions about the annual gala started taking over.
Everybody wanted to know who was going with whom?
From what I gathered, in standard business offices, the Christmas party was the event where everyone cut loose, bad choices were made, and regrets were born. For Manhattan Memorial, it was the annual gala.
“Are you planning on going with anybody?” one nurse asked Rosa.
I was hovering around the nurses’ station between patients, ordering tests for the kid in bay three. He presented with abdominal pain, and I suspected it was his appendix. I wanted an ultrasound on him ASAP.
Rosa just rolled her eyes. “Why would I want to go with anybody? I’ve finally gotten rid of my husband.”
“Your ex-husband, you mean,” another nurse at the station said, correcting her with a saucy grin.
“Exactly. He’s my ex-husband,” Rosa said. “Why would I want to get rid of one man only to have to deal with another?”
She had a very good point. Why would she? But then again, I knew exactly why she wouldn’t.
When I had broken up with Kevin, the last thing I wanted was to get entangled with another man. But time heals all wounds, as the saying goes. And I was definitely interested in becoming entangled with Marcus. He wasn’t just any other man. He was Marcus.
“How about you, Dr. Chen? You have a hot date lined up?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m with Rosa. I got rid of one guy. I don’t think I’m ready for another one.”
Rosa narrowed her eyes at me as if she knew something I wasn’t saying. I just gave them both a smile.
“What I’m looking forward to,” I admitted, “are all the dresses. It’s almost as fun as the Met Gala. It’s so much fun to see how everyone dresses up, especially when I only ever see anybody in scrubs.”
“Well, I’m on duty that night,” one nurse huffed.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said.
“Oh, don’t be. I actually requested it that way. I don’t have to fork out money for a dress I’ll only ever wear once.”
Rosa harrumphed. “I’m going to wear the same dress I wore last year. I looked hot in it. It deserves another showing.”
“Sure, if you don’t want to be judged,” another nurse chimed in.
“What are you talking about? I wear the same dress every year. Nobody judges me.”
“Nobody judges you to your face, Rosa. We all know you wear the same dress every year. You need a new one. Styles have changed.”
Rosa snorted. “Why should I change my style for fashion? That dress was not cheap, and each time I wear it, it becomes more affordable.”
The first nurse laughed. “Girl-math, right? I forked over a ton of money on a crappy pair of shoes, so not worth it, and then Jamie convinced me to get these” —she twisted her foot so we could all see her hot pink shoe— “not cheap, but I wear them every day. So they’ve ended up costing me something like less than fifty cents a day.”
“Don’t listen to them, Rosa,” I said. “You can wear the same dress if you want to.”
“What about you?” Rosa asked. “You don’t wear the same thing. But I guess with a doctor’s salary…” She trailed off.
“I never buy a dress for the gala. I’ve already made arrangements to rent my gown, like I do every year.”
“You can rent a ballgown?” one nurse asked, wide-eyed.
“You didn’t know that? From a girl-math perspective, it is pricey, but not nearly as expensive as buying one.”
Before I could elaborate further, another nurse interrupted. “We have incoming.”
“What have we got?” I asked.
She shrugged. “You know as much as I do, but there are minors involved. It’s definitely your rodeo.”
Frustration bunched in my gut. Marcus was right. It would’ve been helpful to have more information. Anything was better than just a vague heads-up. It’s about to get bloody in here. It reminded me I needed to follow up with him about those protocol procedures he was interested in.
We all waited in quiet anticipation as the bay doors opened and the ambulance backed in.
“What did I miss?” Marcus asked as he arrived on the scene.
I shrugged. “Another opportunity to discuss the necessity of intake protocols,” I said, shaking my head. “I just know that minors are involved and they’re going to need both of us.”
The kid was in bad shape. We triaged as we ran down the hall to the ER. There was no time to fuss over assessment procedures. The kid had serious internal bleeding, and the clock was ticking.
I loved how we operated like a well-rehearsed choreography. Working with Marcus was some of the smoothest time I’d spent in the ER. We were on the same track, anticipating each other’s needs. Our support teams were completely synchronized. We couldn’t go wrong.
Marcus reached his hand out as I went to hand him the hemostat. He paused and then waved me off.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I don’t like the look of this. I need options,” he barked out.
“You don’t need options. You need to stop the bleeding,” I reminded him. “Okay, options, we need to bring the kid’s body temperature down and get this bleeding under control.”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I held my breath. Kevin had hated it every time I suggested lowering a patient’s body temperature. But it only made sense to me. Slow down the body, and we’d have a chance to do what we needed to do. If nothing else, it would slow the patient’s rate of bleeding.
“Right. Let’s get a cooling cap on her immediately. Do it,” Marcus said. He hadn’t hesitated at my suggestion or argued with me. Time wasn’t wasted in a power struggle between us.
When we finished, the patient was stable and sent to recovery. I was overcome with a wave of unexpected emotion. My part was done, but I stayed with the patient until the nurses finished and had the child rolled out of the surgical suite and to recovery.
I held everything I was feeling close. Surgery had been a success. I didn’t want relief to show on my face. I felt that if I let a single crack of emotion through, I would crumble. Surgery had been a success , I repeated again to myself. I counted my breaths all the way to the prep room where I could clean up and have a moment alone.
I finally let out a sigh of relief as I sank onto the bench in the prep room. Surgery had been a success. I wanted to cheer and revel, but my joy was undermined by the sharp reality that the previous week, surgery had not been successful, and I had lost a patient. I sniffed, not wanting to cry.
I pushed up from the bench and turned the taps on. Crossing my arms, I started to pull my top off, and then I remembered Marcus practically chastising me that I didn’t have to strip down to wash my face and arms. He was right. I was feeling vulnerable again, and maybe not being half naked when he, or anyone, could walk in wasn’t the best idea.
I splashed water on my face. More of it got on the front on the scrubs top. “And this is why you take your shirt off,” I muttered to myself.
“You did good,” Marcus’s deep voice cut through my inner reflection. “Are you hanging in there?”
I nodded with a sigh. “Yeah. Just reminding myself that we have more good ones like this than not.”
A tear escaped and ran down my cheek. Marcus reached out for me. I took his hand, letting him pull me away from the sink and wrap me in his strong arms.
“I’ll be okay,” I said. But I didn’t move. I didn’t push away. I let the warmth and strength of him bolster me.