23. Emma
23
EMMA
I felt a lightness in my step that I hadn’t felt for a very long time, and it was all because of Marcus Walker.
I wasn’t supposed to fall for another doctor. I certainly wasn’t supposed to fall for someone who worked at the same hospital, let alone in the same department. But I couldn’t wait to see him. Just the thought of him made me happy and erased all the doubts and worries I had.
So what if Kevin was being a jerk? He always was one. And so what if he made the board think I was incompetent? I could pull together and resubmit the proposal, explaining that I had not been properly prepared.
They had to understand that. Right?
I looked forward to seeing Marcus when I made it into the ER, only to find that he wasn’t there.
“Some meeting with James,” Rosa said. “It’s about time Dr. Collins started paying attention to us.”
“He likes to let us manage ourselves,” I commented in response to her complaint. “You know, if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it?”
“As if James Collins were even aware that we were having problems. There is hands off, and there is neglect.”
I shook my head as I walked away. I actually preferred to not have James micromanaging my time. But she was right, he probably should check in with us a little more often than those times I needed to adjust my schedule.
Maybe that’s all James and Marcus were discussing. After all, Marcus had kids and it seemed like kids always were getting in the way of the nursing staff’s schedules. I could find Marcus later. We would run into each other in the hallway, like we always did. There would be another opportunity to see him, even if it was just a smile and a quick “hi” in passing. Because I knew that “hi” and that smile—and maybe even a wink—would be loaded with so much more information, so much more feeling behind it.
Patients came in in a flurry of activity, and I seemed to just float through setting bones and stitching up cuts. And by some miracle, even the worst of the traumas that came through our department weren’t as bad as they could have been. That’s not to say they weren’t horrible, because they were. The nature of trauma is horrible. But I had something to look forward to, and I didn’t feel like I was letting those patients or their families down at all.
It was hours before I saw him.
He didn’t see me.
I practically floated down the hallway before I caught his attention.
“Dr. Walker, haven’t seen you all day.” I didn’t hide the smile in my voice.
He looked up at me with a glare.
I stopped, and his expression felt like a gut punch. Something was wrong. What had I done? Had our evening together been just another horrible mistake?
“Dr. Chen. Hi. Here, I think these are yours.”
He handed me a stack of patient records and then turned and walked away.
He. Walked. Away.
My breath left me. I didn’t understand what was happening.
“Marcus?” I asked.
He paused and turned. “Sorry, Dr. Chen. I’m needed.”
And that was it.
My phone started ringing incessantly before I had a chance to even let my lower lip quiver with upset. I looked at the caller ID. It was my grandmother.
“Zumu,” I answered. “What’s the matter? Are you—Is everything all right?”
“Emma, I need your help.”
I couldn’t determine whether she sounded tired or scared.
“Are you hurt?”
My nervous reaction to Marcus’s rejection coalesced into a riot of worry and trepidation.
“Can you come to the apartment?” she asked.
“I’m at work,” I tried to explain, but my brain started screaming. Grandmother needed me.
“Well, when can you get here?” she asked.
“I’ll see what I can do. Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine until you get here,” she said, but there was a small quaver in her voice.
“Okay, okay,” I said as I hung up the phone.
I needed to go help my grandmother. I turned to the nurse at the station.
“Who else is on duty tonight?” I asked.
“Oh, we have a full roster,” she said.
“Do you think I can duck out? I have an emergency with my grandmother,” I said.
She shrugged.
I immediately dialed James Collins’s number.
“This is Collins,” he answered.
“Oh, good. James, it’s Emma Chen.”
“Oh, Emma, I needed to speak with you.”
“Can it wait?”
“Why?”
“Well, I just got an emergency call from my grandmother, and I?—”
“If she’s having an emergency, can’t she call nine-one-one?”
“I don’t know,” I said, panic rising in my voice.
“We have a full roster down here in the emergency department. Is there any way?—”
“Yeah, yeah, I think we can handle it if you go. But look, you’ve called out twice in a week.”
“I haven’t called out?—”
“You left early.”
“I left early yesterday after the board blindsided me with that meeting. I can make up my office hours another time. You know that.”
“I understand that the meeting didn’t go well at all.”
“Great,” I grumbled under my breath.
Whatever Kevin had managed to convey to the board had gotten out.
“I’m going to have to put this down on your record,” James said.
“My record? James, it’s an emergency.”
“And you’re an emergency trauma surgeon—for when other people have emergencies.”
“And that’s why my grandmother needs me.”
“Fine. But we’re going to have a longer conversation about this.”
“Right. I understand. Thank you.” I hung up and ran to the prep room, stripping out of my scrubs and throwing my street clothes back on.
I ran out of the hospital and grabbed the first cab I could find. Typically, I would walk or take the subway to Grandmother’s. But not right now, not when my worry was this high.
I threw my payment at the cabbie as I dashed out of the car and ran up the stairs to her apartment.
I didn’t knock. I just burst in.
“Zumu! Zumu, where are you?” I yelled.
“Oh, Emma, you’re here. That was fast,” she said in a perfectly normal voice. She didn’t sound worried at all.
“I thought you were hurt! What’s the matter? You said it was an emergency.”
My voice was louder than necessary as I stormed through her apartment and into the kitchen, where I found her sitting at the table.
I cast my gaze rapidly around the room, expecting to see blood, a broken glass, or a knife she had unexpectedly cut herself with.
“Why did you need me?”
“I can’t reach.”
“Grandmother, you called me, telling me it was an emergency. I had to leave work. I got in trouble at work.”
“I didn’t feel comfortable. I didn’t feel stable enough to climb up on a chair, and I couldn’t reach it.”
And all she needed was something off the top shelf. I spun around and grabbed the long-handled grabber from the corner next to the door. I held it out to her.
“That’s why I bought you this.” I pulled the handle end of the device, making the grabber claw end click together a few times.
She took the grabber handle from me and extended it up so that the claw at the far end could grab the box of tea. She squeezed the trigger, and like a robot, it picked up her box.
“I forgot all about this thing. It really is handy, isn’t it?”
I let out a weary, dejected sigh.
“You seem so stressed, Emma. I should have told you what I needed.”
I sat with a heavy thud and buried my face in my hands.
“I thought something was wrong. I thought you were hurt.”
“No, child. You are always so dramatic.”
I looked at her.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I was overly dramatic. Maybe that’s why I let Marcus seduce me. Maybe that’s why I thought there was something between us when his reaction to me this afternoon clearly showed there wasn’t.
Maybe it was all in my head—that Kevin was out to get me and that I was overly dramatizing my complete lack of professional integrity. I folded my arms and collapsed further onto the table with a groan.
“This is why I’m going to be single forever,” I complained out loud, as if all of my previous whining hadn’t been inside my head.
“What am I going to do with you?” I asked into my arms.
“You’re going to have tea, is what you’re going to do,” Grandmother responded, as if tea was the answer to everything.
When the aromatic smell drifted up to my nose as she placed the steaming cup in front of me, I wrapped my fingers around the delicate China cup. Maybe she was right. Maybe tea was the answer to everything.
I let myself enjoy the tea before I checked the time. There were still three hours left in my shift.
“I’m glad that nothing was seriously wrong,” I said as I set down the cup. “But I’m going to have to go back to work now.”
“You always work so much, dear.”
“It’s my job,” I said, slowly getting to my feet.
I leaned over and gave her a hug.
I was wrong. The tea wasn’t nearly as good as her hugs.
I needed to get back to work. And I needed to call James Collins to get this reprimand nonsense off my record, because that’s what a professional did.