2
Returning to my work station, fifty minutes past the end of my scheduled shift, I slump in my seat to complete my procedure note on the splint I’ve just applied. The sweet girl required sedation in order to immobilize her broken arm because her developmental delay didn’t allow her to grasp what we were doing. I try to remind myself of a medical professional’s call to serve so as not to want to drive to Dr. Silver’s home and wring his neck while his trophy wife serves him dinner. I manage to complete the rest of my documentation in record time, now that interruptions are at a minimum and the smoldering but pompous Dr. Broody is no longer distracting me. God, what was that cologne he was wearing? I’m sure that’s what got my motor running, not him.
Fatigue has taken over, and I find it’s too much effort to pay attention to my growling stomach. I grab my bag and head for the door. I just need a hot bath, a glass of wine, my EarPods, and hopefully a few restful hours of sleep.
Heading down the hallway leading to the physicians’ parking area, I see Jessica Main and Meghan Rush. I’ve worked with them since I started at St. Luke’s, and quite honestly, every shift is better when they’re here. These two nurses are crazy girls and get me through the toughest of nights with laughter instead of tears. “Finally grabbing some grub?” I ask, peering at their yummy plates of grilled cheese and fries. Oh, there’s that growl again. I knew you didn’t go far.
“Yeah, I could eat a horse,” Jessica utters with a mouth full of French fry. This makes me chuckle because she literally eats all of the time and never gains a pound. She’s a thin, fit, five foot seven, freckle-faced, blonde that one would describe as the quintessential girl next door. You can’t help but instantly love her. Every time I see her in the department, she’s snacking on goldfish crackers, M&Ms, or Skittles. “I saw you were pretty cozy with Dr. Lee earlier. You better watch that one, Kat. He’s a real lady killer,” she warns.
“Which one was Dr. Lee?” It dawns on me her description could apply to either of my earlier unnamed companions, particularly if said women were into arrogant dickwads. “I was surprised when they joined me in my little sanctuary. I don’t get a lot of strangers in there. They usually prefer the open area with the docs.”
“Which one? How many hot men were you entertaining in your lair today, Kat?” Meghan laughs. Meghan, is a sharp-witted brunette with curly hair and an endearing smile. Her humor is infectious and keeps me in stitches.
“Two, actually,” I bat my eyes, teasingly. “But of course, I’m so skilled in the art of men I made a complete fool of myself with both of them.” I reach over and steal a fry off of Meghan’s plate. I’m quite honestly afraid to touch Jessica’s, for fear she might bite off my finger. “The first one was nice enough. Heck, I think I might’ve drooled a little before I could get words out of my mouth when he started talking,” I laugh in embarrassment.
“Oh, god,” Jessica giggles. “Well, Dr. Lee is super dreamy. He has a smile that could melt lead. And that dimple, uh,” she moans. “But rumors travel fast in this place, and he’s definitely a playboy. He’s hot and he knows it. He’s a love `em and leave `em kind of guy, and as much as I’d like to get all up on that, I don’t know that I want to be standing in the grill line looking at the nurse on either side of me wondering who had him last.”
“Yeah, not my scene, either,” I say, scrunching my face up. I’m done with playboys. “He is smooth, though. It was nice to know all my parts are still functioning as they kicked into overdrive when he spoke. I think I started sweating a little before I even laid eyes on him. That voice, it’s like ear porn.”
Jess and Meghan laugh with Meghan almost choking on her fries.
“How have I not heard of this guy?” I ask.
“You don’t hang in the rumor circle, Kat. That’s Dr. Sebastian Lee. He’s a reconstructive hand specialist who primarily works out of Mary Immaculate. He’ll occasionally come to our ER when it’s something hand or wrist related or if the on-call orthopod is a hip guy… or if his bank account is low that week, ha. Like that ever happens.” Jessica takes a bite of her grilled cheese, trailing a string of warm gooey goodness from her sandwich to her mouth.
Before the bite is completely gone, she smirks. “He’s probably made his mark on plenty of nurses at both hospitals.” She stops to ponder for a minute. “I think in a moment of weakness, like if I saw him in a bar and could blame my actions on one too many cosmos, I’d do him.” Jessica continues to bite into her toasty cheesy sandwich as she looks at my shocked expression. “What? He’s hot. When can you ever say you were able to sleep with a guy like that? It’s just not possible that he could look like that, hook up with that many women, and be bad in bed.”
“Well, what if he ruined all future sex for you? Hmmm?” Meghan inquires sarcastically. She turns back to me and covers her plate of remaining fries with her hand. “So who was your other suitor, Madam?”
“Heck if I know, but quite honestly, I’m not really interested in another interaction with that one. He was ridiculously hot, but that attitude. So rude! And he kept muttering things under his breath. He was very judgy. Dr. Broody can take his sexy hazel eyes and glowering stare somewhere else.”
Meghan and Jessica chuckle until Jess looks down at her watch. “We need to get back or we won’t have time to finish eating. I’m not leaving my food in the nurses’ lounge or someone will steal it for sure.” They say goodbye and wave as they head back to the ER to end their shift. Continuing toward the parking lot, I inwardly laugh at their antics while my stomach growls and visions of melty cheese and greasy fries dance in my head.
“Man, you look rough, Kat,” a familiar voice blurts as I walk farther down the hall. I instantly feel a smile overtake my face as my dear friend and ER physician, Jake Harris, approaches. Jake, his wife Melanie, and their two kids are more like family than colleagues or friends. We’d met many years ago when we all volunteered as EMTs at the same rescue squad. “Are you getting any sleep at all, or did the day just kick your ass?”
I refocus on my friend and shrug my shoulders. “Today, I think it was a combination of both. You know how it is. I’ve been this way for years.” I stifle a yawn. I’ve tried everything. Melatonin doesn’t work. Benadryl will sometimes help, but then if I have a nightmare, I just wake up so hungover I can’t remember where I am for about an hour afterward. “I think I might take Melanie’s suggestion and finally see a therapist. I don’t have high hopes it’ll help, and I don’t want to spend my free time sharing all of my troubles with some random person.” I look at my watch, noticing it’s even later than I thought. “I didn’t know you were working today. How’d I miss that?”
“Oh, I’m off today. I had a few hundred charts to finish and needed to work on the schedule and couldn’t focus at home. The kids both have friends over. I put on scrubs in case I get pulled in to help someone while I’m here.” He looks directly at me and begins to speak more seriously. “Kat, you know I’m happy to write you a prescription for zolpidem. I’ve worked night shifts for so many years, it’s the only way I get any sleep at all. Just try a few and see if they make a difference. But that being said, I think Melanie’s right. It wouldn’t hurt for you to see someone. I just have insomnia, no constant nightmares. Maybe if someone could help you sort that shit out, you could put it behind you and move on. Hell, maybe you could even meet someone and get laid. God knows you need it.”
“Hey! I expect that kind of talk from Jess and Meghan, but not you,” I shout, punching his shoulder playfully with my fist. “Besides, if I keep meeting men like the two I met today, you can count me out.”
“More of your patients hitting on you?” he snickers.
“No. Apparently, I’m not up on the gossip, but Jess and Meghan educated me on the first, Dr. Lee,” I state as a matter of fact. “I don’t know who the other one was, but whoever he is, no thanks.”
“Ah, the illusive Dr. Sebastian Lee. All the women want him, and all the men hate him,” he says without hesitation. “Well, except me. He’s kind of a smug bastard, but he is good at what he does and he’s come to my aid when no one else would more times than I’d like to admit. He’s professional and willing to help when he’s on the phone. Yet, if the whole world doesn’t revolve around him once he arrives, look out.” He scratches his head and smiles. “So long as he doesn’t put Melanie under his spell, he’s okay by me. But he can be a condescending motherfucker, so he tends to rub a lot of his colleagues the wrong way. And he leaves a trail of women in his wake, so as much as I’d like to see the dust knocked off of your girl parts, I’d recommend you start with someone else.”
I stare at him in disgust. I don’t like him worrying about my girl parts. They’ll rise to the occasion when someone who isn’t a complete douche nozzle shows up. “On that note, I’m heading home to a hot soak in the tub and then bed. Don’t forget, you and Melanie promised to take me out to the new club that’s opening soon. I need to get my groove on,” I say, dancing in place.
“Kat, you’re twenty-nine, not twenty-one. Can’t you get your groove on at The Sports Page down the street?” he groans. “The food’s better, it isn’t as loud, and you don’t have to wait an hour to get a beer.”
“Well, we can go there until the club opens. You know going out dancing is the closest thing to sex I get,” I joke. “We need to get the guys together for beers soon. It’s been way too long. Maybe we could meet up Friday. I’m actually off.” Thank God for my guys. I know I’ll never meet anyone hanging out with a bunch of firefighters, police officers, and medics who all think of me as a little sister, but I’m okay with that.
“Sure, I could do Friday,” Jake says with a little more excitement in his voice than I expect. “You’re actually doing me a favor. I think I saw Melanie write something on a piece of paper about book club at our house this Friday. Hell if I want to be there for that noise.”
* * *
On the drive home, I think about how lucky I am to have the Harris family in my life. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom and dad. I was raised in a traditional two-parent household, in a suburb in central Virginia, with parents who remain married after thirty years. I have a younger sister, Rachel. We didn’t have a fancy house or car growing up, no brand name clothes or electronics. Yet I never really felt like we wanted for anything. I was never hungry. I wasn’t truly neglected. My mother stayed at home with us until we were in high school and then returned to working a clerical job to help with expenses. She was always there for us, but there wasn’t the closeness I yearned for. Maybe I’d been watching too much of The Brady Bunch and Leave It to Beaver when I was young. Unattainable family standards were great entertainment.
I always felt I lived in Rachel’s shadow. Two years my junior, she was beautiful and charismatic, and regardless of my grades and hard work around the house, I was a small star eclipsed by her dramatic rays of sunlight. Any boys of interest, or friends for that matter, quickly fell under her spell, and I was pushed into the background. Poor, plain Katarina Kelly. I love Rachel, but I can only handle being her shadow for so long before detaching from her and her throng of admirers.
I eventually distanced myself from everyone but my grandmother. She was my rock. My immediate family was never warm and fuzzy, but my grandmother wouldn’t hesitate to hug me every chance she got. She tried to care for Rachel and I equally. Every birthday, she’d bring gifts for both of us, so the other didn’t feel left out. But I knew when she looked into my eyes there was a special soft spot in her heart just for me. Now that I’m older, I miss that more than I can admit. If she were still around, I wouldn’t need to consider seeing a counselor about my constant bad dreams and lack of sleep. She would be all the therapy I needed.
* * *
Nick
Heading home after another long day, I rub the back of my neck as I drive my Audi toward my neighborhood. After work, I left the office and stopped by the ER to introduce myself to the physicians that were working. This took longer than I planned, as they were all busy taking care of patients, but hopefully leaving my business cards and asking to be invited to their next quarterly meeting would bring more referrals. I’m not lacking in business, but I’m new to St. Luke’s and want to dive into work there and shrug off the feeling of being an outsider. I wear that cloak enough in my personal life, I don’t need to be that way at work, as well.
At almost thirty-six, I’m divorced and still living in the home we shared as a married couple. The neighborhood is nice enough, but the house was Sophia’s choosing, along with everything in it. When we split, she initially demanded she take all the furnishings, until she met with her high-powered divorce attorney who must’ve enlightened her on the windfall she was coming into. Now, it’s new everything for her. New townhouse, new furniture, new man.
As I park my shiny black Audi R8 in the garage, I grab my keys and work bag and enter the house. Walking into the kitchen, I look into the near empty refrigerator and stare like something edible is going to materialize. Unless I want a mustard sandwich, I guess it’s take-out again . Thankfully, I have beer. I pop the cap off of a lager and lean back against the kitchen island, looking around the house. There are no fond memories of our life together here causing me melancholy. The place doesn’t fill me with dread. Quite honestly, it’s utterly and completely flat. It’s just a place to park my car and my body until I head back to work. This home feels like the type of place you’d start a family. While I realize I’d wanted that when I proposed to Sophia four years ago, it no longer looks like a future I’m interested in. I’d suffered enough betrayal at the end of my marriage that I don’t foresee ever risking a relationship again.
I hadn’t planned to marry after my mother died. I saw what losing her did to my father, but Sophia had seemed different. I cared for her and thought she’d make a good partner and a good mother. I can’t say it was the type of love I witnessed between my mom and dad, but I planned to avoid that sort. The kind which could only cripple you if the other person was no longer around. The more I contemplate the last few years, I realize I was more disappointed about the possibility of never having kids than the loss of my marriage… Well, that and the utter humiliation of the way it ended. I abhor liars. Particularly a liar and cheat who made vows to the contrary. Making a clean start and moving to a new hospital just felt like the right thing to do. Sophia didn’t work in medicine, but gossip about my divorce had spread through the hospital and I needed a break from all of the drama.
Coming to St. Luke’s seemed like the right move, but why did I feel so irritated? I’d dropped off my business cards and was eventually able to meet the physicians on duty in the ER. They appeared receptive to referring patients my way. Dr. Silver seemed a little suspect. He reminds me of talking to a politician, but there’s one in every crowd, so that isn’t terribly surprising. The nurses seemed nice enough, when they weren’t gawking at me.
I accepted long ago that God granted me with features physically appealing to women. Even as a teen, my mother would laugh when young girls and older women alike would stare and giggle. It was ridiculous. It’s just skin deep. I had nothing to do with it. Granted, I don’t mind it allows me to easily obtain a willing participant for a night of pleasure when I desire it. I just have to be upfront that one night of hot sex is all I’m interested in, nothing more. I do not entertain those dalliances often, and when I do, I try to avoid dating women where I work. I don’t need that reputation, and quite honestly, it limits the chance of bumping into them again. But that girl, that brassy, brown haired, beautiful girl… Why can’t I stop thinking about her ?
I stop my wayward thoughts and type my Thai food order into the delivery window on my phone. As soon as the payment is sent through, thoughts of her return. They aren’t necessarily alluring, more like annoying. She’s definitely not my type. Sure, she’s educated and capable or she wouldn’t be employed at such a busy ER. But she isn’t the most professional PA I’ve encountered by a long shot. First, she rolled into that parking space like a race car driver. Then, I find her sitting at that messy work station with various scribbled notes, headphones, pens, and reference material all scattered about her computer area in a heap. Yet seeing her slumped in her chair, chewing on the end of her pen, I felt an instant magnetism pulling me toward her I couldn’t put my finger on. I have no business considering anything with that one. Looking her way caused a conflict of emotion, intrigue versus irritation. Taking orthopedic consults in the ER, I’ll see her frequently. With no plans to date in the future, I don’t need that in my life, no matter how mesmerizing her big brown eyes are.
I finish my Thai food and clean up my kitchen. The food is always good, but I still feel unsatisfied. I’m sure all of these changes just take time and are affecting my eating. It’s been a year and a half since Sophia moved out. The divorce was ugly and took months to finalize, but I’ve been a free man for three months. Maybe I should consider moving. Getting a place that’s more my taste and fitting of a lifelong bachelor. That’d probably improve my mood . I head up the stairs to the master bathroom to take a hot shower. I want to make it to bed early so I can get in a run before work tomorrow. Plus, I have soccer this weekend, so that’ll take my mind off of things. It’s a recreational league, but a good group of guys who love the sport as much as I do, so it’s a great way to spend a beautiful Saturday. I should also visit Dad this weekend .
I love Dad, but he’s no longer the man he was when Mom was alive, and the visits always leave me depressed. I miss her and our life together as a family more every time I drive away. I’ll see him early Saturday for breakfast before my game so I can shake off the past and focus on soccer.
I enter the large marble bathroom and turn on the shower. It’s meticulously kept, but it’s just me now, so it doesn’t take much effort. I drop my discarded clothing into the hamper then enter the hot, steamy shower. Yes, this is what this day needs. Finally. Maybe the Thai food and beer were the foreplay I needed for this epic moment . I adjust the setting on my shower head to allow for increased water pressure and feel the scalding water pound into my head, neck, and shoulders.
The more relaxed I get, the more thoughts of the crass creature with the long brown braid flash in my brain. Soaping up my body, my mind begins to drift. Like a movie in my mind, I watch as her soft pink lips nibble on the end of the pen in her mouth and picture it is my cock. I reach out to stroke her hair, removing the tie that keeps her dark locks braided, and I run my fingers through her coffee-colored strands as she sucks me in deeper. I can feel her soft hand reach up to cup my balls, and as I look down at her I’m captivated by her big brown eyes staring up at me while she services my thick length like a pro. She starts moving her head up and down greedily over my shaft, and I feel my hands gripping her long, gorgeous, wet tresses in my fists. The sensation is building quickly, and I don’t want it to end. But I’m abruptly brought back to reality when I hear my phone ringing on the bathroom counter. Dammit. I quickly jump from the shower, grabbing a towel to see if I’ve missed a call from the ER.
“Nick?” I hear Sophia inquire on the other end of the line. Well, I won’t need to return for a cold shower now. Just hearing the sound of that self-righteous bitch on the line has caused my dick to soften. “Are you there?” If I said no, would she hang up ?
“What do you want, Soph?” I spit out.
“Well, there’s that sweet disposition I don’t miss for a second.”
“Is there a point to this phone call, Sophia?”
“Yes, I just wanted you to be aware I plan on coming by the house this weekend to pick up a few things and didn’t want to walk in on you with a guest.” Not likely, but I guess I can at least appreciate the warning.
“What could you possibly need from the house after all of this time that you haven’t already packed up?”
“I’ve joined a cooking class and wanted to grab some of the cookbooks I left behind. I’m certain you won’t be needing them, as you barely know how to use the microwave.”
“Well, I could say the same for you. I can’t remember the last time you ever cooked. What’s the occasion, trying to impress your new man?”
“Maybe. Does that bother you, Nick? That someone else might like me to cook for them?”
“Uh, no. I just wish you’d waited until we were separated to decide you wanted to impress someone else with your culinary skills,” I jibe. “I’m going to visit Dad early on Saturday morning. Please come then to retrieve your cookbooks, and take any other items you may suddenly decide are essential enough to require interrupting my evening.”
“Oh, so touchy. What on earth did I interrupt, anything important? The game, a riveting read of the Journal of Orthopedic Medicine ?”
“No, just the best blow job I’ve ever had!” I bark, hanging up the phone without another word. Sadly, what I’d told her was true, in spite of the fact I didn’t come…and that there was no one else in the room, just visions of her .