10. Matty
Chapter ten
Matty
“Why are you smiling like that?” Sierra leaned over the counter and peered down at me like some hungry vulture waiting for me to die so she could pounce.
I stopped typing and looked up. “I’m always smiling, thank you very much.”
“No, Matthew Harvey Milk Gloria Gaynor Vance, you do not.”
“Harvey Milk? Are we reaching a little today, sug?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t had my four cups of coffee yet. Stick to the point. What happened?”
I chuckled and shook my head. “Can’t a guy just be in a good mood?”
“Not a chance.” She leaned lower and whispered, “What’s his name, and how far did he stick it? I need details.”
“There wasn’t any—”
“You banged that NICU cutie, didn’t you?”
“Sisi, please. I’m a lady.”
“Oh, pshaw! You’d let a gurney up your ass if it would fit.” She snorted. “So not him? Who?”
“Nobody banged anybody. Omar and I went out for dinner, then a walk through Piedmont Park. It couldn’t have been a more proper date if your nosy ass had been chaperoning the whole time.”
“I’ll let that ‘nosy ass’ bit slide for the moment. So you just went out for dinner? Did you at least get a little lip? Slip him some tongue? Cop a feel?”
“Jesus, Sisi, what kind of slut do you take me for?” I glanced around to make sure there weren’t any other nurses or—heaven forbid—doctors overhearing us. “Okay, fine. I would’ve ripped his clothes off, but he’s a good boy, not that I’m complaining . . . much.”
She snickered. “He turned you down?”
“There was no turning up or down.” I let my head fall back against the chair back and blew out a dramatic sigh. “We had a fabulous first date, and, well, I think I like him.”
Her face froze in what could’ve been horror or delight. I wasn’t even sure.
“Uh, okay?” she said. “And you’re seeing him again?”
I shrugged. “I hope so. We haven’t made any plans—”
My phone made the sound of Woody the Woodpecker, my customized tone letting me know I had a new text message.
Sierra’s brows rose almost to her hairline, then she checked her watch. “It’s nine fifteen in the morning. Who is texting you at this hour? And before I’ve had my goddamned coffee?”
I shook my head again. “I don’t know what your coffee has to do with my text, but I’ll check.”
My screen unlocked when I presented my stellar face, and a text popped up.
UNKNOWN NUMBER : Good morning. I hope it’s okay for me to text. You gave me your number, but I forgot to give you mine. Oh, it’s Omar. Sorry again. I need coffee.
What was it with everybody and their coffee addictions?
“You’re grinning at the screen like a love-struck puppy. Either show me or—”
A tone sounded and a voice spoke over the PA system, demanding our immediate attention. I dropped my phone in the drawer and hopped up. Sierra and I raced toward the entrance to see what the paramedics were about to drop into our laps.
When the doors opened, two men in uniform wheeled in an elderly woman on a gurney. The medic at the patient’s feet looked at me and said, “Eighty-four-year-old female transported from elder care in Norwood. No visible wounds, refused rectal thermometer, stats normal.”
I looked from the medic to the woman. She raised her head and smiled.
“Ma’am, can you tell me what’s wrong?”
“I feel like shit.”
That was informative.
“All right, we’ll do our best to make you feel better.” Looking back at the medic, I said, “Put her in triage three. I’ll be right there.”
“You got this?” Sierra asked over my shoulder.
“Oh, no, you’re with me on this one. We need a temp, and the medics bailed. You’re my witness.”
“Great.”
A moment later, Mrs. Clepy had only described mild ailments typical of an elderly patient, giving us nothing to work with. Sierra checked her pulse and ran a few other basic checks while I grabbed a thermometer.
“Mrs. Clepy, my name is Matty. This is Sierra. We need to take your temperature, okay?”
“Okay, honey,” she said, opening her mouth wide.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We need to go in the back door.”
“Oh!”
“We’re going to roll you onto your side now, all right?”
Sierra took up a position so she would face Mrs. Clepy when she was turned, leaving me the business end of the patient. There were moments when I loved Sierra a little less than normal.
“Here we go,” I said. “This is going to feel a little uncomfortable, but I’ll make it as quick as possible, okay?”
“Um-hm,” was all she said.
I slid the thermometer in.
The woman groaned, then moaned, then let out a clear growl of pleasure.
Sierra and I exchanged glances.
Before either of us could react, the woman said, “Oh, Frank, yes. You know I love it like that.”
By the time we were able to sit again, we’d seen three COVID cases, a car accident victim, two children with the flu, an entire sorority of girls with chicken pox, and Mrs. Clepy.
One of the college girls threw up on my pants, coating my shoes.
The accident victim’s blood managed to slip past my gown to stain my scrubs.
And Mrs. Clepy begged us to take her temperature over and over.
“Remind me why we went into nursing,” Sierra said as she flopped into the chair beside me and began typing notes into the system.
“Because we like giving old women orgasms.”
A doctor passing by missed a step and laughed his way out of the department.
“Did you ever respond to lover boy?”
“Oh, shit,” I said, fumbling the drawer open and pulling out my phone. Another text had come through.
UNKNOWN NUMBER : You must be busy. I hope I didn’t overstep.
UNKNOWN NUMBER : I had a great time last night.
“Well?” Sierra said, wheeling her chair to lean over my shoulder and sneak a peek.
“Can I read my text before getting the third degree, please?”
She wheeled back. “So defensive. You like this one, don’t you?”
I glanced up.
“Oh, Lord. I know that look. I’ve seen it on TV shows, usually on the Hallmark Channel. I’ll get a crash cart ready.”
I raised one finger in salute.
She snickered. “Love you, too, baby boy.”
Ignoring her use of the moniker that meant she wanted to cuddle up after pushing me too hard, I let my thumbs do my talking.
Me : OMG. Today has been insane. I gave an old woman a Big O, then got bled all over. Different patient. Not the old woman bleeding. She’s past all that. I’m pretty sure.
Me : I had such a good time, too.
UNKNOWN NUMBER : Well, I know it’s short notice, but would you be interested in dinner tonight? Back-to-back dates?
I squealed and pumped my fist in the air. Sierra and another nurse who’d apparently been listening to our conversation stopped what they were doing and stared.
Me : Yes. Period. Just yes. Take me.
Me : Wait, that sounded lude. You’re not into taking this early. Rent me.
Me : Shit. That sounded worse.
Me : Just yes. Tell me when and where.
UNKNOWN NUMBER : I have my bowling league later, so how about Rooster’s? Something easy and filled with boys?
Me : Yay. I love that place. For the chicken. And not the young boy kind of chicken.
UNKNOWN NUMBER : LOL. How do you always make me laugh?
I squealed again. I made him laugh. On the phone. Via text.
I spun my chair in a circle and giggled, holding both hands, phone in one, in the air.
“What the fuck?” Doctor Michaels’s voice was like ice water, dousing everyone in range, but I didn’t care. I spun one more time before returning to face the computer.
Me : What time?
UNKNOWN NUMBER : Seven?
Me : See you there. I’ll be the one in black. ;)