19. Alexis
We get three blissful days of peace after the gala before all hell breaks loose.
Honestly, I can’t believe it took them as long as it did to nearly tear it all down. There was always going to be a shoe to drop.
“I’m headed out!” I call from the doorway, barely catching Jason’s muffled goodbye from my bed. I can’t stop the self-satisfied smirk that creeps across my face as I lock up. Despite having to wake up way too early for my shift today, I enjoyed making Jason a babbling idiot before leaving. Nothing like leaving your boyfriend incoherent from pleasure to start your workday off right.
The drive to the hospital is thankfully quick and uneventful. At this time of day, or is it night? Either way, at this point, L.A. traffic is at its lightest, which means my commute is reasonable. I make it to the hospital in record time.
After a brief pit stop at the locker room, I head out onto the ER floor and take a deep breath, centering myself for the day. As a fourth-year resident, this is my time to shine. To show my superiors that not only do I have the academics required to practice medicine, but I have the skills too. My entire future hangs on how I finish this year, and it’s as scary as it sounds. All eyes are on me, and I can’t let myself or my family down. Not this time.
Despite having a pleasant morning with Jason and doing all my normal pre-shift routines, I still feel vaguely anxious. There’s a tight ball under my ribcage that just won’t ease, no matter how many belly breaths I take.
Ignoring the feeling, I concentrate as one of my nurses explains the head trauma case I’m seeing first. It takes a few minutes, but eventually, I’m able to sink into my doctor brain and block everything else.
***
“Uh, Doctor?” I glance up from the X-Rays I’m pulling up onto the screen and glance over at the lanky soccer player on the table. Her demeanor is completely different from when I first came in. She went from a frustrated but confident player hoping her foot wasn’t broken, to nervous in less than a minute. Before I can ask what’s wrong, I hear it.
Shouting.
“Are we,” she pauses, whispering while wringing her hands. I put up my hand and shake my head. I can’t make out much beyond someone is shouting, and her talking is now suddenly a risk.
My heart thundering in my chest, I approach the door slowly, straining to hear what’s happening beyond the door. I can feel a bead of sweat gather at my temple before it slowly starts to run down my face. It takes everything in me not to show my fear in front of my patient, who is beginning to hyperventilate.
With my ear pressed to the door, I close my eyes, trying to block everything out except what might be happening out there. At first, the shouting remains indistinct. And then, probably within seconds, it clarifies into more distinct sounds: many people shouting, and the surprisingly loud clicks of camera shutters. My eyes snap open when I realize what I’m hearing.
Shit.
“Mackenzie? We’re alright. I know it sounds scary outside, but it’s nothing to be worried about.” I step up to her on the table and gently squeeze her shoulder. She’s shaking now, looking at me, her face stricken. There’s no doubt in my mind she’s been in an active shooter situation in the past, and the shouting from down the hall has triggered her.
Despite my fury at what is no doubt happening outside, I coach Mackenzie through her anxiety attack. It takes several minutes, but eventually she comes back to her body and understands that she’s safe. I force myself to walk her through her injury and connect her with our Ortho department. By the time we’re done, she’s back to being upset about her teammate stomping on her foot and taking her out of the game for the next few weeks.
When I finally step out, the end of the hallway is quiet. Security must have cleared the paparazzi out finally. As I walk toward the nurses” station, I allow myself a moment to believe that they weren’t here because of me. That some high-profile celebrity is here, and that’s why they swarmed our ER floor for the better part of an hour. But when I make eye contact with our charge nurse, I see the truth in her eyes.
They were here for me.
***
“Dr. Masters,” Dr. Jordan, the lead attending for the entire ER Department, stares me down from the other side of her desk. I do my best not to fidget under her scrutiny. Next to my dad, she’s the practitioner I look up to the most. She has an eagle eye for detail, and won’t hesitate to ream you for missing things. She’s a dragon and I am lucky to learn from her.
Today might be the first time I don’t feel so lucky.
“I’m not going to pretend like what occurred today wasn’t a complete and utter disaster. Nor will I sugarcoat what I have to say next.”
This is it. My career is over. I let myself have a boyfriend, and now I’ve flushed ten years of training and dedication down the drain… What will my dad think?
“While we were able to get them off our property and hopefully scare them enough with the threat of lawsuits for blocking the ambulance bay, knowing who you are currently dating, they’ll likely be back.” She says dating with such disdain, I’d be surprised she ever felt romantic attachment if I didn’t already know she has a life partner.
“And if this becomes a frequent problem, the hospital may have to re-evaluate our staffing.” She lets it hang there, the vague threat. If I can’t get the paparazzi to leave me alone at work, I’ll lose my job. And any hope I have of achieving my career goals.
“I understand.” I get up, knowing I’m dismissed once she starts typing on her keyboard. “It won’t happen again.”
As I slip out the door, she speaks again, filling me with dread.
“I hope he’s worth it.”
I hate that I don’t have an answer.
***
Beauford:Hey bestie, I’m in another bind tonight. Any chance you can take my shift? Word on the street is you could use some kudos points with Dr. J after the drama earlier this week.
I stare at Beauford’s text, simultaneously wishing I could slap him, while also acknowledging how right he is. After the paparazzi debacle, I’m desperate to get back into Dr. Jordan’s good graces. And if I don’t do it soon, I may never recover, even without another visit from the paps.
As I pick up my phone to reply, my eye catches on the dress I’m supposed to be wearing tonight. Jason’s newest movie, a political thriller, is premiering tonight, and I promised to meet him there.
Before I let myself think too much, I fire off a couple of texts and throw my scrubs back on. I just have to hope he’ll understand.