3. Milan Rivers
MILAN RIVERS
By the time I made it home, I was beyond exhausted. I’d spent the last several hours answering questions, replaying the shooting over and over for detectives, and trying to convince myself there wasn’t anything else I could’ve done.
I dropped my bag by the door and headed straight for the shower.
The blood on my scrubs had dried hours ago, but I still couldn’t stand the thought of wearing them another second.
Twenty minutes later, I climbed into bed hoping I’d get at least a couple hours of sleep before I had to be back at the hospital.
It never came, though.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sam stumbling toward me with his hand pressed against his side. I heard the gunshots. I heard myself telling him to stay with me. Then I’d remember the doctor walking into that consultation room and telling his family there wasn’t anything else they could do.
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling.
Maybe if I’d gotten to him sooner...
Maybe if I’d started applying pressure a little faster...
Maybe...
I sighed because deep down, I knew better. The logical part of me understood that a gunshot like that wasn’t something I could fix in a parking garage. I’d done exactly what I was trained to do, but the woman inside me wasn’t trying to hear any of that.
My phone started ringing before I could disappear down another rabbit hole. It was my sister, Mariah and I answered on the second ring.
“Girl… don’t tell me you just getting home,” she damn near yelled.
I let out a tired laugh. “Is it that obvious?”
“Milan, it’s almost eight o’clock in the morning.”
“I know.”
“You were supposed to call me.”
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back deeper into the pillow. “I know.”
She let out one of those dramatic sighs only Mariah could pull off. Then she said, “I’ve been sitting here worried sick, wondering if I needed to drive over there and beat on your door.”
That made me chuckle.
“You would’ve woke up the whole apartment building.”
“And?” she shot back. “I would’ve been okay with that if it meant making sure my sister was alive.”
The smile faded just as quickly as it came.
“I’m okay.”
“You don’t sound okay.”
I rubbed my forehead, feeling the headache that had been creeping up since I left the hospital.
“I watched somebody die last night,” I said reminded her in a low tone. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to sound.”
The line got silent. Not the awkward kind of silence where neither person knew what to say. It was the kind that only happened when somebody who loved you wished they could take your pain away and realized they couldn’t.
“I’m sorry, Milan.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “So am I…”
“I know you’re blaming yourself.”
I stared at the ceiling for a second. Then asked, “How’d you know that?”
She gave a soft laugh, but there wasn’t any humor in it.
“Because I know my sister.” She didn’t give me a chance to response before continuing “You’ve been trying to save people your whole life.
That’s why you became a nurse. So, of course, you’re sitting there wondering what you could’ve done differently.
You’re probably replaying every second of last night, trying to find something you missed. ”
My chest tightened. She was right.
“I keep seeing his face, Mariah,” I admitted. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him looking at me. I keep wondering if there was something… anything… I could’ve done.”
“Milan.” Her voice softened until it almost broke me. “I don’t mean to sound inconsiderate when I say this, but… some people just can’t be saved.”
I stared out the window, blinking back the tears burning behind my eyes.
“I know,” I whispered. “I just wish I didn’t have to learn that like this, and the crazy part…
the nurse in me understands that. I know what those bullets did to him before he ever made it to me.
I know I wasn’t standing in an operating room with a team behind me.
I was in the middle of a damn parking garage trying to keep him alive with my bare hands. ”
“But...”
“But I still keep thinking maybe there was something else I could’ve done.”
Mariah let me get everything out, which was one of the things I loved most about her. She never rushed to fill the silence just because it got uncomfortable.
“You remember Mrs. Dawson?” she finally asked.
I laughed. “The lady with the cat that hated everybody?”
“The same one.”
“What about her?”
“You stayed up all night studying for that anatomy exam because she told you she was scared to have surgery. You went back to the hospital on your day off just to sit with her before they rolled her into the operating room.”
I smiled and nodded as if she could see me.
“I remember.”
“You’ve always carried people home with you, Milan. It don’t matter if they’re your patients, your friends, or complete strangers. You carry everybody.”
“I guess I do.”
“You can’t…” Her words hung with me for a second. “If you keep doing that, this job is gonna eat you alive.”
I rolled over onto my side and closed my eyes.
“I don’t even know if I want to go back tonight.”
“You lying.” I let out a laugh, realizing how ridiculous that sounded. “You worked too hard to become a nurse. One bad night ain’t running you off.”
Even though it sounded insane, I still responded with, “It wasn’t just a bad night.”
“I know it wasn’t.” She paused before adding, “But don’t let one man dying make you forget why you wanted this job in the first place.”
I didn’t respond because I couldn’t. She was right. Helping people was the only thing I’d ever been sure about. Even after everything with Evan, even after packing my life into boxes and moving back to Atlanta, nursing was the one thing that still made sense.
“I gotta get these kids ready for school,” Mariah said. “Promise me you’ll get some sleep.”
“I’ll try.”
“No, don’t try. Close your eyes and quit thinking for a couple hours.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I love you,” she told me.
“I love you too.”
I ended the call with Mariah and laid here for another minute before reaching over to my nightstand.
Vice Blackwell’s business card was still lying exactly where I’d left it after pulling it out of my scrub pocket. I picked it up, running my thumb across the words he wrote before letting out a slow breath.
If you remember anything... call me. Day or night.
I turned the card over between my fingers and for a second, I thought about sending a text saying, I’m sorry about your cousin.
It seemed like the right thing to do.
Then I stopped myself, asking myself what was I expecting him to say back… Thank you?
Nothing about losing someone that way deserved a text message from a stranger. Besides, the last thing he probably wanted was another reminder of what probably been one of the worst night of his life.
I slipped the card back onto the nightstand and locked my phone. If I remembered something, I’d call him. Until then, there wasn’t anything else to say.
I finally closed my eyes, and sometime between replaying the parking garage for the hundredth time and telling myself I had to stop thinking about it, exhaustion finally won.
The alarm on my phone felt like it went off five minutes after I closed my eyes.
I reached across the nightstand, silenced it, and stared at the ceiling for a second before checking the time.
It was Five-thirty.
“Damn...” My body wasn’t ready to move, but my bills didn’t care how tired I was. Neither did Grady.
After dragging myself out of bed, I made a quick cup of coffee and stood in the kitchen waiting for it to brew. Normally I’d scroll through social media while I waited, but I wasn’t in the mood to see engagement announcements, vacation pictures, or people pretending life was perfect.
I’d had enough reality for one night.
With my coffee in my hand, I walked over to the living room and looked at the stack of moving boxes still sitting against the wall.
“I really need to unpack y’all.”
I know those damn boxes were probably tired of looking at me just as tired as I was looking at them.
I let out a small laugh just from the thought. It wasn’t much, but it felt good to laugh about something that had nothing to do with death.
By the time I finished getting dressed, I felt a little more like myself. I put on my shoes, grabbed my bag, and got ready to head for the door. My eyes landed on the business card sitting on the nightstand again.
I picked it up and slid it into one of the pockets inside my bag.
Not because I planned on calling him, but if I remembered something later, I didn’t want to waste time digging through drawers when I got home, trying to find his number.
That was all.
The drive to the hospital felt completely different than it had the night before.
The excitement was gone…
Yesterday I’d been singing along with my playlist and thinking about fresh starts. Tonight, I drove in silence with my hands resting on the steering wheel while I fought through the downtown Atlanta traffic.
Every few minutes my mind wandered back to that parking garage. The argument… The gunshots… Sam…
I hated that I knew his name now.
Yesterday, he was just a patient.
Today, he was somebody whose family I’d met... somebody whose mother had cried just a few feet away from me while doctors fought to save him.
It made everything feel a little heavier.
When Grady finally came into view, I let out a slow breath before pulling into the employee parking garage.
For a second, I just sat here.
My eyes drifted toward the row where everything had happened less than twenty-four hours earlier. The blood was gone. The police tape had been taken down, and employees walked through the garage like it was any other evening.
If I hadn’t been there myself, I would’ve never known someone had almost died right there.
Grabbing my bag, I climbed out of my SUV and made my way toward the employee entrance.
“Hey. You made it.” I looked up to find Nia leaning against the wall with a cup of coffee in one hand. “I was starting to think you were gonna call out.”
“I thought about it.”
She laughed.