14. Emily
emily
V alentine’s Day has never been that important to me.
Of course, when you’re in a long-term relationship, it’s considered an important holiday.
Everyone my age is engaged or married, with one-and-a-half kids on the way.
Yet, here I am, almost thirty years old and back on the market.
When you’re single at my age, Valentine’s Day is like a mark of shame on your character.
The red glowing scarlet letter that signifies your single status.
Even when Logan and I were together, he always seemed to forget that most boyfriends mark the holiday by showering their ladies with gifts or signs of affection.
I always told myself that I didn’t need any presents or flowers to know that he cared about me, though I always felt a pang of disappointment every time he forgot.
I comforted myself by knowing that he loved me and that we were end-game, so what does it matter in the long run?
The dreaded Hallmark holiday is fast approaching. Thankfully, I have a long shift at the hospital scheduled. My classroom training is almost over, and now we’re at the clinical portion of the program where I shadow my mentor as they go about their workday.
It is much more invigorating to be back on the hospital floor than it has been sitting in a classroom for the past few weeks. I’m excited about moving on to the next part of my training.
I’ve always known that I wanted to be a nurse.
My grandmother, who was a Vietnamese refugee and my idol, had type 2 diabetes and would often need help to take care of giving her insulin doses.
Not only would she ask me to help her, but she also had me helping with cupping, an Eastern medicine therapy involving the use of special cups to create suction on a person’s body that was believed to help draw out the toxins in the body.
I’ve always felt honored that she picked me out of all of my cousins to help her. Granted, my cousins and even my siblings were wild and rambunctious. They probably wouldn’t be very calming to be around during a cupping session.
I always thought that I would end up working in the neonatal ICU. Instead, my new job is in a Level 1 surgical trauma ICU. I found that after shadowing a NICU nurse, I couldn’t handle the stress of holding somebody’s child’s life in my hands. It’s funny where life leads us sometimes.
It’s almost time for a lunch break when I hear my name being paged overhead. I find my manager, who informs me that security has called for me to come downstairs to the lobby. I do not know what it’s about, but head out of the secured unit and down the bank of elevators to the lobby.
I walk up to security and tell them I was called down here by my manager.
The security guard looks at my work badge to verify my name and tells me he’ll be right back.
He disappears into the office and comes out carrying a giant vase of red roses with a stuffed puppy attached to the bottom.
I step aside, thinking he is handing it to someone else when he stops in front of me.
He places the vase down and hands me a clipboard and a pen.
“Sign here that you got your delivery, please.”
I look up at him, confused, but do as he says. I hand over the clipboard, and he puts it away and hands me the vase. Did Logan send me flowers? This seems so unlike him. I hadn’t really heard from him since he found out I was living with Ben.
I’m walking away with a giant vase in my hands and don’t stop to look at the attached card until I’m back on my unit. My stomach is in knots. I’m setting it on the table in our shared break room when my best friend, Maggie, walks in. She sees the flowers and gasps excitedly.
“Did someone send you flowers on Valentine’s Day?” she all but shrieks.
“Um…yeah, I guess so.”
“Who are they from? Do you have a secret admirer?” Her excitement is palpable. She frowns. “Are they from Logan?”
I finally pull out the small card that’s sticking out of the bouquet. My confusion must be obvious because someone suddenly yanks the card away. I look up to find Maggie reading the card, and she looks up at me.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, roomie ;)” is what the card reads. I’m in shock as I try to make sense of the fact that Ben took the time to send me flowers on Valentine’s Day when my ex-boyfriend never once took the time to even acknowledge the holiday.
“Oh my god. Are you guys hooking up?” Her eyes widen in surprise.
“What? No, of course not!”
“Then why is he sending you flowers on Valentine’s Day if you’re not hooking up?” she asks, which is a valid question.
“I don’t know. We’ve never even talked about today before.”
“Well, if you’re not hooking up, you should.” She winks at me as she bends down to smell the roses.
“I can’t do that. We live together.”
“Who says you can’t? Besides, that’s probably the best setup. You’re both in the same apartment, sleeping just across the hall from each other. One of you sneaks into the other’s bed and gets freaky. You know what I mean?” I think she’s swooning now.
I’m laughing at her ridiculous behavior, and she looks at me with her big doe eyes.
“Wouldn’t that be so romantic if you guys end up falling in love and getting married? After what Logan put you through, you deserve your happily ever after.” She looks like she’s about to cry.
“Okay, calm down. Nobody is hooking up with anybody, and we will not end up falling in love or getting married. We’re just roommates.”
“We’ll see about that,” Maggie states with a smirk.
I roll my eyes at Maggie. We met on our first day of orientation.
We sat next to each other, unaware that they had hired us both for the same medical-surgical unit, along with two other girls.
Although the four of us completed our training together, Maggie and I bonded over the shared trauma of being assigned evening shifts as new nurses.
Unfortunately, we both got to experience firsthand what it means when “nurses eat their young.” We were being heavily bullied by the older nurses on the unit while we were on probation.
Since we couldn’t exactly report that we were being bullied by our superiors, being on probation meant that they could fire us for no reason.
We suffered in silence while staying well past our shift to finish our documentation.
We shared late-night snacks and listened to the soulful voice of Bruno Mars to help ease our pain.
We agreed to stick together for at least six months before quitting and finding a new job.
Six months turned into one year, and now we’re three years out, a little wiser but a lot more traumatized.
She left to work in the ICU first. I stuck around for another year on our medical-surgical unit before finally working up the courage to follow her here.
It’s been so nice to know that I have a friendly face among all the unfamiliar faces on the unit.
I also know that she always has my back if I ever need it.
So far, she’s had nothing but kind things to say about our coworkers, and I’m excited about working in a healthy environment for the first time in years.
Before clocking back into work, I open my message thread with Ben and send him a quick message.
“Hey, did you send me flowers?”
“Who else calls you roomie?”
I smile because he’s clearly the only one.
“Thank you. That was really thoughtful of you.”
“No problem. I hope it brought a smile to your face.”
I put my phone away. My heart feels light, and there are about a hundred butterflies taking flight in my belly.
I haven’t felt like this in a while, if ever.
The further away I get from New Year’s Eve, the better I feel, and I hope it continues to get better.