Ella
Bernard drives me straight to Mercy Hospital after I confirm with Susan that I can come in now rather than before a shift.
He holds my hand, rubs my leg as I breathe through my anxiety. I can hoist myself into the air. I can sit across from someone and listen while they let me know my fate. I can do this.
I keep glancing at Bernard. His black eye deepened into a purple crescent, and I wonder briefly if he chipped an orbital bone again.
"Stop assessing me," he says.
"You should get that checked out.”
"I had other priorities last night." He squeezes my hand. “I’ll see the trainer tomorrow, okay?”
I nod and try the visualization exercises Bernard told me about before my boards. I imagine Susan telling me she’s proud of me, that I get to stay.
By the time Bernard pulls into the parking garage, I’m almost calm.
I unclip my seatbelt and sit there for a second, staring at the concrete wall. “Am I too sweaty and casual to talk to my boss about this?”
He cracks a crooked smile and shakes his head. “Would you feel more comfortable in bloody scrubs?”
I huff. “Honestly, maybe.”
Bernard cups my cheek and turns me to face him, his beautiful eyes warm and encouraging. “Whatever happens in there," he says, “know that you’re amazing. A piece of paper doesn’t define you or your ability.”
"I know."
"Do you?"
I look at him. "Yeah," I say. "I think I do."
I get out, cross the lot, and summon the elevator up to the admin offices. The hallway smells like floor wax and printer toner, a different universe from the ER's antiseptic chaos. My sneakers squeak on the tile.
Susan is waiting outside the nurse manager's office. She's in her usual scrubs, reading glasses pushed up on her head, and when she sees me, she smiles. She doesn’t seem upset and doesn’t appear to judge my outfit.
"There she is," Susan says, draping an arm around my shoulder. "Come on in."
I want to let myself feel relief, but the voice in my head whispers that Susan could be preparing to let me down with love.
The nurse manager's name is Monique. She's a Black woman in her mid-fifties with gray hair and reading glasses on a chain, the kind of woman who has framed diplomas on every wall and a candy dish on her desk that nobody touches because it feels like a trap.
I sit in the chair across from her, fold my hands in my lap, and brace for the word "unfortunately."
Monique opens a folder. "Ella, your NCLEX results came back."
I stop breathing.
"You nailed it, my dear.”
The room goes very still. Susan puts a hand on my shoulder.
Monique nods, smiling. “You made our externship program look very good indeed. In a time where we really needed a win.” She opens a folder and gestures at the paperwork.
“Combined with your clinical evaluations and the feedback from the ER attendings, you are quite the candidate for a permanent nursing position.”
I open my mouth, and nothing comes out.
"We have some options for you." Monique slides a printout across the desk. "There's an opening on the med-surg unit. Day shift, excellent mentorship. It's a competitive placement, and frankly, it's unusual to offer it to a new grad."
I look at the printout. Steady hours. Normal schedule. Patients who are stable.
"Or," Susan says, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, "you stay with me in the ER."
I look at Susan, who raises an eyebrow. I think about the kid with internal bleeding. The quarter swallower. The panic attack woman I sat with and made laugh. The sound of the trauma bay when everything is moving fast, and my hands are steady, and my mind is clear.
"ER," I say.
Susan grins. "That's my girl."
Monique makes a note in the folder and smiles again. “An excellent choice. Congratulations, Ella. Please remember to negotiate with me regarding this signing bonus.”
She slides a piece of paper across the desk and looks at me expectantly.
Susan chuckles behind me, coughing the word “double” into her fist.
I glance at the number, a big one, and laugh uncomfortably. “Um, I guess …I was expecting double that number.”
Monique purses her lips, and I cannot tell what she is thinking. Did I just cost myself the job? Am I so unprepared for this? But Monique taps the desk. “We are prepared to offer fifty percent more.”
A puff of air escapes my mouth, which is good because it masks the scream I’m trying to stifle. I will have actual money now to get my own place to live, a paycheck to chip away at my student loans.
"Thank you." My voice sounds strange to me. Thick. "Thank you both."
Monique has already moved on to other work, typing furiously as she nods. Susan takes my arm and guides me into the hallway, where she gives me a squeeze. “I knew it, honey. You’re a natural.”
My body swirls with emotions I can’t name. Relief? Excitement? Could this be what pride feels like? I feel an overwhelming pull to call Bernard.
But I meet Susan’s gaze and admit to her, "You scared me with that voicemail."
"I scared you?" She laughs. "I was trying to be professional. Believe me, I wanted to call you screaming."
I laugh, and it shakes loose something that's been lodged in my windpipe since yesterday. Maybe longer.
"One more thing," Susan says, adjusting her glasses. "Now that you're permanent staff, I expect you to get me into a Fury game. Your brother gets good seats, right?”
"I'll see what I can do."
She pats my back and heads toward the elevator. I stand in the hallway for a minute. The fluorescent lights buzz. A janitor pushes a mop cart past me. Somewhere below, the ER is humming along without me, handling whatever Pittsburgh throws at it, and tomorrow I'll be down there as a real RN.
I take the skybridge back to the garage. Bernard's G-Wagon sits right where I left it, heat shimmering from the engine in the cold air. I open the door and climb in.
He turns to me, face steady in anticipation.
"I passed."
His eyes brighten. "Of course you did."
"They offered me a permanent job and…a bonus.”
"Ella." He reaches across the console and cups the back of my neck and pulls me toward him and kisses my forehead, my cheek, my mouth. "Of course they did."
"You don't seem surprised."
"I'm not." He releases me, turns on the engine, puts the car in gear, and pulls out of the spot. "I was so sure of it that I already called your friends. Aarthi and McKenzie are meeting us at Gianna's."
"You called my friends?”
He nods, glancing over his shoulder to turn onto Fifth Avenue. “Spinner had McKenzie’s number. Everyone’s been worried about you since your brother saw you were looking at flights.”
My stomach tightens. "Jason?"
"He's been scouring the airport looking for you since this morning, Ella. He thought you flew home." Bernard glances at me. "He wants to be there for you.”
I lean back in the heated seat and close my eyes. The sun is out. The car is warm. Bernard is beside me, and my friends are waiting, and my brother is coming, and I just became a real nurse.
The air around me feels different now. My body is … not relieved, exactly. Not happy necessarily. I feel a little like a joint that's been out of alignment for twenty-three years just clicked into place, and the pain I thought was permanent turns out to have been transient.
I did something difficult. I did it well. And the people around me--the ones I found, the ones I chose--chose me back. I trust that. They want to celebrate. Not because I'm somebody's sister or somebody's afterthought, but because I'm Ella, and Ella is enough.
I open my eyes and look at Bernard's profile. This man helped make all this happen for me. He gained nothing from this. Except, I guess, my heart.
"Bernard."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
He takes my hand. "For what?"
“Everything.”
He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles.