30. Marcus
30
MARCUS
T he house was dark when I came home, lights were off, and I assumed the kids were already in bed. The constant patter of rain seemed to make the space at home seem more enclosed. I found a plate covered in Saran Wrap with the night’s dinner tucked into the refrigerator waiting for me. It was nights like this that I seemed to miss having somebody to come home to the most, somebody who would wait up for me and not tuck themselves into bed because they had school in the morning.
As my thoughts drifted to Emma and not Blair, I realized just how much I had really come to think of that woman. I wasn’t relying on the memories of Blair to keep me going day to day, but thoughts of Emma and what we could have had were propelling me forward.
She was in L.A., and I was here with a couple of teenagers. And I was only now cluing in that I was in love with her.
I did the routine things. I got my dinner out of the fridge. I microwaved it, set my place at the table, complete with folded a napkin and knife and fork. There was something about the ritual of eating dinner with a modicum of formality that helped me to wrap up my day. There was nothing to stop me from wolfing down my food while I hovered over the sink other than the struggle to maintain my own humanity. I contemplated whether the stressors of the day warranted a drink or not.
Returning to the kitchen, I stood in front of the open refrigerator and stared at the few bottles of beer I had tucked up in the back. How long had they been in there? I really hadn’t had a drink in quite a while. That had been a deliberate choice. I completely stopped consuming alcohol in the months after I lost Blair because that was a hole that was too easy to fall down into and extremely difficult to get out of.
I didn’t want to be that man. I couldn’t be that father.
I closed the refrigerator door on the beer and, pulling a glass out of the cupboard, I filled it with ice from the dispenser on the front of the refrigerator and then filled it with water. I was probably dehydrated, anyway.
After I finished my meal, I took care of the dishes and finished cleaning the kitchen. I needed to make sure I let Lily know her cooking skills were much appreciated and were definitely getting better.
I was relieved that she was no longer taking her anger out on me in the meals she made on the nights she was responsible for cooking. While a peanut butter and jelly sandwich was food, it didn’t feel much like a dinner.
I had an appointment next week with her therapist, so I would make sure that I mentioned this improvement in her attitude. One of my tasks for therapy was to point out when Lily did something right and to not focus on the problems or areas I thought she could improve on, but to focus on the good. She needed to see that I did still trust her, even though she had made a mistake, and she needed to see that I didn’t blame her for everything.
My child was hurting. It was my job to do the best I could to ease the pain of the world for her. So I had homework too.
With the dishwasher running and the house still quiet with everyone except me asleep, I began thinking about that drink again. It would be nice to just sit alone in the quiet with my thoughts and the sound of the rain. This kind of contemplative scenario was not one for beer but deserved something a little more refined.
I grabbed a short glass from the cupboard and dropped in a couple of ice cubes before carrying it out to the cabinet in the dining room where the good stuff was kept. I selected a fine-aged scotch and poured myself a couple of finger widths’ worth. After all, I wanted to sit and savor and think about the universe and Emma. I wasn’t doing this for some kind of quick buzz.
Unfortunately, that’s when my watch pinged with an incoming message.
“Who the hell would be texting me now?” I said aloud as I set the glass down and tapped the front of my watch. It was late, and I didn’t really know anybody who would be texting me other than the kids, and they were both asleep. My gut clenched temporarily as it occurred to me that Blair’s parents would still contact me in an emergency.
It was an incoming message from the hospital. I let out a slow breath knowing it wasn’t my in-laws. I had just left my shift, and I wasn’t on call, so this message was concerning. I set the scotch down on the table and went to the other room to retrieve my phone.
I dialed into the department. “Walker here, what’s up?”
“Oh, good, Dr. Walker. Are you available? There was a subway accident, and we need everybody we can get.”
“That bad, huh?”
“It’s bad. It’s already all over the news, and it’s going to be the leading story for the next couple of days. I know you just got off a shift, but if you are capable, yeah, if you can get in here, we need you.”
“I’ll head right in,” I said.
I picked up the glass of scotch and looked at it as if it were an old friend I was going to have to pass on a dinner meeting with. I shook my head with disappointment.
Momentarily, I thought about pouring the scotch back into the bottle, but the ice had already started to melt, and I certainly didn’t want to taint what was left. I carried the glass and its contents into the kitchen and poured everything down the sink. “Maybe next time.”
I rummaged in the kitchen junk drawer until I found a notepad and left the kids a note. If I sent Jason a text message, the ping would wake him from his sleep. Lily still didn’t have her phone back from her punishment.
With everything at home set, I called a cab and headed in to the hospital.
On the ride in, my cabbie asked, “What brings you out in this weather? Where are you headed this time of night?”
“Manhattan Memorial,” I said.
“Wait, you want me to take you to Manhattan Memorial? The hospital? City General is closer if you need an emergency room.”
“I don’t need an ER. I need to get to Manhattan Memorial.”
“It’ll be a little longer than normal. Traffic is a mess. It’s like a little rain and people forget how to drive. Plus, there’s been something going on with the subways, got some streets mostly shut down. You heard about that?” he asked.
“That’s why I’m headed in.”
“Oh, no, you didn’t have somebody involved, did you?” he asked with what sounded like genuine concern.
“No, no, I’m an emergency doctor. They called me back in to help out.”
“Oh, they’re gonna need you tonight. I heard it’s really bad.”
“Do you know anything? Have they given out any details?” I asked. “I only heard about it when they called to see if I could come back in. I haven’t had a chance to look any information up on my phone.”
“No real details, yet. I’ve only heard that a car went off its rails, and lots of people got hurt. And we got some lines that are going to be shut down for days. It’s going to be a logistical nightmare getting around the city for a while. As if it isn’t already, am I right? That just means more cab fares for me. Not that I’d wish this kind of thing on anybody just to get me more fares in my pockets, you know what I’m saying? But when the subways aren’t working and it’s raining out, I always put in a few more hours a day. The wife doesn’t complain about the overtime when it brings in extra pay. Am I right?”
“I hear you,” I said.
His chatter entertained me during the drive. He was right, traffic was a mess tonight, and it took longer than usual.
As soon as I got to the hospital, I went straight to the emergency department to see what the situation was, and it was absolute mayhem when I arrived.
“Oh, Dr. Walker, I’m so glad you’re here, “Rosa Hernandez said, relief in her tone.
“What have we got?”
The details were sketchy, but apparently, several cars were off the tracks. There may have been a collision of some sort, but I never found out if it was between multiple trains or if a train had collided with some equipment.
“We’re maxed out on patients, but there are still more coming in,” a different intake nurse said.
“Can’t we send them downtown? How about City General, or New York Medical?” I asked.
“We’re getting their overflow. Plus it’s just a chaotic night. Half our patients aren’t even from the incident,” Rosa commented.
I wasn’t needed in triage. I was there for surgery, so I suited up and scrubbed down.