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  “I can eat?” My stomach audibly growled at the thought of food.

  “Well, not so fast. We have to start small,” she insisted. I felt like she had just dangled a juicy steak dinner in front of me then promptly tossed it in the trash. “Your stomach hasn’t had anything for almost a week and you’ve been on a lot of medication that affects your digestion. We’re going to start with clear liquids in small quantities and advance it as you tolerate it.”

  This girl was really starting to get on my nerves.

  “So, can we get that started? The liquids, I mean? I’m starving.”

  “Sure,” she granted. “Would you prefer some apple juice or a popsicle?”

  “Both,” I answered. “ALL the popsicles.”

  She giggled and playfully swatted at my arm, almost flirting.

  “You can only have one to start off. We’ll see how you do. Trust me, you don’t want to be puking with that abdominal incision.” I glanced down at my stomach and contracted my abs, immediately regretting it. “You’ll thank me later,” she said with a wink, and then she left the room.

  I moved the lightweight blanket down and lifted my hospital gown up to expose my stomach. There was a huge zipper of staples running from the bottom of my rib cage all the way down to my—oh my God, there is a rubber hose coming out of my dick.

  “NURSE!” I yelled. Holy mother of God. “NURSE!”

  She ran in with a panicked look on her face, holding a wrapped ice pop.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s something in my…in, uhh, in my junk—a tube or something. You’ve got to get it out. Pull it out, please?”

  “Mr. Bennett, that’s your catheter.”

  “Yeah, well, whatever it is, you’ve got to get it out.”

  “It’s just a Foley catheter. You need that.”

  “I definitely do not need that,” I urged, begging her. “Please get it out.”

  “That tube is draining your bladder. Until you get up and start moving, we need to keep it in and keep a close eye on your urine output lev—”

  “Look, Miss Nurse—I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name, but you’ve got to get this thing out or I’m going to pull it out.” I reached down and again was almost sick at the sight of it.

  She grabbed my forearm with force and spoke with a stern voice that was at least a few octaves lower than her normal high-pitched mousey tone I’d grown accustomed to. “That tube is staying in place by an inflated balloon that’s inside your bladder. You yank on the hose and you will slice through the inside of your urethra, causing an immense amount of pain and certainly a ruined penis for the foreseeable future. Do. Not. Touch. It.” Her expression was firm and quite scary.

  “I’ll get up, I’ll move—whatever you need me to do. Call the physical therapy people. Let’s do this.” I was willing to do just about anything to get that rubber hose the hell out of me.

  “I’m working on it, Mr. Bennett. One thing at a time. Here’s your popsicle.” She tore the paper wrapping at the top and handed it to me, annoyed. “Eat it slowly, and if you get nauseous at all, please, for the love of all that’s holy, make it into this emesis bag. It’s not going to be a fun day for either of us if you puke all over your bed.”

  “I got it. I won’t puke.”

  She left the room and in a matter of seconds, the popsicle was gone. I didn’t much care for grape but the cold sugary treat felt like heaven sliding down my sore throat, and it was nice to have some sort of flavor in my mouth, even if it wasn’t my favorite. My mind wandered to Andie. I wondered if she’d seen the tube sticking out of my dick. Embarrassing. Then again, she’d had her hands inside my body, removing one of my internal organs, and that’s about as intense as it gets. I doubted she cared about a tube coming out of my pee hole.

  I had to talk to her again, couldn’t wait. Perhaps it was all the drugs and sedation, but she was a hard person to read. On the one hand, she seemed a little unnerved by me, but I really couldn’t tell if she recognized me or not. I definitely looked a lot different than the last time we saw each other. I’d replayed that day in my mind almost every single day for the past twenty-four years. I had only been eleven, but it played out in my head constantly, like a highlight reel.

  The events of that day were etched into my memory as if it had just happened the day before. It was burned into my soul forever, and I had spent so many years trying to remember more so I could try to find her. I either had to find her or I had to find a way to forget about her. Later learning I had almost been beaten to death was quite sobering. They’d struck me in the back with an aluminum baseball bat, fracturing multiple ribs and two of my vertebrae. The doctors had said it was mere millimeters away from causing a permanent spinal cord injury. They’d also broken multiple bones in my face, including my right eye socket, and fractured my skull. If I had tried to get up, my brain could’ve hemorrhaged. If she hadn’t arrived to help me and called the ambulance when she did, I could very well have died. She had calmed me. She’d saved my life that day, and there I was lying in a hospital bed once again because she had saved my life.

  Chapter 11

  Andie

  It was a rarity that I had more than two days off in a row. I was contracted for two shifts per week with one flex shift somewhere in a two-week span, and I could pretty much pick and choose when it was. But, when I’d signed that contract, I was the new kid on the block, so to speak, and eager to not only impress my more seasoned colleagues, but also to get as much time as I could in that operating room to hone my skills. So, I signed up for more: three shifts each week, sometimes even doing every other day if another physician needed a schedule change due to a family obligation or trip. For over two years, I had been working that grueling schedule, but for whatever reason, the most recent rotation had fallen differently and I was in my house, going stir crazy on my third day off in a row.

  The initial crazed mental state I was in after my encounter with Bennett was appeased with a six-mile jog while jamming out to some angry gangsta rap, but the relief was only temporary, like putting a Band-Aid on a bullet hole. I tried to nap, but that effort was futile. Sleep evaded me, per usual, as my mind raced. I chose instead to do an hour of yoga followed by meditation and found myself awkwardly curled on my hard living room floor hours later, lying on my folded up left arm, which had painfully fallen asleep. The string of drool connecting me to the floor when I picked up my head was especially nice.

  The following day I chose to spend my time catching up on all of my adult responsibilities. The house was spotless, groceries were purchased, and I even checked my emails. Each activity was more mundane and more unfulfilling than the previous one, and I repeatedly had the thought that I would rather be at work. Numerous people made frequent comments about how I was crazy to work so much, but it was my favorite thing to do. The hospital was the only place I didn’t feel bored or anxious.

  What would a normal person do?

  A normal person would watch television or read a book, maybe even hang out with a friend. I didn’t much feel like sitting around being still with a book or movie, so I called Rowan.

  After three rings, her voice came blaring through the speaker of my cell phone. “Afternoon, you FINE piece of—”

  “Heeeeey!” I interrupted, earning a laugh from her end of the line.

  “What’s shakin’?”

  “I’m bored. When do you get off?”

  I was completely out of distractions. She was my only hope, and the thought made me feel quite pathetic.

  “Hold on, I need to record this conversation. This is a big moment.”

  “What?” I asked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “You, calling me, actually initiating something—this is huge.”

  “Oh, shut up. You’re an idiot,” I scolded, unamused. Of course she would mock me and try to make a joke out of the whole thing.

  “Andie Fine, you miss me, don’t you?” she teased. “You loooooove me. You ju
st can’t live without me and you need to see me all the time or you go through withdrawals like a junkie. You’re addicted to Rowan Kline.”

  “I’m about to hang up on you,” I barked into her singsong mockery.

  “You can admit it. Go ahead, it’s okay. I won’t tell anyone else about your momentary lapse in the socially awkward facade you maintain.”

  “What? Why are you being so mean?” She ragged on me all the time about how awkward I was, but I couldn’t help it. The more I tried not to be awkward, the more disingenuous and awkward I ended up being.

  “I’m not. Calm down. I’m only kidding with you. I just know the real you and although I’m way too selfish to share, I wish the other people we work with could know the real you sometimes too.”

  “I don’t care what they think,” I retorted defensively.

  “I know you don’t, and neither do they. Anyway, what’s going on?”

  “I wanted to see what your plans were when you got off.”

  “Well, I’m supposed to get off in about an hour, but I doubt I’ll get out on time. One of my admits from yesterday is now full-blown septic and I can’t figure out why.”

  “Can you tell me about him?” I was excited about potentially solving a puzzle.

  “Her, actually. Let me walk down the hall a little.” I heard some rustling as she moved into an area where she could talk patient information without being overheard. “Okay, sorry.”

  “No problem. I understand.”

  “Yeah, so this girl comes in yesterday with what I thought were typical flu-like symptoms.”

  “Girl?” I broke in. “How old is she?”

  “Fifteen or sixteen. She presented with general malaise, fatigue, fever for twelve or so hours at the time of admission, unrelieved by the Tylenol and Motrin she had taken at home.”

  “Did she have any respiratory symptoms?” I inquired, trying to rule out illnesses in my head with every piece of information I got.

  “She was tachypnic and tachycardic but other than that, no. Diaphoretic, weak, pretty pitiful in fact.”

  “How high was her fever?”

  “One oh four one,” she recited. “And she complained of a headache and abdominal pain.”

  “Did we get a CT?”

  “Yep—unremarkable. Blood cultures are still pending.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “PICU. She’s still febrile, not responding to IV antibiotics just yet, and unable to keep anything down.”

  “Even with antiemetics?” I inquired.

  “Yeah. She’s in rough shape. I consulted infectious disease but I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Did we do a pregnancy test?” I suddenly had a train of thought.

  “Yes, negative. She said she recently got off of her period.”

  “How long ago?” I had a feeling about this.

  “I don’t remember what she said, a week maybe.”

  “Do a pelvic exam.”

  “What? Why?” Rowan shrieked.

  “She may have a retained tampon or menstrual cup. You may be dealing with toxic shock.”

  “Whoa.” She sighed. “If that’s what it is, I’m going to wig out. I’ll call you back.”

  The phone call ended and a shy grin spread on my face.

  Two and a half hours later, my doorbell rang, and I found Rowan on the other side of my front door. I opened it and received an aggressive hug, so tight I could barely breathe.

  “YOU, Dr. Fine, are a freaky magical genius! A unicorn of sorts.”

  “Oh yeah?” I questioned with my brows raised. “And why is that?”

  “It was indeed a retained tampon—been up there for over a week. That thing smelled like a dead body.”

  “You sound way more excited about this than you should.”

  “Well, it wasn’t exactly the most fun procedure I’ve ever had to perform, but I’m stoked that we—well, you figured it out. She’ll get better now.” She made herself at home right away, tossing her purse onto the couch, lifting her scrub top up over her head and walking to the back of the house where the laundry room was. I heard the water of the washing machine start and in my periphery saw her walk out wearing only a bra and panty set. “I’m borrowing some clothes!” she yelled as she ran up the stairs to my room. Returning a few moments later wearing one of my college t-shirts and a pair of yoga pants, she walked over to the kitchen and searched the fridge for a snack. “How many cases of TSS have you seen before?”

  “None,” I admitted. “I remember studying it but I’ve never treated a patient with it before.”

  “Freaky. Magical. Genius.”

  “Nah, just a good memory and a sprinkle of common sense.”

  “My mind didn’t even go there. I’m so appreciative, seriously. She could’ve died.”

  “She wouldn’t have died,” I declared.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I would’ve seen her tomorrow and figured it out,” I joked, a smug expression on my face.

  “Ha ha,” she shot back, pulling out a package of cheese and reaching for a loaf of bread. “Nobody likes a showoff.”

  “I’m just kidding.” I joined her in the kitchen and retrieved a small skillet from my cabinet, assuming she wanted to make grilled cheese.

  “You’re getting better and better at this sense of humor thing, girl,” she remarked, taking the pan from my outstretched hand. “You want one too?”

  “Sure.” I handed her the butter dish and a knife out of the silverware drawer. “So, anything else exciting go down today at Springfield Health?”

  My attempt to sound casual was uncomfortable.

  “Not really. We did get a patient in the morning who had stabbed himself in the heart. That was interesting, I suppose.”

  “Wait, on purpose?”

  “No. He was trying to cut a zip tie off of something with his knife and pulled it toward him instead of cutting in the opposite direction like a smarter person would’ve done. The knife snapped back after making the cut and plunged right into his chest.”

  “Oh my gosh. Did he survive?”

  “So far. Stupid thing pierced his aortic valve. Lucky for him, Coston was on today and managed to stabilize him.”

  I sat quietly picturing what a bloodbath that case must’ve been, sad to have missed out on the opportunity to assist in it. Just as my mind drifted to another patient of mine in the ICU, Rowan chimed in.

  “I rounded on your MVA this morning. He asked about you,” she offered nonchalantly.

  “Yeah? How’s he doing?” I tried to match my reply to her indifference, but inside my heart was instantly racing and I could feel the blush rising into my face.

  “Much better. He’s so hot!” she added, flipping our sandwiches over to brown the other side. “It’s hard to have a conversation with him—his face is so distracting.”

  “That’s reassuring to hear. I thought it was just me who was unnerved,” I confessed while trying to calm myself down. I felt so stupid and didn’t understand why my body was betraying me with such a ridiculous reaction.

  “Nope. He’s intense,” she agreed.

  “Why would he ask about me?”

  “I don’t know. He seemed disappointed that you weren’t there today. Maybe he has the hots for you.”

  “He does not,” I roared defensively.

  “What if he does? You should get on that, Andie,” she playfully suggested with a wink.

  “Oh shut up,” I commanded, rising from my seat in an effort to get away from the topic. “What do you want to drink?” I desperately wanted to change the subject.

  “Water’s fine. Seriously, though, he’s attractive, your age, single…what’s stopping you?”

  “First of all, he’s my patient. Second, how do you know he’s single?” I asked, both shocked that she would ask him something like that and also not surprised at all.

  “He hasn’t had anyone so much as visit him the entire time he’s been there. Don’t you think a wife
or girlfriend would’ve shown up by now?”

  “I don’t know. It’s none of my business.” I refused to admit I was curious.

  “Whatever, Andie.”

  We sat on the couch and ate our grilled cheese sandwiches in quiet until her phone started singing the tune of A-ha’s “Take On Me”.

  “That’s Richard,” she murmured, reaching into her bag to find the phone. “I forgot to tell him I wasn’t going straight home. Hey, babe!” she greeted him, answering the call. He was saying something on the other end that I couldn’t hear. “I was a little late getting out and now I’m at Andie’s for a bit.”

  My mind wandered to Vaughn Bennett as she continued talking. Hopefully I had gotten the weirdness out of my system and could find a way to keep my composure a little better when I rounded on him next.

  “Sure. I’ll head out soon and go grab it. Should I leave it at the front with Sylvia or come to your office?” I was trying not to eavesdrop. “Okay. Give me an hour. Love you too.”

  “What’s that all about?” I inquired as she ended the call.

  “He needs me to bring him a file he left at the apartment. I gotta go. I can’t show up at his office looking like this.” She gestured to the rumpled state of her hair and current attire. She grabbed our plates and set them in the sink, walking back over to sling her purse over her shoulder. “Sorry to eat and run. I’ll catch you tomorrow?” She hugged me goodbye and abruptly left, still wearing my clothes.

  Chapter 12

  Andie

  Around 11 PM, as I closed the incision on my patient’s thigh after extracting two bullets that, fortunately for him, did not come into contact with his femoral artery, I thought I was finally going to be able to get some rest. We had to get him up to the ICU first, but maybe, just maybe I could catch a nap until the next crisis arrived.