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MALLORY
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My alarm goes off and I instantly wish I was dead. There is no way that it is already morning. I just fell asleep, or at least it feels that way. No, no, absolutely not. This day cannot happen. The alarm sounds again. My snooze time is up. Alright, there will be no repeat of yesterday. I’m up!
On your game, Mal. You need to be on your game today. I tell myself, as I power up my Keurig. Last night with Berkley was fun, but work before then was not. I never want another day like that. Stressed out in an already stressed situation, no thank you.
I am working pediatrics today, so a shower is needed. Those kids are sweet but brutally honest. I have to be on point with those sickly, yet honest punks.
While sipping my coffee, I shuffle through the clean scrubs hanging in my closet. I find a pressed SpongeBob themed set, and go with that. No one dislikes SpongeBob, not even adults. After my shower, I dress and spend a few minutes making my hair look presentable.
I still have time to stop and get some bagels or a muffin at the deli on my way to work. Good thing because there isn’t anything to eat in this house.
After today, I am off for the next three days and really need to make time to do some grocery shopping. My pantry looks pathetic. On my way out, I grab the lonely brown banana that still sits in my sad produce basket and toss it into the trash. I pull the bag out to take with me.
“Mad, I am off to work. I’ll be back around seven if you want to talk. I’ll get something for dinner.” I call down the hall and wait, but hear no reply. “We can cook together like the old days.” Still nothing. Oh, well, it’s what I get for being such a jerk last night, and every night since she got here.
My walk to work is spectacular. I feel like a weight I didn’t even know was there has been lifted off my shoulders. The sun is slowly rising on the horizon, telling me I am not only going to make it to work on time, but early. Early morning joggers wave at me as I pass. Yes, today will be a good day.
Entering the hospital today differs greatly from how it was yesterday. I am not in a panic; I am also not concerned with the happenings at the ER. Those are their problems, not mine. Today I get to deal with a bunch of kids who might just be dying and don’t even know it. Stop, let’s not get melodramatic about it. Yes, some of those kids will die. No, wait. All of those kids will die. At least some day they will, because we all do. No one lives forever.
I can’t think like that now. Today, all these kids will at least see tomorrow. You know why? Because it is my happy day, and I will not deal with a dead kid on my happy day! Okay, that’s selfish, Mal. Hell, no, it’s not. We aren’t working on the pediatric oncology floor; it’s just general pediatrics, post-surgery, and observation-type cases. No one has to die during my shift and since when have I referred to myself as a “we”? No, stop, I will not overthink this.
“Nice to see you, Mallory. You look bright and refreshed,” Dr. Pratt says as I enter the communal locker room and put my personal things away.
“Hi. Yes, actually, I am feeling really good. I didn’t know you worked in pediatrics.” That’s a lie; he works everywhere. Why would I say that? I close the locker I have assigned to me and turn to stare at him. “Dr. Pratt, Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Mal, I consider us friends, so, yes, you can ask me a personal question.”
“Okay, good. Because this does make me a little uncomfortable.” Sitting down on the bench in front of him, I cross my arms and get ready to ask the question I desperately need an answer to. “Dr. Pratt, are you interested in me? And I don’t mean as in I am an interesting person, but are you interested in getting to know me on an intimate level?” Oh, God, what has gotten into me?
He is clearly uncomfortable with my abrupt question. I suddenly wish I could take it back, perhaps rephrase it, but also glad I somehow found the courage to ask.
“Mal.” He gives me a serious look, but then turns away to think for a few seconds. “I don’t know how to answer that question. On one hand, I am intimidated, yet on the other, I am kind of glad you have brought this up.”
“You still haven’t answered—”
He holds his hand up. “I’m getting there. Look, Mal. I am a single man, and you are a single woman. We seem to have some of the same views in life. I wasn’t trying to be pushy with the cruise talk. I thought it would be a good way for us to get to know each other outside of work.
“There aren’t a lot of single people worth pursuing around here. I’m not saying this because you are a last resort or anything. I am saying this because I would like to find someone that understands me. I need someone that knows my work always comes first. I haven’t had much luck finding that with people outside of the medical field. You seem like someone who would get me, someone who has the same work-life ethic I do. The cruise thing was just a branch and I’m sorry if it seemed like more than that.”
Wow, that was a lot. I feel like this man just unleashed his soul on me and I would be a giant A-hole to deny him. “Dr. Pratt.”
“Please, I think we are past formalities. You can call me Kent.”
“Kent, your first name is Kent. Like that is what your friends and family call you?”
“Among other people. Did you really not know my first name? We have worked together for three or four days a week for the last two years and you didn’t know my first name?” The look on his face breaks my heart, but also brings up some other questions.
“No, Dr. Pratt. I mean Kent. Of course, I knew your first name because we work together. I just have never used it. We have never once seen each other outside of work. Yet, it has come to my attention that we somehow always work together. What is your schedule like, Kent? What days do you work?” I ask.
“My schedule varies. I am on call when off. That’s if I am not on vacation. I try to take a few days a year. It’s necessary in most lines of work. People need a short break from their every day. That’s all I was trying to tell you when I mentioned the cruise.”
This is going nowhere. “Kent. All games aside. I have no plans of going to HR, if that’s what you are worried about.” People these days are so scared about being punished for the smallest slip-up, and I don’t blame them.
“I am not looking to report you for inappropriate behavior. Games are not part of my agenda and I have been burned in the past because of them. If you are interested in me, like as more than a friend, I need you to ask me out. Like take me out on a proper date. The cruise idea might not sound all that bad if I could get to know you more. You know, like on a personal level.”
“Okay,” Dr. Kent Pratt starts. “Sorry, I feel a little intimidated and put on the spot right now. But give me a minute and I will gather my senses.”
“Take your time, Kent. I’ll wait. I didn’t mean you have to ask me right now. Just when you are ready.”
Slipping on my badge, I give him a reassuring smile and leave the room. That should give him something to think about.
There may be a day when I have kids of my own, but it will not be happening anytime soon. Something about the pediatric floor always makes me think these thoughts. Sure, it sometimes smells like vomit or feces, but that’s every floor in this place. What sets these kids apart from the adults is the magic.
It’s the laughter and the happy tears. The bright eyes and the hope that they shine my way every time I look at one of these babies. The murals of safari animals painted all over the walls probably help.
Going to the zoo with my parents as a child seeps into my mind. Mason, my little brother, always rushing ahead, eager to see what awaits him around the corner. Mad sulking in the background, complaining about it being too hot and wanting to know when we will leave. My dad lifting me onto his shoulders so I can feed the giraffes a piece of lettuce.
Then there was mom and her non-stop nagging, “Why is this place always so crowded? I told you to stop running! No, you cannot have a souvenir! They are way overpriced, and you already have too much junk.” She hasn’t changed a bit. Just thinking about her voice brings on a tension headache.
Okay, back to the here and now. I skip to the center island. I love the layout of this place. You can see every room from the nurse’s station. It is not only good for monitoring all the kids, but it makes it hard for nurses to disappear on the job. We know where you are, so get to work.
“So, we meet again.” Dr. Pratt stands on the other side of the counter. How did he get here before me? “About what you said earlier...”
“No, not now,” I whisper. Bethany, the nurse who practically runs this floor, is giving us the side-eye while she pretends to shuffle some charts. “We can talk about it later,” I say in a low voice. “These kids aren’t getting any younger.”
One by one, my patients for the day are greeted and I instantly fall in love with all of them. I have five kids on my rotation. This is another reason why pediatrics is the best. They never give you more than can be handled by one person. A disgruntled parent is more likely to sue the place versus an old man on his deathbed.
Last on my list—before I start over again—is Emily Baker. A five-year-old who just had her tonsils taken out. She has an auto-immune disease and there were some minor complications. Her surgeon thought it best to keep her in for observation for a few days. This girl is obsessed with the show iCarly. I didn’t know kids still watched that. It was one of my favorite shows back in the day. Come to find out they have a spin-off of that show. Man, I really should take some time to get back in touch with recent pop-culture.
Half-way through the day, I am exiting this adorable yet super cranky 2-year-old’s room, when I plow into Dr. Pratt’s chest, almost stabbing him with the pen in my hand. Once I gather my senses and look up, I see that it did indeed get him. There is now a squiggly black line running along his chest.
“Oh, wow. You came out of nowhere. This seems to be happening a lot today.” A choked laugh escapes my lips. It is not attractive. “Sorry, I messed up your pretty white coat.”
“Glad to see you are still in a chipper mood, Mal. However, I didn’t come out of nowhere. I came out of my mother.” This catches me off guard so hard that I actually snort. Did I just snort in front of the guy who might be trying to work up the courage to ask me out? Good going, Mal. You can kiss this one goodbye.
He smiles down at me; yes, down, because he is at least a foot taller than I am. “Oh, I see, you got jokes. Nice,” I say while dipping my head.
“I was actually waiting out here for you. Is it time for your break yet?”
Are we doing this now? Is this really going to happen right now? I guess so because I had planned on taking my break before going to the next room. Another perk of working pediatrics: there is always enough coverage that you never have to skip a break.
“Um, yeah. Let me enter these notes real quick and I’ll be free for a few.” A few meaning I’ll have approximately fifteen minutes. Just enough time for a cigarette if I smoked. Pretty sure a smoker came up with the fifteen-minute break thing.
Dr. Pratt patiently waits by the elevator door while I enter my notes. He is just as crunched for time as I am, so I quickly enter my last patient’s vitals and let Bethany know I’ll be back soon. My patients are all pretty straightforward and most of them have parents with them since it is early afternoon. Night shift nurses are the ones that have it hard on this floor.
I don’t like how he waits for me; it’s too obvious. People are going to talk. The last thing I need is people talking about me hooking up with the hospital’s top physician. Walking past him, and quickly pushing the down button, I whisper, “What are you planning to do for your break?”
He moves to stand next to me, facing the elevator and not the looky-loos behind us. “Get some coffee. You?”
“Same.”
The elevator opens and I am thankful that it’s empty. I cannot get in here and press for the lobby fast enough. The doors close and an unsettling feeling washes over me. Now we are alone. Like alone, alone. It’s not the same as before, not how it was in the locker room this morning. A shift has been made and there is no going back.
“Do you even like the cafeteria coffee?” I ask, sounding stupid as hell but needing to fill the silent void surrounding us.
“Does anyone? It’s like gas station food on a road trip. No one likes it, but what other option do you have?”
He is growing on me. “Not like we can walk the half a mile to Starbucks and wait twenty minutes for something decent to drink.”
“Oh, so you like overpriced sugar. Noted.” The smug look on his face has my face scrunching up in disbelief. He not only has jokes, but he likes to tease; noted on my end.
“Far from it!” I exclaim. “I don’t even like coffee. Yet, caffeine and sugar seem to call out to me at every turn. I think it likes me and I am just really bad at playing hard to get.”
He peers at me with a peculiar expression as we exit the elevator. “As odd as that statement was, I get it.”
“Good, because it wasn’t up for discussion.” Smiling up at him, I suddenly see him in a different light. Funny how we have worked together for so long and I never made the time to get to know him. The real him. I could say that about everyone I work with, though. Besides Berkley, I don’t know a thing about any of these people.
We pour our bland, burnt coffee into disposable cups, add creamer, some sugar, then move to the cashier. Dr. Pratt is in front of me. No matter how much he might want me to call him Kent, I will still always think of him as Dr. Pratt.
We have these employee codes that get us a discount; we can put funds in our accounts to help us save time at checkout. When I step to the register, the woman tells me that my companion already paid for me. Oh, have we arrived at this point already? It’s only two bucks, but still a nice gesture.
Dr. Pratt finds a two-seater table for us to sit at. I get comfortable before asking, “So, you paid for my coffee. Does that mean this is our first date?”
“Uh...” He is speechless. I have rendered the almighty and brilliant Kent Pratt speechless. Sorry, where do I go to accept my award?
“No pressure. I’m just messing with you. Panic attack averted. We can call off the paramedics, but are you really up for finishing your shift?”
Dr. Pratt settles himself. I have crawled under his skin, and it shows. “Do any of us want to finish a shift? It feels more like an obligation at this point.” Whoa, mic drop. Prize-winning Dr. Kent Pratt basically just admitted to hating his job. Okay, hate is a strong word, but no love was heard in those words.
“Alright, we have about six minutes before I have to show my face back on that floor. Let’s get down to business, shall we?”
“Right,” Kent starts. He hasn’t taken a sip from his cup, yet mine is already half gone. Guess we can tell by this exchange who is always in a rush and who isn’t. “Mal, would you like to join me for dinner tomorrow night?”
I don’t know what this guy’s issues are, but he clearly has many. The way his face scrunched up while he asked that tells me he is either cashing in on a bet he didn’t want to lose, or he hasn’t done this in a while. I mean, it has been some time for me, as well, but I don’t act like a freak because of it.
“Okay, I am free, and that sounds good to me.” I have so many questions to ask him, but they can wait for tomorrow.