Heartstrings (2 page)

I scrub down my body and lather up my hair, savoring the
feel of the hot water against my tired muscles. I’ve been working like a maniac
lately, picking up extra shifts in anticipation of my upcoming vacation. In one
short week, I will headed off on a cross country road trip all by myself. I’ve
been planning the trip for a year, and finally saved up enough vacation time to
do it right. For two weeks, it’ll just be me and the open road. I got my little
car all tuned up and ready to go, I’ve mapped my route down to every last gas
station and pit stop...I just have to make it through this week, and I’ll be
free and clear. I smile to myself as I step out of the shower, imagining the
peace that will come over me as I stare down a long stretch of empty highway,
not a care in the world.

But first things first. I pat myself dry and step into my
baby blue scrubs. My dad bought them for me as a graduation present—they’ve got
my name, Julia, stitched into the sleeve. It’s a little corny, I know, but they
make me feel close to home. My parents don’t live far away, barely half an
hour. I grew up outside of Philly, which is where my hospital is located now.
But I’ve only been out on my own for a few years, and it gets a little lonely
sometimes. I’m an only child, so my parents were always very involved with my
life. Even now, they don’t hesitate to offer opinions and advice, whether I ask
for it or not. I don’t know what I’d do without their support, overbearing as
they may sometimes be.

I brush out my long hair in the mirror, my light blue eyes skirting
over my body, searching for any last minute adjustments that need to be made
before work. I don’t wear any makeup on the job, but my skin has always been
remarkably clear and fair. My smile is what really gets me by at work. It’s
nice and big, the first thing that patients remark on. And if a smile will set
them at ease from the get go, I’ll flash it as many times as I need to.

Satisfied with my appearance, I turn on my heel and head
downstairs. The coffee machine is on an automatic timer, and I make all my
meals on Sunday and package them up for the rest of the week. As I step into
the kitchen, my cat Gustav is sitting on the counter, waiting for his own
breakfast. As a teenager I promised myself that I wouldn’t get a cat until I
had a long term boyfriend, so as to avoid becoming a cat lady. But that plan
had been dashed to pieces when I found a tiny stray kitten in the hospital
parking garage one night. He’d been nothing more than a little puff of gray fur
that day, and there was no question of leaving him there alone. I’m OK with
being a cat lady in training, though. Gustav happens to be excellent company.

I crack open a can of cat chow and let Gustav have at. The
coffee machine beeps as I swing open the fridge and find six cups of yogurt,
fruit, and granola lined up in front of me. Not a thing out of place. Then out
of nowhere, a pang of dissatisfaction ripples through me. The sight of my
twenty one meals arrayed before me, the feel of my work uniform against my
skin, the sheer predictability of my existence smacks me right in the kisser. I
do love the life I’ve built for myself, but it can get a little depressing and
monotonous sometimes. It’s like I’m on autopilot. The view is just fine, and
the ride is comfortable, but there’s simply no room for spontaneity. And
absolutely no excitement outside of work. 

“Well, we can’t have it all, can we Gus?” I say to my feline
companion, giving him a good scratch behind the ears. He purrs his agreement,
and I try not to make too much of the fact that I’m alone in my house, having a
conversation with my pet. Cat lady status suddenly seems much more imminent
than it once did. But as ever, I have a job to do. There’s no time to sit
around wondering about what my life might be like “if only...”. I should be grateful
for everything that I have—a great job, a loving family, supportive friends. So
what if I haven’t been on a successful date in...oh...six months or so? That’s
what my vibrator is for. At least it never forgets to call back. Or expects me
to make breakfast in the morning.

I hurry out to my newly-improved car and start off for work.
As I drive through my neighborhood, waving to the moms and dads getting their
kids off to school, I wonder whether I should be striving to get myself a
family soon. As much as I love kids and people, I’m not in any rush. If there’s
anything I feel like I’m missing out on, it’s my wild and crazy twenties. So
many of my friends moved to the city after graduation, got barista and bar
tending jobs rather than rushing into a set career. And though they certainly
don’t have the job stability I do, they seem to have a lot more...fun. After
three years at this job, I sometimes worry that I’m forgetting what fun is.
These days, making avocado face masks from scratch and organizing my closet
seems like fun.

I worry that I’m missing out on my rightful debaucheries,
but there’s no time to dwell on it now. I sail into the hospital parking garage
and hop out of my car. I’m right on time, as usual, but that doesn’t mean that
I have the luxury of strolling. I push through the hospital doors and head for
my station. The day nurses are getting their reports together, and I listen as
the woman I’m relieving fills me in on the state of things in the ER. It had
been a pretty quiet day, as far as things went. I hope that the night will
continue on in relative peace, but don’t dare say it out loud. That kind of
talk will jinx you in a second. I tuck my things into my locker and head back
out into the unit, waiting to be put to use.

“Good morning, doll face,” says a chipper voice from behind
the desk. I turn to see my fellow nurse Penny grinning back at me. Penny and I
started in the ER at just about the same time, and bonded quickly over our
mutual terror of messing something up. She’s always been the quintessential
pretty nurse—if we’d lived in the forties, she would have been the one that all
the soldiers wrote home about. Her hair is coppery red, hence her name, and
with her high cheekbones and cute button nose, she’s far and away the prettiest
person I’ve ever seen up close.

“You look like you’ve got a secret,” I tell her, sidling up
to the desk.

She heaves a sigh and smiles wickedly. “I do have a bit of a
dilemma, Julia.”

“Spill,” I say, savoring a couple minutes of girl talk
before some catastrophe strikes.

“Well,” Penny says, “You remember that guy Jeremy I was
dating?”

“The oncologist?” I ask.

“Yeah. Well, things are going OK with him, but I’ve sorta
been seeing this other guy at the same time. His name’s Dylan. He’s an intern.”

“I’m definitely not seeing the dilemma,” I say. Even with
our busy, chaotic work lives, Penny manages to keep a revolving door of lovers
in her life.

“The thing is,” she whispers conspiratorially, “Jeremy just
told me last night that he wants to try having a threesome with me and someone
else.”

“Another woman?” I ask.

“No,” Penny says, “Another man!”

“...Wow,” I say, at a loss.

“So, how am I supposed to ask Dylan? I mean, I know he’s
going to say yes. He’s not physically capable of saying no to me. But I want to
at least go through the charade of asking. And then, oh my god, when we’re
actually in it...? How am I supposed to handle that much sex?”

“You’re asking the wrong girl,” I laugh, “I have a strictly
monogamous relationship with my vibrator right now.”

“I’m sorry Julia,” Penny says, “I’m being so crude.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” I say, “I have to live
vicariously through someone. It might as well be someone who gets as much tail
as you do.”

“I’m honored,” Penny says, winking. “Are you all set for
your trip coming up? You must be so excited!”

“Hell yes!” I exclaim, “Just counting down the days until I
set off. One week exactly, and then I’m free as a bird. For a little while, at
least.”

“You won’t get lonely, being away by yourself?” Penny asks.

I have purposefully put that thought out of my mind until
now. Chances are, I will feel lonely at some point. But it will be a good,
enriching kind of loneliness. The self-affirming kind. Either that or it will
just be kind of pathetic, I can’t really say for sure. “I’ll be fine,” I say to
Penny, “I just feel bad about leaving you here on your own.”

“I don’t really know what I’m going to do without you,”
Penny says, “Who’s going to tell me how to work all this fancy equipment and
pronounce all these big medical words while you’re away?”

We burst out laughing together. Riffing on stereotypes about
nurses is one of our favorite past times. If anyone knew how hard a job it
really is, how demanding it is both physically and emotionally, no one would
dare make fun of nurses. But if there’s one thing you learn from working is a
hospital, it’s that people are pretty much solely concerned with their own
points of view. Most people are short on empathy, truth be told. So when you
find someone who has it, you hold on for dear life.

Before either of us can speak another word, the doors of the
ER fly open. A swarm of people surges through the door, tearing down the
corridor with a stretcher between them. This in itself is nothing
extraordinary—new arrivals are whisked back as quick as possible, especially if
they’re in critical condition. What does surprise me is the sheer amount of
people surrounding this new patient. A couple of nurses are already on hand,
but at least three doctors as well. There seems to be quite a few hangers-on, as
well. Penny and I fly into the pack and do our best to hold back the crowd of
people who are trying to follow the stretcher as it disappears down the
hallway.

“Sir,” I say to a short man who looks something like a
basset hound, “Sir, you can’t go back there unless you’re family.”

“I’m better than family,” the man tells me, staring wildly
after the stretcher, “I’m his manager! You have to let me through.”

“I’m very sorry,” I repeat, “You’ll have to wait outside.”

Penny is trying to calm a disconsolate young woman in a
tattered black dress. I look around at the assembled group and notice a theme
emerging. Every person present, save the basset hound manager, is incredibly
attractive, young, and dressed up in some kind of punk rock ensemble. Who in
the world could they be? My best guess was an off-season Halloween party gone
awry.

“Please,” says a man to my right. He was thick set but
muscular, with a dark, scruffy face. “Let us go back with him. It’s our fault
he got hurt—we should have kept him from trying to stage dive.”

“Stage dive?” I say, incredulously, “What are—? No. Never
mind. There’s no time. All of you need to go back to the waiting room right now
so that we can go help your friend.”

“Don’t let him die,” wails the beautiful young woman, “He’s
like...the next messiah!”

“I’m sure he is,” I tell her, shooing the herd back through
the doors. They shuffle out begrudgingly, shooting mean glances back at Penny
and I. As the doors snap shut behind them, we turn on our heels and race after
the stretcher. I have no idea why there are so many doctors vying for this
patient, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we do all we can to help
him.

I race around the corner with Penny hot on my heels and
swing into the man’s room. Through the throng of doctors and nurses, I can see
that he’s been laid out, and his clothes cut from his body. As I make my way
closer, I finally get a good view of the man. My breath catches in my throat as
I let my eyes linger on his well defined six pack, the firm panes of his chest,
and his massive biceps that tense as he balls up his big fists in pain. My eyes
dart up to his face. His long black curls are sweat soaked, and a thin trail of
blood runs down the side of his face, but despite all that, he is the most
beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life. His eyes, when they open, are a warm
chestnut brown. His razor sharp jaw and cleft chin are covered in dark stubble,
and his lips are full and firm. For the first time in my nursing career, I
freeze—stunned by the gorgeous person before me. I didn’t think that men like
him existed outside of glossy magazines and, well, Greek mythology.

“Julia!” yells Dr. Kelly, snapping me out of my stunned
reverie.

“Yes?” I ask, ripping my attention away from that incredible
face, that solid body...

“If you’re too star struck to be of any help, then please
get out of the way.”

I feel as though I’ve been slapped, and gather myself up. I
don’t bother responding to the jab, I simply force my head back into the
moment, onto the task at hand. Right now, this man is just my patient. However
perfect his body might be, it needs some assistance at the moment.

It becomes clear that he’s had a bad fall. No bones are
broken, but he’s bleeding internally. The room is a flurry of activity as he’s
prepped for surgery and whisked away. I fall back as the patient disappears
from my sight. He’s hurt pretty badly, that’s for sure, but there’s no reason
to believe that he won’t be OK. I look over at Penny and see that she’s
practically vibrating with excitement. Not exactly the most professional
response for the situation at hand.

“You’re looking awfully chipper,” I say, “I didn’t know you
were so fond of internal bleeding.”

She looks at me like I have three heads, at the least.
“Julia,” she says, “Are you serious?”

“As a rule,” I tell her.

“Did you honestly not recognize him?” she presses, taking me
by the shoulders.

“I think I may have seen him in an art museum somewhere.
Those marble statues all sort of blend together, don’t you think?”

“Julia!” Penny cries, “That was Slade Hale!”

“OK...” I say. The name doesn’t ring a single bell.

“Good god,” Penny says, throwing her hands up in the air, “I
forgot that you only listen to Joni Mitchell and musical theater soundtracks.”