Shiraz (2 page)

I stepped into the elevator, pushed
“1” and stood with my back to the opposite corner, pushing my chest
out as I leaned back with my head up against the glass mirror. I
pulled out my phone from my right side pants pocket, and opened the
Starbucks app ready to pull up my coupon. I needed two more drinks
to get a free one, and at the rate I was going, I would be cashing
that out as soon as tomorrow’s shift started.

I wasn’t the only one in need of
coffee as the line stood five people deep when I turned the corner,
just past the information desk centered in the lobby. I didn’t
smoke, so this caffeine ritual was the equivalent of a cigarette
break, and appeared to be just as unhealthy.  

As I waited for the line to shorten I
jumped out of the app checking a backlog of unanswered messages.
Antonio texted me about seeing a band tomorrow night, which could
be fun. My mom said I work too much, and we all know she’s right.
Brandon had texted me about three hours ago. I felt bad as I
ignored it earlier, but I just didn’t feel like replying. After
what I overheard him saying to James earlier I’m not sure I want to
respond at all.

“
How’s your
day?”

I unwillingly replied, “Long. Getting
coffee. How are you doing?”

I shifted forward, vaguely aware of my
spot in line as I thought about Brandon. He was a property
inspector, so he didn’t exactly have a regular schedule either.
Living together was the only guarantee that we would see each other
on a daily basis, and even that's debatable.  

My phone vibrated.

“
Miss you…I have something
long for you when you get back”

Uninterested, I let out a half grin.
He had the day off, and I was hoping that the stars would align and
we could spend the day in bed . . .or on the floor, the kitchen
table, or against the refrigerator. It had been so long since we
fucked, I was tempted to find an unconscious patient’s room, lock
the door, and let Brandon in through the window. In the bedroom is
where all of our problems went away, so hopefully we can get a run
in tonight.

I started typing while moving up to
another spot in line.

“
Are you still going to be
up? Are you going to save that for me?”

I hit “send” and put my phone back
into my right pants pocket. My mind was veering away from the
hospital and back into bed with him, wishing his fingertips would
squeeze my nipples as I nibbled on his neck.  

My phone buzzed again. He had sent a
photo. It was our bed, the dark blue satin sheets struggling to
show up with the low lighting. I couldn’t see anything else,
certainly not Brandon, or any part of him . . . oh, there it
was.

“
Sorry babe I couldn't
wait lol,” he said.

I sighed. I didn’t notice the pearly
wet stain near the foot of the bed until now, showing

me that Brandon definitely was not
saving anything for me. That picture was pretty much a summary of
our situation right now; another missed opportunity not cuddling in
the sheets.  

I punched in a response, “You are
going make it up to me later, right?”  

I closed my messenger and clicked open
my Starbucks app again, ready to ask for a shot of vodka in
accompany with the caffeine. I ordered my Venti Red Eye, still
disappointed over Brandon’s ill-timed money shot. I would have
loved to yank my scrubs down and spread my lips for him to see, but
what was the point now? I would be lucky if he was even awake when
I got home. Hopefully he’d be ready to go down on me after I
showered.

My phone buzzed one more
time.

“
Anything for you babe,
I’m always ready.”

I took my supercharged
coffee with me, thanking the red-headed cashier with a forced a
smile. “
Brandon always meant
well”
, I repeated to myself as I hit the
elevator call button, ready to head back upstairs to whatever
catheters and bedpans were waiting for me.

Pulling out my badge to re-enter my
unit, I recognized the shriek of laughter coming from my favorite
coworker in the entire hospital, which also happens to be my best
friend. Turning around, I nearly tipped my coffee all over the
scrubs of Antonio, our resident nurse who was as much caring, as he
was animated. Antonio had a complexion I would have murdered
someone for; his face always glistened even with the horrid
lighting of the unit no matter what time of day it was, or how long
his shift had lasted. He was physically incapable of not touching
you for emphasis during conversation, which made it all the more
funny. Every workplace needed an Antonio, and if you didn’t enjoy
explicit descriptions of his latest conquests in the bedroom,
run!

“
Hey Mindaaaaaaaay!” he
squealed in my ear as he greeted me. I never liked anyone
shortening Melinda, and I don’t know how the hell he ever turned it
into “Minday,” but this guy got away with it. While hugging me,
“How’s it going today?”

Clutching his arm with one hand and
gripping my coffee in the other I returned his hug as much as I
could, “Eh, I’m here when I wasn’t supposed to be. Another one of
those days.”

I growled as I put on a flustered
face.

“
I was just telling the
girls about the concert tomorrow night, didn’t you get my
text?”

His heavy spanish accent made it
difficult to understand as you had to really focus on what he was
saying. Whenever he had a y-word it was usually pronounced like a
j-word. I chuckled at it every time.

Oops, “Sorry, I must have missed that
one . . . who is playing?”

“
My one good friend I met
at the gay bar, but she’s not gay. They used to play there all the
time, they grew such a fan base they got the chance to travel the
world. They’re called Broken Griffin! Had you have listened to the
songs I posted on your page we wouldn’t be having this conversation
right now, missy!”

Another oops. “Sorry, Antonio, you
know how easily distracted I get . . . and what kind of name is
Broken Griffin?”

Antonio’s brown eyes went wide. I held
in a laugh that tried to fight its way out. Why is Antonio such a
character?

“
You still haven’t heard
of them? They are one of the most popular soft rock bands to come
out of France. They sell out stadiums the moment their tour tickets
goes on sale. They are playing at The Avalon this week, god Minday
you’re killing me!” He gave me a gentle shove. Leave it to me to
work with a gay Spaniard who loves rock. How often does that ever
happen, right?

Antonio lets a mischievous expression
infiltrate his face. “Honey, long-haired cuties that the heaven
gods themselves crafted singing about destruction of emotion with a
full orchestra backing them up? I’m filling up my scrubs just
thinking about it! And don’t get me started on the boys that come
see these shows,” He moans as he licks his lips just to make sure I
was getting the picture.

“
I really don’t know.
After what I overheard Brandon telling Jam--”

“
What did he say?” Antonio
asked as he leaned into my face.

Checking the clock on my phone to make
sure I had enough time, “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. So
yesterday I woke up when I heard Brandon in the kitchen with James
on speaker. I was listening to their conversation because James had
asked how are things going with us, and Brandon went on a spiel of
how great things are going, and that he’s going to propose to me on
Monday.”

Antonio screamed and galloped for joy
while smacking my arm. I tried to get him to calm down as we are
still at work. He stops and looks at me with a straight face,
“What’s the problem now?”

“
I . . . I don’t know if I
want to get married. I don’t think I’m ready.”

“
Minday, I think the two
of you are great together, very compatible, you two care for each
other, all that shit, but you’re the problem in this relationship.
You’ve always been stubborn; you push yourself to work hard to
please everyone at the hospital, not realizing what you have at
home. You never just lay back and have a good time. That’s not
healthy.”

I was realizing I didn’t have a lot of
ammo for this argument.  “You’re right. I’ve just been with
him so long it doesn’t feel the same anymore. I feel old and
married, and I haven’t even pushed out a kid yet.”

“
Look, get your mind off
of things and come out with me tomorrow. You need one last good
weekend before you make your decision on whether or not you’re
going to marry the guy,”  he was squeezing me again.
Apparently he took my facial expression as a definite yes, and as
much as a night out would do me right, I still had Brandon and his
last line on my mind.  

Antonio released his grip as his pager
went off. He unclipped it from his waist and said “Got to run,
sweetie, I expect you to text me first thing tomorrow on what time
I should come get you!” He answered his phone with a “Hi Doctor” in
an unexpected business-like tone, effectively shoving his inner
animal back in its cage for the sake of the phone call.

I took another sip of my drink, now
cooled off enough to actually enjoy. “Did I miss anything,
Erin?”

The unit clerk behind the desk barely
looked up from the trivia game on her phone.  “Lady in room
seventeen pulled out her IV again.”

I nodded, ready for what might be a
crime scene waiting for me in Mrs. Scherzinger’s room. She had
dementia clouding her mind, which fogged all memories she may have
still been clinging onto. Still sipping my drink I edged into her
solo room and set my cup on the table reserved for family members,
which she sadly did not have. I doubted Mrs. Scherzinger would be
leaving this hospital anytime soon, so I tried to make her as
comfortable as possible, even if she never remembered who I
was.

“
What happened, Mrs.
Scherzinger?”

A nurse’s aide whose name I can never
remember was wiping blood from the patient’s arm, already about
eighty percent clean. I sent the aide away to continue the job
myself. I had developed a hell of a strong stomach ever since
nursing school, and I am proud to say I no longer have to worry
about the sight of blood making me queasy and then making a larger
mess after throwing up on it. The only thing I still have yet to
get used to is watching delightful people lose themselves without
hope that they’d ever get back to their normal state.

“
I couldn’t find the
remote,” said Mrs. Scherzinger. “I think it fell under the sofa,
can you help me?”

“
I would be happy to, as
soon as I make sure you aren’t still bleeding.” I spoke to her in a
normal, adult tone. I fucking hate people who speak down to the
elderly patients and talked to them like children.

“
My hip hurts and I have
trouble bending, so I didn’t look myself,” she answered with a hint
of sadness.

“
Don’t you worry about
that.”  I threw the alcohol wipes I used on her arm into the
hazmat bin, and got down on one knee, playing along with wherever
she was in her head. “I don’t think I see it, are you sure it went
under the sofa?”

“
Maybe I left it in the
kitchen . . . I can look later. Thank you, dear.” This old woman
had only been awake for an hour and already sounded like she had
gone a week without so much as a catnap. “I’ll just tell my husband
to grab it, he’s good for that.”

I chuckled.  “How long have you
been married?”

“
Sixty-three years next
month. Time flies when you’re in love!”

I looked at both of her wrinkled hands
which sat pretty without rings. Did her husband pass already? Was
she ever even married?  

“
He sounds like a keeper,
Mrs. Scherzinger.” I said looking at the soft wrinkly skin that
surrounded her bright blue eyes. Her hair puffed high above her
head, like a cotton ball, which she faithfully combed every night
and morning.

“
Oh, he’s a pain in my
ass. Always leaving dirty plates in the empty sink, leaving it for
me to clean. Now that I think about it, that’s probably how the
remote fell. I bet you he dropped it out of his hand while he was
nodding off in front of the T.V.”

Now I really laughed. “How are you
feeling right now? Pain anywhere?”

She fell silent for a moment. “No . .
. I’ll be okay. I think I need to lie down again, it’s been a long
day.”

“
Okay . . . you get some
more rest, and you know just to push that button up by your head if
you need anything. I’m always nearby.”

Reaching for the clipboard hanging
from the hook attached to the feeding pump, by the time I glanced
back at her she had already fell back asleep. I recorded her vitals
one last time while I was in the room, ready to settle into routine
for the next few hours. I didn’t want to just fuck Brandon now . .
. I wanted to feel his arms around me right after.

11:01 PM.  One minute overdue in
this place.

The parking garage was full of fresh
faces pouring out of cars headed in the opposite direction ready to
start their night of work. With the remote, I unlocked my Camry and
ducked inside, sliding the key into the ignition. My red car had no
problems since I bought it last year, and the fact that the
hospital was only ten minutes from our apartment meant I wasn’t
straining anything.