Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 62430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
I clocked in and checked the whiteboard. Porter wasn’t on my schedule anymore. He had moved beyond needing a dedicated nurse and was close to release. When the next time his name appeared on my clipboard, it would be to say goodbye. The thought gave me pause, but that day wasn’t today. He was around somewhere.
I decided a quick visit couldn’t hurt, but I took pains to disguise my real intentions by peeking in on other patients first. Mrs. Berger was in her room, sitting straight up in bed. I breezed in, fluffing her pillow, pretending to be interested in how many calories were in the hot dog buns we served. I excused myself after a moment, moving on to Mr. Dyers’ room. As my luck would have it, he was there too, fumbling his way through a Stephen King novel. He had so many questions about the plot and the characters, I hunted through his bookshelf for a more appropriate title.
“Why don’t you try the Hardy Boys?” I replaced his massive novel with a much smaller one. “It has bigger print, and it’s easier to follow.”
He frowned, not sure if he wanted to accept the advice.
“This book has a lot of detail,” I explained patiently. “I just think you might have a better time if you paced yourself.”
“Okay.” He settled back with the new reading material, leaving me free to slip away.
Finally, I ducked into Porter’s room, knocking on the open door before entering. He wasn’t there. I tried not to feel put out. After the ten minutes I had spent pretending to be interested in other clients, I had hoped to be rewarded by his smile. I reminded myself, every patient was important, and I had maybe brightened two days by checking in on people, and that wasn’t time lost.
I went about my rounds, keeping an eye open for Porter. I was passing by the bay windows that circled the common area when I saw him. He was outside with a small group of other patients, pulling up weeds. My heart warmed to see him actively engaged. So soon, he would be returning to real life, where he mattered to his friends and the people he worked with. He was going to do just fine, I knew.
I inhaled, storing a picture of him in my memory. Before anyone could accuse me of staring, I moved on. I had rooms to visit and medicine to dispense. I would find him again later this afternoon, and then we could have a real chat. I suspected it would be one of the last times we would be together. Packing all my disappointment deep into my chest, I put a smile on my face and went to work.
11
PORTER
“Ihave a release date for you,” Gina said, hugging her clipboard to her chest.
I looked up from the landscape I was attempting to draw with pastels. I hated to be caught doing stupid drug rehab things when she was around. Why couldn’t she walk in on me in the gym, flexing my biceps? I wiped pastel dust on my pant leg and stood up.
“That’s good,” she said, examining the trees and the lazy river. I had been trying to copy the front of a puzzle box and had managed a fair approximation.
“I don’t think this is my calling,” I said ruefully.
“I heard that you de-escalated a situation with a resident.”
“Yeah, I talked a guy down from attacking one of the orderlies.” I shrugged as if it didn’t matter.
“We’re gonna miss you when you go,” she said, deliberately sidestepping her real feelings.
“But will you miss me?” I said before I could stop myself.
She blushed and turned away. “I thought you might like to know when your discharge date is.”
I was stunned. Of all the bold-faced questions I could have asked her, that was the most obvious, and she hadn’t said “no.” She hadn’t said anything. She didn’t try to cover it up with some platonic wheedling about how all patients were missed or how inappropriate my question had been. She didn’t cast the accusation aside as if it had no merit. She was going to miss me—I heard it in her inflection when she changed the topic. I was going to miss her too, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be released, but suddenly the game had changed.
I wasn’t a hopeless case anymore. I might actually mean something to Gina, and that was all that mattered. I had to stop acting like a head case, get my act together, and land on my feet. It was the only way I could prove to her that her affection wasn’t misplaced. I would show her that I could be functional and responsible. After that, I would show her that I could be gentle and sensual. I saw our future in a flash that almost sent me reeling.