Perfectly Adequate(4)

My eyes see stars and burn with those unavoidable tears that always spring out the instant someone rams you in the nose. I look at my hand.

No blood.

I touch my nose again.

No blood.

Damn! That hurt like a motherfucker. How is there no blood? I actually wish blood would gush from my nose so my reaction that’s silenced the area around us might feel a bit more justified.

Dr. Hawkins grimaces, pulling the wet material away from his skin while he inspects my non-bleeding nose. I grab several napkins as does the lady behind the coffee counter, and we hand them to him to blot the coffee. Then I grab some more napkins and blow my nose really hard.

No blood!

I’ve never wanted to bleed so badly in my life.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry. I had no idea you were so close to me.”

That’s because I was sniffing you.

I laugh at my own thoughts. How appropriate that I got elbowed in the nose for sniffing him.

“Is it bleeding?” He keeps his focus on me.

The older woman behind the counter hands him more napkins. “Are you okay, Doctor? That had to burn your skin.”

He gives her a polite nod, taking the extra napkins.

“I’m …” I shake off his question while removing the wad of napkins from my nose and showing him the clear mucous on it. “There’s no blood. See?”

The barista grimaces. I take her cue and dispose of the napkins. Maybe showing my snot is not the right approach.

“But yeah … no … I mean good. I’m good. Your ass is probably scorched from that coffee. Hope you have on thick briefs.” I do my best to show my concern for his wellbeing instead of focusing on my complete embarrassment and lack of blood coming out of my nose.

“It’s just skin.” He wipes his leg as the barista cleans the mess on the floor so the line can keep moving.

I place a five on the counter for my coffee.

“Let me get you another cup of coffee.”

“What?” I shake my head so hard it hurts my brain. “Let me pay for your scrubs. Your medical bills for treating your burns. New briefs. Shoes. Everything! Let me pay for everything.”

He laughs in spite of the slight grimace on his face as he moves forward several steps. “I’m good. Really, Dorothy. I’d better get cleaned up and have someone take a peek at my backside.”

“Want me to take a look?”

He lifts an eyebrow. “You’re a patient transporter.”

“Yes. And a nursing student. But I have my CNA license, and I was an EMT for a while. Also, I listened to a podcast a few months back on cutting-edge burn treatments that can prevent permanent nerve damage, reduce scarring by sixty-three percent, and cut recovery time in half.”

Dr. Hawkins blinks for several seconds, eyes narrowed a bit. “Dr. Hathaway is head of the burn unit. I think I’ll have her take a quick look.”

“Your ex-wife?” I’m certain the whole cafeteria hears me, but his suggestion strikes me as odd. I mean … all the rumors about his marriage. His wife leaving him.

Wrinkles form along his forehead.

Yes, I know everything about him because the sexiest doctor in the hospital getting a divorce was the hottest topic for months. The divorce saga settled down, but he remains a hot topic.

“She is. Why?” he says slowly.

“I realize she’s a doctor, but it has to be weird letting your ex-wife see your naked ass … butt … buttocks … gluteus.” I smile, my go-to when things get really awkward—which happens way too often.

His thick eyebrows dip. “She’s seen it a few times before.” An odd grin plays along his lips.

I’m not sure if I amuse him or if it excites him to think about his ex being forced to look at his ass again, a reminder of what she gave up. Sucking my top lip between my teeth, I nod several times. “Okay. But make sure she listened to that podcast. I can send her the link if she hasn’t heard it yet. But I’m sure she knows all about it. She’s brilliant and my favorite boss bitch in the whole hospital.”

“Dorothy …” He scratches his chin, lips corkscrewed to the side.

“I mean bitch in a really good way. Take charge. No nonsense. Get shit done.”

Dr. Julie Hathaway is my idol in so many ways, but I stop short of making that confession. Real progress on my part. “Yes?” I whisper.

He hands me his cup of coffee. Pressing his finger to the bottom of my chin, he lifts it, guiding my head to one side and then the other side, gaze focused on my nose. Then he gently pinches my nose while pressing the surrounding area with his other hand. It’s a bit sore, but not broken … or bleeding. Or scorched from hot coffee.

Ugh …

It’s not that I’m not concerned about my nose. I am. This isn’t my first nose injury. By now I could have irreversible damage to structures and tissues in my nose. I can’t even think about the long-term problems I might experience, like stuffiness and breathing issues or sinus, bone, and other nose infections. This could be really bad for me.

“Sorry about your nose.” He releases my chin and smiles before heading toward the elevators.

“Your coffee!” I hold it up.

“Keep it.” He presses the up button.

*

Elijah

Julie knew she wanted to be a plastic surgeon from the moment her younger brother had surgery on his cleft lip. She knew she wanted a successful career as a doctor. She knew she wanted to change lives by giving kids confidence again. I, on the other hand, floundered around, unsure of a specialty, unsure of where I wanted to live and work, unsure about if and when we should start a family.