After Hours (InterMix)(21)
“By herself she’s not that bad. But she falls for the most horrible guys. I think part of her enjoys the drama, like she’s in her own reality show. But she’s got a son now, you know? You don’t get to star in your own show when there’s a kid around.”
“So what, you’re just going to babysit her until your nephew’s safely off to college?”
I slumped, exhausted by the thought. “I dunno. I just know it’s too soon to disentangle myself. I lost my grandma this winter and my mom’s barely in the picture, so Amber’s my only close family, really. And vice versa. I know it sounds codependent. I know it is codependent . . .”
“You’re just doing your best,” he offered.
“Yeah. Yeah, I hope so.”
“That’s all any of us can ever do. And a lot of us don’t even do that.”
As depressing as Kelly’s wisdom was, it cheered me. I was doing my best. That was all anybody could do.
“What do you think you’d be doing, if you didn’t have your sister to worry about?”
“Jeez, I dunno. I wound up here, because of her moving, and I wound up in nursing because of my grandma. God, it’s so depressing to think about it that way.”
Kelly shrugged. “I wound up here because my old man was a raging drunk. We’re all just pinballs, getting bonked around wherever our upbringings kick us.”
“So much for free will.”
“Free will’s whatever you do when you punch out for the night.”
“Then my free will’s got narcolepsy,” I said, and as if illustrating my point, a massive yawn unfurled from my lungs.
“You’ll adjust. And tomorrow you get to sleep in.”
I nodded. “Until ten, when I have to go back to wrestling practice.”
He cracked a smile, cranking my internal temperature up a few degrees. “I went easy on you today. Tomorrow and Thursday, I won’t f*ck around.”
“Oh, yay.”
“You’re good, though.”
“At what? Restraints?”
He nodded. “A natural.”
“Yeah, right. You had me in a headlock for at least three minutes and I couldn’t even budge your stupid arm. And don’t you have tomorrow off?”
Another nod. “We’re on the same rotation. But I’ll be in, just for the morning. The overtime’s always appreciated. And it’s a piece of cake teaching restraints, knowing you debutantes won’t pull a pen out of someplace and stab me in the eye.”
I sipped my pop. “Only if you give me a good reason to.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Well, I’ll look forward to that,” I said snidely, and finished my burger and downed the last of my drink. Kelly did the same, and we dropped off our trays in the kitchen and thanked Roland.
“Back to the fray,” Kelly said as we signed in downstairs. He wrote spec obs Don beside his name, and I couldn’t be sure if I was disappointed or relieved that I might not see him again that afternoon.
The second half of my shift proved quiet, borderline boring. Having Kelly as a distraction wouldn’t have gone astray.
As a psych professional you have to pay attention constantly, not just for signs of danger, but while taking a zillion sets of vitals, in making notes in the right files, doling out the right meds in the right dosages at the right times, making sure the right patient actually swallows them . . . Nothing dynamic, but I swear the sheer constancy with which you have to be alert is as tiring as any physical chore. By the time dinner hour was over and we met with the next shift for the hand-off meeting, I felt like I must be dreaming. I staggered down the stairwell on aching feet.
I wiped my name off the duties board and ran into Jenny while I was changing.
“Got plans tonight?” she asked, dialing her combination lock.
“No, none at all. Just finish unpacking and pass out.”
“You’re more than welcome to come along to a little party across the road. Retirement bash for one of the veteran RNs in our geriatric ward. Free eats. You know where the transitional residence is?”
“Yeah.” I stripped off my scrubs, not feeling compelled to tell her I was in fact living there for the time being.
“You should come. Get off campus, enjoy a drink. I’ll introduce you around to some people from the other departments.”
I wouldn’t have minded meeting the geriatric staff. I had experience with that, after all, and wouldn’t say no if a chance to transfer out of the locked ward should present itself.