After Hours (InterMix)(70)

“Do you know what he did to get arrested?”

“Dr. Morris will debrief you, before the interview.”

“Oh, sure. Okay.”

“You’ll only be in there to observe, get a sense of how the admission process works here. Just be quiet and take notes if you want, and you’ll probably be ignored. If your presence is upsetting to the patient, you’ll simply be asked to leave.”

“Right.”

“If I were you, I’d pay close attention and be prepared to give your diagnosis and treatment plan to Dr. Morris once the patient has left.”

My eyes went wide. “Uh . . .”

Dennis smiled. “Don’t worry—you’ll probably get it wrong. Way wrong. But then Dr. Morris can walk you through his own interpretations of the patient’s symptoms. Give you some insight into how we come up with the pharma regimens we do, how we choose roommates, how we predict length of stay and so forth.”

“Okay. That sounds very interesting.” And intimidating. What if I told Dr. Morris I thought the guy was suicidal and should be prescribed antidepressants, but it turned out he was just lethargic from a Haldol dosage or something?

“Don’t worry. It’s not a test, just an opportunity to learn. Just don’t let any of those psychiatrists talk you into abandoning nursing in favor of some fancy white coat.”

Yeah, right. Me and what med school tuition? “Only if it’s a straightjacket,” I countered with that patented Starling sarcasm, and I took Dennis’s cue, getting to my feet. His outstretched hand invited me to precede him through the door.

He checked his watch. “Coffee time, methinks. The admission interview’s scheduled for nine thirty, so go ahead with your usual rounds until nine, then head to Dr. Morris’s office on S1 and he’ll prep you.”

We got to hand-off a minute late, but I figured I wasn’t busted, since I was walking in with the ward supervisor.

I spotted Kelly across the circle of staff, his cold eyes fixed on one of the overnight doctors, who was rattling through recent developments. Kelly’s arms were crossed over his chest as always, and I stole glances at the shapes of his shoulders and biceps, trying to square this man with the one I’d spent the past couple of days with. All this gray calm versus the frantic, flushed body that had owned mine on the floor, the couch, in his bed. That cool, unwavering expression versus the way he’d averted his eyes when he’d told me about his biological father.

He didn’t look at me once during the meeting. I hoped he wasn’t going to overcompensate for our unprofessional extracurricular activities by ignoring me from now on. Frankly, I’d been hoping we might share a subtle, knowing glance or two. Nothing seedy enough to distract me from my job, but something.

What I got was a pleasant, neutral, “Good morning,” as the meeting disbanded.

“Morning, Kelly.”

“Enjoy your days off?”

I bit back my smile. “Yes, thanks. You?”

“Yup.”

“Do anything special?”

“Oh, you know. Some work around the house.”

Yes, indeed. Nailing, drilling, screwing.

“Sounds productive,” I said, and we broke away. Kelly headed to the residents’ quarters, I for the nurses’ booth.

That little exchange kept me feeling all mischievous and cheerful through morning meds, and even Lonnie couldn’t put a crimp in my mood.

“Your hair looks different, kid.”

“It shouldn’t. I didn’t do anything special, except get rained on.” That and having it fisted and pulled and mashed into Kelly’s pillow.

“It’s different. I liked it better before,” Lonnie announced, then downed his cup of pills like a shot of bourbon and headed for the dining room.

The morning was quiet—so quiet I could hear the caffeine ticking through my veins to the exact rhythm of my anxiety. At two minutes of nine I headed down to S1 for my special assignment.

Dr. Morris was the most senior psychiatrist in our building; late forties, an intimidating, decisive type, with a crisp and competent air. He would’ve been handsome, with his dignified, prematurely silver hair and pale blue eyes, except I found him impossible to relax around. I’d only interacted with him during hand-off meetings, where he spoke quickly and clearly, and nodded with his gaze on the ground as he listened to everyone else’s reports. But Jenny respected him, and she was a tough crowd when it came to the doctors, so I suspected he knew his stuff.