Just One of the Guys(49)

“I row,” I state proudly.

“Really! Is that you I see down on the river every morning? About six o’clock?”

I rip off the cuff and put it around Ernesto’s biceps. “That’s me, buddy. You should try it. It’s fun.”

“I’d love to.”

“I’ll give you a lesson,” I say, squeezing the little bulb. “Now be quiet so I can do this.” I put the stethoscope in my ears and wait. “One-thirty-three over eighty-six, pal. Time to drop a few pounds and start exercising. I’ll expect you tomorrow morning at five-thirty, the little boathouse at the end of Bank Street.”

“So you’re the bossy type, I see,” Ernesto murmurs suggestively.

“And you like bossy?” I ask, grinning.

“I’m married. Of course I like bossy,” he answers, patting my arm. “You serious about the rowing? My wife’s been after me to exercise.”

“Sure! It’ll be fun.” I rip off the cuff with great flourish.

“Okay, good work, people!” Bev hollers. “Pack it in and get out of here. O’Neill, can I see you privately?”

My humor evaporates. I suspect I’m in trouble.

I’m right.

Bev waits till Pam shuts the door behind her. “O’Neill, I heard about your ride-along.”

I cringe, she sighs. “You sure you want to finish this class?” she asks gently.

“Look, I know the ride-along didn’t go that well,” I begin.

“Disastrous, O’Neill. Fucking disastrous.”

“Okay. Yes, disastrous.”

As part of the course, we’re required to tag along with an ambulance crew for a few hours. Ernesto went first and did fine. An asthmatic kid who needed to be transported. Come on. Piece of cake. Then Ursula went. Chest pain. Big deal. Then was my turn.

I try to explain now. “It was a pretty intense call, that’s all. My first time, Bev. I’ll do better next time.”

“Look, kid, not everyone is cut out for this kind of work. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I didn’t faint, though. That was good, I thought. Progress.”

Bev narrows her eyes. “You dropped the bag on her leg, Chastity. Her broken leg.”

I bow my head. “Right. That…that was…bad.”

I panicked. It’s not hard to understand why. We were summoned to an apartment building. At the bottom of the stairs was a broken plate, the pieces ominous and sinister. Then we saw the blood, a trail that led up the stairs. Apparently, the woman had taken a header down the stairs, ripped open her arm and broken her ankle. Then she crawled up the stairs and somehow managed to call 911.

I was hyperventilating before we even got to her. And then, come on! Muscle and tendon were bulging out of her blood-soaked arm, her ankle was turned at an impossible, freakish angle, practically rotated one hundred and eighty degrees. It was like something out of The Exorcist, for crying out loud! Of course I panicked! I’m not proud of it…I seem to recall saying helpful things like, “Holy Mary, Mother of God, it’s really bad!” and “Are they going to have to amputate?” And then, yes, the stupid medical bag, my one responsibility…it just slipped from my sweaty hands and landed on her leg.

My bank account is now over two hundred dollars lighter, since I’ve sent the poor woman flowers every day she’s been in the hospital, not to mention three boxes of German truffles and a fruit basket.

“I’m really trying,” I say to Bev. “To be honest, Bev, I’ve always freaked out at the sight of blood. I just want to be…” I pause. “You know my family, Bev,” I say with bleak honesty. “I just want to be—” a true O’Neill “—normal. A normal, helpful person.”

“All right,” Bev acquiesces at last. “We’ll see how it goes. I’m worried about your day in the E.R., though.”

She’s not the only one. My mouth goes chalky at the mere mention of it.

Shoulders drooping, I trudge down the hall to the elevators, press the button and wait. She’s probably right. It’s not like I’m going to do this for a living. I’m not cut out for this, my heroic family aside.

The elevator doors slide open, and there, dressed in scrubs, is Ryan Darling. “Chastity!” he says, looking up from the chart he’s reading. “How nice to see you!”

“Hi, Ryan,” I say, blushing. The man fills out scrubs nicely, ladies and gentlemen. I step in. “I guess you’re working.”

“Mm-hm,” he says, glancing back down at the chart. “And you? Are you looking for me?”

I smile. Ah, surgeons. “No. I’m taking an EMT class.”

“Really? That’s interesting. Let me know if I can be any help.” He smiles. “I’m looking forward to Friday.”

“Same here.” Once my nipple stain had been wrestled into submission the other night, Ryan and I had a very nice time. Very pleasant. He’d asked to see me again, dinner at Emo’s, and I accepted instantly.

The elevator stops again, and a middle-aged woman gets on. “My daughter just had a baby,” she announces, glowing.

“Congratulations!” I say. “Boy or girl?”

“A boy! Patrick! He’s so beautiful!” Her eyes fill with joyful tears, and I pat her arm and smile. Ryan says nothing, engrossed in his chart. Must be a tough case. The elevator stops again, and he glances up.