One Day Soon (One Day Soon, #1)(2)

“I have them. I was working on them before I left last night,” I told her.

I smoothed out my shoulder-length brown hair wishing I had time for a cut. I knew my split ends were reaching a critical point.

I shuffled through the papers, knowing exactly where I had left them. To anyone else the haphazard piles would have seemed like disorder. But everything had its place and had been put there with care.

“How you can find anything on this desk, is beyond me,” Tess paused, squinting her overly large blue eyes at my blouse. “Did you know you have big stain on your shirt?” Tess asked, pointing at the noticeable wet spot.

I sighed, handing her the reports she asked for and picking up my coffee cup, a giant purple monstrosity with a chip on the rim. I grimaced at the cold liquid still inside. I must have forgotten to wash it out before leaving yesterday. Gross.

“I need coffee, you coming?” I asked, quickly walking out into the hallway, knowing chatty Tess would be hot on my heels. The woman had never met a conversation she couldn’t dominate.

“The coffee machine in the breakroom is broken. I had to go up to ICU and raid their supply,” Tess warned and I bit down on my frustrated groan.

Tess stared pointedly at my ruined shirt. “But seriously, Imogen, I have another blouse in my office if you want to change. It’s my spare in case I decide my day requires a wardrobe change.”

“What sort of day requires a wardrobe change?” I chuckled, amused. Tess, even though she was a bit overbearing, could be counted on to make me laugh.

Tess flipped her hair of her shoulder in an exaggerated gesture. “Oh you know, if the sun comes out, or I decide to eat with the doctors at lunch. Or if I need a quick pick me up.”

“Makes total sense,” I conceded.

“And you, my friend, need a day changer, stat.” Tess raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips.

I walked with Tess down the narrow corridor. The hospital was buzzing with its usual cacophony of emergency and chaos. It was draining. It was exhilarating.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I had been working as a social worker at Lupton Memorial Hospital for almost seven years. I had been hired just out of college and had been there ever since.

I was a firm believer in roots. In establishing them. In maintaining them. It was the same with my collections of knickknacks. I needed the scheduled, the familiar, in order to feel settled.

My ex-husband said I was stuck. That I was so deeply entrenched in my routine that I refused to live in the now. He had complained that I lacked spontaneity.

I hadn’t been hurt by his dismal assessment. I had embraced it.

My ex-husband had no idea what it was like to live a life of never-ending spontaneous moments, whether you wanted them or not.

In my experience, impulsivity had never been a good thing. Not for me anyway.

“I’m thinking of trying to pass it off as a new fashion trend. Think I can pull it off?” I asked, smoothing out my still damp shirt.

Tess smirked. “That is a definite no.”

I snorted and we both laughed. We got into the elevator, smiling greetings to hospital staff as we shared the tight, claustrophobic space on our way up to find caffeine.

“The ladies in the ER told me it was crazy in here last night,” Tess said as we got off on the fifth floor and headed towards the ICU staff’s breakroom. I pulled out my ID and swiped it through the card reader on the door before going inside.

A couple of nurses were eating while a doctor, still in scrubs, was sleeping, sitting upright in a chair in the corner.

“Oh yeah?” I was barely listening. My thoughts were on coffee. And the donuts piled on a plate in the middle of the table. The one with pink icing and sprinkles was calling my name.

“Apparently the police brought in some homeless guy they found downtown around four this morning. He had been beaten within an inch of his life. No ID or anything. Guess one of us will be the lucky one with that case today,” Tess griped, picking up the pretty pink donut I had been eyeballing and shoved it into her mouth.

I rinsed out my mug and quickly poured my coffee, annoyed that I was now donutless.

“Then there was the lady who came in because she accidentally super glued her hand to her boyfriend’s ball sack.”

“What?” I sputtered. I had been drinking my coffee and then I wasn’t. Another stain joined the first on the front of my shirt.

“You’re definitely going to need my extra blouse,” Tess observed, handing me a wad of napkins.

“Hang on a minute, you need to explain the super glue. And the ball sack. And the hand super glued to the ball sack.” I wiped the excess coffee from my shirt, but gave up in the end.

I balled up the napkins and tossed them in the trash. Tess grabbed another donut and took a giant bite.

“Amy from the ER said that the guy was trying to hold up his pants with one hand and hold a coat over his crotch with the other. Apparently the lady thought the glue was lube. Though I’m not sure how you could confuse the two.” Tess spoke with her mouth full, so the words were muffled.

“Sounds like pure Darwinism to me,” I snickered. “Nature was ensuring those winners didn’t breed and further pollute the gene pool.”

“We miss all the good stuff! I wish someone had taken pictures,” Tess whined.

I reached across the table for a packet of sugar and succeeded in knocking over the rest of my coffee.