âAri, did you get the I.V. set up in room 3?â Doctor Diaz asks behind one of the nursesâ desks in the Emergency Room of the Army Hospital. Iâm three months in and Iâve learned so much. Iâve saved and helped so many of our military men and women and I feel like Iâm destined to do this for the rest of my life.
âOh, no sorry, I was just finishing giving medications to the patient in room nine. Iâll do that right now doctor.â Dr. Diaz half smiles at me before looking back down at his clipboard, writing.
Tonight is extremely busy. A training exercise went wrong and we have a lot of military men from all branches coming in with horrible injuries.
I grab the IV supplies before heading into the room. I grab the patientâs chart and get information before I step in. The doors in the ER to each room are glass see-through doors. I stand there in front of them reading the doctorâs directions. Then I look up to see the patientâs last name on the top right of the paper and it looks familiar.
âAri Cakes? Is that you?â
Shane. His voice makes me freeze.
My heart drops and my legs almost go weak underneath me. My abusive ex-boyfriend is here.
I look up from the chart and I feel like I canât breathe for a second. Hatred pours into my heart, and I take in a deep breath before I walk over next to him.
I try not to make eye contact and keep it professional as I always do with other patients. As if he wasnât someone I deeply cared about once. As if I didnât donât know him personally. Like heâs somebody I used to know.
âMr. Mitchell, Iâll be administering your I.V.â My voice is monotone.
After I finish doing the IV, Iâll be asking one of my co-workers to switch with me. Thereâs no way Iâll spend one more minute next to Shane.
I ignore his presence to my right as I set up the IV supplies. Afterward, I grab the room computer and plug in my notes.
âYou know Iâve never stopped loving you. Iâm sorry about the night at El Devine. I just canât help myself when Iâm around you.â I bite down hard on my jaw, my breathing more rapid now.
âHow the fuck do you know Rider, by the way? Is he your boyfriend now?â My heart flutters when I hear Dannyâs name.
âMy relationship status in general, is of no concern to you.â I snap.
Shane laughs.
âGod Damn, you look good in scrubs.â
He doesnât get a reaction out of me even though I feel his eyes burning into me, in my peripheral vision. I continue typing away.
I sigh and close my notes. I finish up and walk over efficiently and grab his arm gently to clean an area on his arm with alcohol, preparing the needle to pierce. Shane came in with a horrible injury to his left arm. His arm is badly bruised and cut open. Heâs being evaluated for broken bones. Blood seeps through his bandages and heâs going to need them replaced as soon as possible. I make a mental note for my coworker that will be taking over for me.
I set up the IV and then quickly tape it to his arm. All the meanwhile, Shane looks at me, his eyes never leaving my face.
âSorry to hear about Paul. I never got to tell youâ¦
â Shane says with sarcasm. He hits a nerve inside of me and Iâm heated with wrath. I finally give him the attention he wants. My head turns towards him so fast, hair from my ponytail hits my cheek on the other side. Iâm glaring at him. This jerk is smiling while saying Paulâs name. I quickly feel the rage inside of me. The fact that he mentions my brotherâs name has me boiling. His smile is wicked. He always hated my brother.
âDonât ever say Paulâs name again,â I whisper angrily at him. Shane tilts his head to the side forcing a sarcastic frown, mocking me. I scoot the chair Iâm sitting on away from him, the chair makes a loud squeak from pushing so hard on it. I grab the leftover empty packaging from the IV supplies and dispose of it.
âBig brother canât protect you now. He canât come between us anymoreâ¦â Shane calls over my head.
Still, I ignore him, with my back turned and I head towards the doors. The asshole is happy my brother died. I feel tears sting my eyes and they start flowing down, hard out of anger. I truly just want to run away and go back home. But my homeâs just a little room now, in the barracks that the military provided for me.
âHey, Ari, whatâs wrong?â Iâm in the hallway walking back to the nursesâ desk when one of my coworkers stops me. She stops me with her hands on both of my arms, consoling me.
I sniffle and rub my hand on my nose to prevent any snot from coming out caused by ugly crying.
âThe patient in room 3 is just giving me a hard time, can you take over for me, please, Lori? He needs new bandages by the way.â I beg as the tears keep flowing.
âOf course, anything you need.â She sounds concerned. She rubs my arm gently. Sheâs one of the nicer coworkers I have. Any other person I work with would just tell me to suck it up in this kind of situation.
âJust take over for me in Room 5. I was just in there, but I needed to get supplies for him. Itâs a bad open wound on his back, heâs going to need stitches.â
âYou got it. Iâm just going to get myself cleaned up first and then head in.â She nods and I head straight for the restroom. It doesnât take me long to find it and I lock the door behind me. I look in the mirror and Iâm horrified by my reflection. A bit of my mascara is rubbed off. My eyes and cheeks are red. I grab the tissues in the restroom and clean myself up, trying my best to remove the black mascara smudges under my eyes.
I canât believe Shaneâs here. Heâs on deployment which means he might be here for a while.
I grip the sink with both of my hands and look at myself before going back out. I still look like Iâve been crying but itâll do for now. I look at the ceiling still gripping the sink, leaning on it. I want to cry again as the stress is just too much for me sometimes. I take in a deep breath.
I wonder what Paul would say to me at this moment. He would definitely encourage me and I can hear my brotherâs voice in my head as if heâs right here next to me. I look at my reflection and I picture him behind me talking to me through the mirror. I imagine him in his uniform, and I swear I can see him. His brown hair is carefully brushed to the side as it always used to be and the dimples on his cheeks are vividly present in the mirror.
I smile and the ghost of him disappears. I take another deep breath in and walk outside after turning the restroom light off. I head straight for the stitching supplies I need to give to the patient in room 9. I grab my chart, in my other hand, and I read the patientâs name, before going in as I always do. I always get nervous when I have to do stitches, I shrug my shoulders and sigh but then my heart skips a beat when I see the Devilâs name.
I gasp.