He smiled. He knew I was questioning what his he was really asking. I rolled my eyes.
We spent the rest of the morning bantering back and forth, with quite a bit of heavy flirting. We exchanged information about one another that was completely meaningless and yet I found it interesting and fun. There was a bit more to Turner Brooks than I’d previously given him credit for. He more than intrigued me. When we were making the long drive back to my house, I’d come to the conclusion that I may actually like him. Sure it made me uncomfortable, but that was merely because I hadn’t allowed myself to like or crush on anyone in years. Never saw the sense in it. But today, I opened myself up to the possibility of actually seeing where this could go. Granted, not if it meant putting my life at risk every time. But still, I liked him.
Once we made it to my door step, Turner looked down at me with wonder in his eyes.
“I want to go out with you again, Annabelle.”
I laughed. “Why do you look like it amazes you that you’re even asking me?”
His smile wowed me like it always did this close up. He was so beautiful it nearly knocked me off my feet.
“Because it does.”
“You’re an odd one, you know that?”
“Well, I could say the same about you. So what do you say? Another date?”
I tried to make him wait for an answer, I really did. But my answer came out faster than I planned.
“I’d love too. But wait . . .” I held up my finger. “I refuse to go anywhere that makes me jump off things, go faster than seventy miles per hour, or anything in general that I have to sign a paper stating I may die.”
He snickered. “It’ll be low key.”
I turned my head slightly to the side showing him I was skeptical. “Okay, sir. Well, be careful heading back home. And again, thank you for today.”
It got quiet. Like tense quiet. I was looking at him and he was looking at me. There was a moment in time where you knew he was going to kiss you, and you just had to be ready for it. I wasn’t ready, but I’d take it. Turner bent at the waist. I went up on my tippy toes. Just when I thought our mouths were going to meet, he went left, and I felt his warm lips on my cheek. My cheek? Squeezing my hand and releasing it, he stood at his full height and wished me a good day. When he was gone, I went to sit on my back porch to ponder the whole date. I was really starting to get a complex. Turner had kissed me three different times now and not a single one of them was on the mouth. Not a single one of them was full of the passion or ferocity that I pictured him giving the other women he pushed into the supply closets at work. Was he even in to me? Was I his type? Maybe he was looking at me like a buddy, or someone cool to hang out with. I never got the friendship vibe from him, so was I reading him wrong? Maybe. That kind of stung a little. I guess the next date we had I would have to try and pick up on his cues a little more. I didn’t want to invest too much more of myself in him if I was only friend material.
I waited for him to call and tell me what we were doing next.
IT WAS BEFORE MY FIRST twelve hour shift of the week and I decided to do something unplanned. I decided to stop in the NICU to check on the baby boy I’d helped deliver last week to see how he was doing. I hadn’t ever been in here other than to do a few hours of clinicals. A few monitors were beeping and I was looking around the room at all the incubators and infants fighting for their lives. I viewed this room like I did the Oncology floor. People fighting for their lives wasn’t my cup of tea. I was better off bringing lives into the world and sending them on their merry way. Not pushing them to take their next breath and watch the families cry or grieve over loss. I’d seen enough of that to last me a lifetime.
“Can I help you?” A tall blonde nurse approached me. She had gentle eyes and a soft voice.
“Um, yeah I was actually looking for a baby that I helped deliver last week that was brought down here.” Crap, I didn’t know his name. “He was unnamed when he left L&D, but the mother was an addict.” I wracked my brain for her name. “Adalyn March.” It occurred to me. “So it would be Baby March.”
Her tone became even softer. “Oh yes, he’s right over here.” She led me to a far corner of the room. “He’s quite the little fighter.”
As we approached, a baby small enough to fit in one of my hands was lying on his stomach, monitors attached to his frail body covered by almost transparent skin, a feeding tube in his nose that likely went directly to his stomach, and a breathing tube. It was almost painful to see. Such a small life fighting with everything he had, when he didn’t deserve to be brought into this already cruel world in such a harsh manner.
“Has his mom come to see him?”
She looked perplexed. “Unfortunately, Baby March was abandoned. The day she delivered and was put in a post-partum room, she walked out a few hours later and hasn’t been back. Nobody knows any contact information, and she never asked any questions about him before she left.”
My hand automatically went up to my mouth. I felt like I wanted to be sick. How could a mother carry an infant, give birth, and just abandon it? Doesn’t matter that she didn’t carry him to term. He was her child. He would have loved her unconditionally and expected nothing in return other than what she could offer him. I just couldn’t understand it.
The nurse, whom I’d learned was named Cassie, told me the baby’s stats and what the doctor was expecting from him over the next couple of days. When babies came down here to NICU, they were usually checked in on every hour. They were given short term goals because that’s what the staff had to rely on. Baby steps, if you will. Anything past that was just asking for too much too soon.