Sometimes, I have to go up to the ICU, the ward I avoid as much as possible; if no other porter is available to go, though, I don’t have any choice. I can’t remember my time in ICU, but the tone of the machines drags me back into the fog of those months, and then the dizziness starts. Today my attempt to avoid going fails and I’m here. The familiar sickly hospital smell turns my stomach, and every muscle in my body tenses as I walk through the double-doors.
A blonde guy sits at the nurses’ station. I know most of the staff and he’s either new or from an agency. He doesn’t look much like a nurse. I know guys are nurses, too, but he fails to exude nurse-like calm. Heavy brow knitted, the guy taps the keyboard while chewing on a pen. The unusually-intense blue of his eyes catches my attention; the blonde hair falling into his eyes as he leans forward is not as blonde as mine, but, like me, he’s paler than most people.
Swearing, he drops the pen and looks up at me, eyes reddened by tiredness. “Yes?” he snaps.
Taken aback, I return his scowl. “Just brought some files.” I slap them onto the counter of the nurses’ station.
“Why are you giving them to me?”
I stare at the name badge pinned on the front of his shirt. He’s wearing a black hoodie over his uniform, which is odd because it’s not cold in here.
“Well, Finn, you’re the one sitting here.”
“Yeah, but I don’t know what the hell I’m doing!” He grabs the nearest phone and smacks the keypad. “The computer’s frozen again! And is anyone else coming on shift soon?” I feel sorry for the person on the other end of the phone.
I could tell him I can help with the computer but decide against it. He’s rude; plus, I don’t want to stay in ICU a moment longer than I need to be here. Squeaking footsteps from behind herald the arrival of someone else, and I turn to see a nurse walking toward us. Even in a hospital uniform, Chloe looks the model of elegance in posture and appearance, but without the haughty attitude to match. Pushing the unruly strand of hair from my face…the strand that always escapes my ponytail—I envy her ability to look naturally beautiful without trying.
“Hi, Rose,” she smiles.
Chloe was one of my nurses when I was in ICU. Again, I don’t remember but I don’t want to.
“Hey. I think Finn here has issues.” He looks at me sharply, and I give him a saccharin smile, hoping he notices the double meaning of my words.
“What’s up, Finn?” asks Chloe.
“System’s down again.”
Chloe slides behind the counter, and Finn wheels his chair out of the way. She leans over Finn, silky-brown ponytail falling forward as she taps the keyboard. Instead of watching Chloe, Finn studies me silently for a few moments, not as though he’s checking me out, but as if I’m intruding. I don’t bother holding his gaze; the clock above indicates it’s finally time for the end of my shift. I say goodbye to Chloe and ignore Finn.
***
One thing I really should have checked before agreeing to live in the house was the bus route. Yes, there’s a bus stop a few hundred metres from the front door, but the bus from the hospital only stops there once every three hours. Most buses stop at the bottom of the steep hill.
I consider this as I huff my way up the road. I guess I won’t need any workouts at the gym if I do this every day. My bag gets heavier with each step, and with burning calf muscles and a sense of triumph, I reach the front door.
“Hello!” I call.
Nobody sits in the popular spot on the sofa by the TV, so I dump my bag on the floor and wander to the kitchen. Washed dishes are stacked neatly on a wooden drainer and the table is wiped clean, but no one is around.
Grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl, I bite into it and climb the steep stairs with my aching legs. At the top of the first set, I pause and lean against the wall. God, I’m unfit. A door opens, the room next to the one I think is Alek’s, and a girl walks out. Surprised eyes reflect my own confusion. I’ve never seen her before, and I’ve lived here two weeks.
I tense. Is she robbing the house? She doesn’t look like someone who has broken in. But what would someone who robs houses look like? I scan her for a knife or similar weapon, but she wrings her shaking hands together. Empty. I hazard a guess she’s my age, but her make-up free, pale face could be any age between twelve and twenty. The girl’s emerald green eyes and curled red hair draw my attention. She’s pretty in an unusual way. Alek’s girlfriend?
“Hi,” I say and smile.
The girl steps toward me and I step back, unsure of what she’s going to do. She doesn’t speak.
“I’m Rose.”
The front door bangs open and closed; the girl’s eyes grow to the size of saucers, and she runs past me down the stairs. I debate whether to keep going to my room or follow her. The apple drips onto my hand and I suck the juice off as I follow her down.
At the bottom of the stairs, I slam straight into Alek’s hard chest, smothered by his jacket and a scent of leather and sharp spice. “Sorry,” I mutter and pull back.
Alek’s foot rests on the bottom stair, hand on the wooden stair rail as he pauses and studies my face. “What’s the hurry?”
“None, I wanted to see if the girl was okay.”
He frowns at me. “What girl?”