He nodded again, indignant. “Yeah, yeah, all right.”
“See you at home.”
Josh’s bottom lip trembled for a moment, and then he sniffed, stood, and shook it off.
We all had our reasons for doing this kind of work. Josh’s compassion ran deeper than even he knew. He didn’t do it for the money or the glory. We had shitty hours and even shittier pay, but at the end of the day, Josh could go to bed knowing he had helped someone, and for him, there were few things more important than that.
The women’s locker room was decorated in cheap red and green decorations. Most of the lockers bore pictures of the nurses’ children or nieces and nephews. Mine was empty but for one black and white photo of Josh and me at Quinn’s mom’s house on Thanksgiving. I walked past the lockers and into the bathroom, pulling my scrub top over my head and tossing it into the red biohazard box.
In the mirror, I noticed dark spatters and smears on my face, and the blood that had bled through to my sports bra.
My eyes stared back at me, dull green with dark circles underneath. Pieces of blonde hair had fallen from my ponytail. The rest of the staff was a mess, too. We had all worked hard the last hour to save that boy, but sometimes, no matter what we did, we couldn’t fix everyone. Not even Josh.
I pulled off my scrub bottoms and then turned on the faucet, watching the sink turn red while I washed my face and arms. I dried off, feeling the weight of disappointment and heartbreak, knowing not even a fraction of what I was feeling could be compared to the loss felt by the boy’s mother.
I gripped the sink, choking out a cry. After that first sob, my entire body shook, and I gave myself five minutes to grieve for the boy I never knew. My watch counted down the minutes, and then I washed my face again and dressed in fresh scrubs, ready to do my best to help the next person in need.
Michaels pushed through the door, her eyes puffy and red. “Good work, Jacobs.”
“Thanks,” I said, unable to make eye contact. I walked past the room, the doors closed and family present. Just as the mother began to wail, I grabbed another chart and pushed through the double doors to the waiting room. “Charles?” I called and smiled as a woman pushed her elderly husband’s wheelchair toward me.
Josh was waiting for me after my shift. He stood, still in his navy-blue T-shirt with the white logo and navy-blue cargo pants, bundled in a matching puffy coat. He pulled his ball cap low over his eyes, huffing out a cloud of crisp air when I approached.
“Hey,” I said, crossing my arms over my middle. “How long have you been out here?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I had Quinn drop me after we clocked out. Risking sounding like a huge vag again, I didn’t want to be at the apartment alone.”
I slipped my arms under his, pressing my cheek against his chest. The strong scent of whiskey assaulted my nose. I leaned back. “How many?”
“Just one, after work. It wasn’t even my stash, it was Quinn’s.” He smiled and then shrugged when I didn’t respond. “It’s fucking cold out here.”
I pulled out my keys. “Let’s go home.”
Josh opened the driver side door for me and swept his arm toward the seat. I smiled, sat, and then leaned across the seat to open his door.
He sat, rubbing his gloves together while I attempted to start the car. It whirred three times but didn’t start.
“Shit,” I groaned, slapping my palms against the steering wheel.
“Try it again. She’s just cold. Don’t pump the gas. Let her turn over a few times and then stomp it to the floor.”
I did as Josh instructed, and the Dodge started right up, blasting icy air from the vents. I breathed out a sigh of relief and then turned to him, smiling. “Brilliant. You’re brilliant.”