I shake my head. “Yes, but not yet. There’s a few people joining us.” I stand, waving at Hannah until she sees me. Her cheeks burn red as she strides over to the table.
Judy mutters her agreement, walking off as I pull out a chair for Hannah. “Morning,” I say, sitting back down as she settles in next to me. “How was the rest of your shift?”
She shrugs, not looking at me as she scoots her chair slightly away from me. “It was fine, one chest pain, and one fall assist at the nursing home. Nothing too crazy. Where is everyone?” Hannah looks up as if she expects everyone to have suddenly appeared.
“Don’t know,” I reply. “I can check and see. I’m pretty sure Leo and Steve said they’d stop by.” I pull out my phone and note the missed texts from both of them letting me know they won’t make it.
Judy drops a mug in front of Hannah and fills a cup of coffee for her without Hannah even having to ask.
“Well, I guess it’s just us,” I announce, noticing the way Hannah tenses. “The other guys can’t make it.”
“Oh,” Hannah mumbles, taking a slow sip of her coffee.
“Do you want a minute to look at the menu, or should we order?”
“We can order,” she states abruptly.
“I’ll have my usual, Judy.” I smile and pass her my menu.
Hannah glances at the menu briefly and swallows harshly. “I’ll have a bowl of oatmeal and rye toast.” Her voiceshakes and when she hands the menu back to Judy, I note the stiffness in her body. Her breakfast choice is interesting to me as well. It’s not something I’d order for myself at a diner known for their breakfasts, but who am I to say anything?
“How are you feeling after last night, er, this morning?” I ask Hannah.
She shrugs, some of the tenseness still in her shoulders. “Fine. Just another night I guess. It sucks, but it is what it is, right?”
I nod. “Right, but I mean, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here,” I offer. As if I’m one to talk. I’ve been trying to be fine, to process things on my own, but I’m close to a breaking point. It’s why I suggested this group breakfast this morning. I needed someone to confide in.
Hannah chokes on the gulp of coffee she took, and starts coughing. “Shoot, you okay?” I ask while I pat her back and offer her a napkin.
She waves me off, and clears her throat a few times. “Sorry, swallowed wrong.”
“No worries, as long as you’re okay.”
“Fine,” she says. “Are you doing okay after last night?” She looks up and I finally get a full glimpse of her face for the first time since she sat down.
Her long blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail with a few pieces falling out over her ears, pieces that probably fell out during her shift. Her blue eyes are bright despite our long night and the sheer exhaustion she must be feeling. There are flecks of gray in her eyes that I’ve never noticed before, and a smattering of freckles dance across her nose and cheeks.
It feels like I’m seeing her for the first time, even though I’ve known her for years now. She’s a damn good paramedic,has been since her first day. She has good instincts, and people in town love her.
I’m brought back to the conversation at hand when Hannah notices me staring. She quickly wipes at her face as if she has something stuck to it, and brushes the loose pieces of hair back.
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “Like you said, it sucks, but it is what it is.”
The real truth of it though, is that I’m not fine. No one wants people to die, and no one wants to be the one to tell the mom of a seventeen-year-old kid that their child is dead.
So, why aren’t I confiding in Hannah?
“Actually,” I state, ready to spill my guts to this girl, but Judy slides our plates in front of us, and walks away without asking if we need anything else.
“Actually?” Hannah asks, picking up her spoon and poking at the globular-shaped oatmeal in the bowl. I don’t miss the slight grimace as she lifts a scoop to her lips and swallows it down harshly. Damn, she’s not even going to put brown sugar or milk in it?
I shake my head, ignoring her questionable oatmeal choices. “Never mind,” I state, hunger overtaking me now that my food is in front of me. I dig into my meal of hash browns, eggs, and ham, and change the subject. It doesn’t escape my notice again that Hannah is barely eating, picking at her oatmeal, and is that… rye bread? Who likes rye bread for breakfast? Did she really mean to order that?
3
HANNAH
He needs to stop looking at my gross oatmeal. I mean seriously; he knows it’s disgusting; I know it’s disgusting, but he doesn’t need to keep staring at it like it’s going to hop out of the bowl and eat him. Though, maybe it will. At this point, I don’t know.
