I leaned my head against the wall and tried to find some sense of calm. My shift today had seen the end of two patients. I hated those moments. I wasn’t sure I could keep doing this work, not now that I was in a funk over Lennon.
That wasn’t quite true. More than my feelings, I’d been struggling with the mere sight, let alone smell of blood ever since I’d been coated in Lennon’s. And since Lennon had quit talking to me, every negative bump, bruise, and shred of grief seemed amplified. When I added that to the loss of patients, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stomach this career.
I wasn’t in a great headspace to nurse my patients, which meant I wasn’t a great nurse. I hated that reality.
“You all right, Vivian?” Maude asked. She was an older nurse, close to retirement. She patted my shoulder as she walked past. We both knew today had taken a toll. She stopped and spun back. “You’re on a break, right?”
I nodded, my throat tight. Everything felt off since I’d returned to San Francisco—like I couldn’t get my bearings. Part of that was Lennon withdrawal. Leaving him there, hurt and in the hospital, had never sat right, and I struggled to focus on my tasks when all I wanted was to nurse him, talk to him, be with him.
I sighed. I was especially down today, but every day had become a chore.
“They just brought the dogs in for the kids. Go pet one. Does wonders for the soul.”
“Thanks. I’m not very good company?—”
Maude waggled her finger. “This is medicine for your mental health. Be sure to pet a dog. I’ll walk you over there myself, missy.”
I tipped my head and smiled a little. No, I didn’t appreciate being spoken down to, but I did love how big Maude’s heart was. “I’ll head over as soon as I eat. Cross my heart,” I added when Maude opened her mouth.
“Now,” she said.
I laughed. Unlike some of the other younger nurses, I appreciated Maude’s tough love. “I’m going.”
Ten minutes later, I had my fingers buried in the soft pelt of a golden retriever who panted gently against my shoulder. “Maude was right. You’ve really helped my mood, Sasha,” I murmured into the dog’s ear. I pulled back from the doggy hug and gave her ears a scratch. “I should get one of you,” I said with a smile.
“She packs quite an anti-anxiety punch,” her handler said.
“She sure does,” I said, stroking Sasha’s head for a few more moments. Then, with a sigh, I rose from the floor. My back was stiff from the long shift and my tightly bound emotions. Crying happened only in the shower, in the privacy of my home.
So, I worked the rest of my shift and then headed there, where I performed my ritual cryfest. I’d just dressed when I heard a knock at my door. This was welcome distraction from my spiraling thoughts. Maybe it was Lennon. He’d promised to come see me… I practically sprinted across my apartment, stubbing my toe on the back of my couch. I winced but my momentum propelled me into the door, which I hit with my shoulder. The loud thud had a blush blooming on my cheeks.
“Vivian, are you okay?” That was Hana Sato, my quiet, somewhat shy neighbor I’d been trying to get closer to for months. I yanked open the door, both disappointed she wasn’t Lennon and thrilled that she’d taken me seriously about stopping by.
“Hey, Hana! Yeah, I’m fine. Stubbed my toe. I’m so glad to see you.”
“Does it hurt?” Hana asked in that soft voice that made me think of my mother’s thick, delicious, homemade hot chocolate. She made it the traditional way, with cinnamon and red chile powder from her home state of Oaxaca in Mexico. I missed my mom’s specialty drink nearly as much as I missed her hugs and advice.
That was a lot, especially now.
So much for guiding me to the love of my life, Mom. More like the biggest dud of my dating experience.
“I’ll be fine,” I assured Hana. I hoped that was true. I waved my arm as I stepped back. “Come in. Please.”
Hana’s liquid brown eyes reminded me of a doe. She was soft and slightly unsure, but the intelligence in her gaze burned bright. “Are you sure?”
“Of course.” I held the door open wider and smiled.
She scooted into my living room, her limp slight but noticeable. She wore a pair of dark dress pants and a simple white blouse. Hana wasn’t fussy, but her choices were classic and clean. Her business attire made me feel frumpy in my sweatpants and fitted T-shirt. I hadn’t bothered with shoes because I had no plans to leave my apartment until my next shift.
Burrowing and wallowing wasn’t healthy or productive. I made a mental note to look into helping out at the animal shelter; if I walked dogs for them, I’d get some much-needed exercise and fresh air while creating less time to fixate on what had been the most perfectly romantic weekend in romance history—until it wasn’t.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be off,” Hana said. “I’m not interrupting anything important, am I?”
“Nothing is going on tonight. I’m on a two-day rotation right now, and I finished my shift and just got out of the shower. I need a meal and maybe a glass of wine.” I raised my eyebrows. “Want to join me?”
“Sounds like the best plan.” Hana limped to my red velour sofa and settled daintily at the end, stretching out her leg. Her injury hurt her often, but she did her best to hide it. Once she reached the couch, she flopped back against the cushions, taking up the position I’d left moments before.
Oof. So that’s why she was here. She’d had one of those emotionally trying days, too.
