If that means I lose Damian, but my sons gain a father, then that will be worth it.
16
DAMIAN
The ED does not carethat I am in a good mood. It attempts to correct that immediately.
By seven p.m., we’re already short a nurse, radiology is backed up, and triage has flagged three possible admissions that all insist they were fine an hour ago. The board glows in hostile yellow across the nurses’ station, a steady reminder that we’re behind.
Meron appears at my elbow before I even open my first chart. “You signed off on room four without consulting cardio.”
“I paged them. They declined.”
“You should document that more clearly.”
“I documented it just fine.”
He flips through the digital chart with unnecessary intensity.
“It’s under notes,” I add calmly.
He scrolls. Finds it. Says nothing.
Normally, this is where I would feel the familiar tightening in my jaw. The low simmer that comes from being audited by someone who knows exactly how to push.
Tonight, the irritation doesn’t quite take hold. In fact, I’m smiling. It’s fun to see him prove himself wrong, and Perry’s kitchen lingers in my head instead. Morning light across her counter. The way she leaned against the stove like she wasn’t trying to be anything other than tired and honest.
Coffee first, always.
The memory blunts the edge of Meron’s tone. “You’re distracted.”
“I’m not distracted. You’re wrong about that too. Wanna try for three accusations and see if that one lands?”
He scowls, lines forming that odd railroad pattern on his forehead. “You are distracted, and you should chart better.”
“I’m efficient. We both know it.” I don’t offer more, not even when his glare intensifies.
But a nurse hollers for him, and the stand-off is over.
We move through the next wave of patients with the usual choreography. I suture a laceration. Clear a concussion. Calm a man convinced his heartburn is a heart attack—might be our most common complaint in Snow Valley.
Meron shadows, comments, and adjusts as he sees fit. “You’re moving fast,” he says again when I discharge room six.
“I would slow down to your speed, but these are emergency cases we’re dealing with, and I’d hate to lose a patient just so I can cater to your lack of caffeine.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant.”
He follows me down the hall as we head toward trauma. “You’re being insubordinate.”
I glance sideways at him. “That’s a criticism? Or a compliment?”
“What’s gotten into you?”
I know this game with Meron. He anticipates tension and prepares to exploit it.
I sign off on a chart and look at him fully for the first time all night. “You’ve been a pain in the ass all night, but you’re not getting under my skin anymore, and that bothers you. The problem for you is that your little petty antics don’t bug me anymore, Meron. You’re not getting under my skin. Be childish. It really doesn’t matter to me.”
