After checking her chart, I take her pulse at her wrist. She loves the physical contact. “Well, you seem stronger every time I see you, so something must be working.”
It’s not entirely true. Her energy levels have been unstable the last two days, but a big part of my job is convincing patients they’re doing well. If they believe it, it usually becomes true.Usually.
“Has your daughter come for a visit yet?”
When Ruth looks away, my heart sinks.
I squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry. But I’m here, and right now, I don’t have anywhere to be. So, what are we watching?” I glance at the TV and immediately reach for a chair. “Oh! Golden Girls! I would’ve come sooner if I’d known.”
She laughs. “Why am I not surprised you’re a fan?”
“Hell yeah, I am. I’m Dorothy all the way.”
Ruth caps her pink highlighter.
“Have you always liked word searches?”
She shrugs. “It’s something to do.”
“How about crochet?” I ask on a whim.
“Pardon?”
“Do you crochet? Or knit? I can bring you some yarn, if you want. For something else to do.”
She blinks at me. “You’re too sweet, Miles.”
I grin. “Which do you prefer? Crochet hook or knitting needles?”
“Oh, I can’t do it anymore. My hands, you know. I can barely handle this most days. But your offer is so kind.”
I touch her arm and remind myself to buy some word search books, at the very least.
We turn back to the TV. Within minutes of watching the show, Ruth’s eyes get heavy. I suspect she’s only a night owl because she doesn’t like being alone. Nights are harder for her. It makes me wonder why her family hasn’t visited.
When she’s finally asleep, I place her book on the rolling table within her reach and fix her blankets. Then I quietly slip from the room and wander back to the nurse’s station. It’s still empty. The other two night nurses must be on a separate wing of the floor.
Which means it’s going to be a long ass night.
Leaning against the counter, I pull my phone out. I try not to be on it when I’m at work, but sometimes, I just can’t help it. And yes, I’m secretly hoping Jordan will message me again. It’s been three days, and I don’t know if he’s waiting on me to write him or if he’s just not interested. Maybe he doesn’t want an online friendship like I do.
What does that say about me? Am I really so lonely that I’m aching for anonlinefriendship?
Whatever the reason for his silence, I haven’t been able to archive our conversation yet. There’s just something about him.
When I open Messenger, I’m surprised to see his name in bold. A new message!
Jordan:You there?
Two words, sent over an hour ago and without any sort of context, yet they make my heart flutter.
I grin stupidly as I type back:Yes… and no. At work, so I can only talk in between patients. What’s up?
The light by his name indicates Jordan is offline, but I stare at the message anyway, dying to know what he wanted. Just to chat? Did he have a question?What?
“Talk. To. Me!” I whisper shout. “Please!”
When a reply doesn’t come, I sigh and return to work, but I can’t stop thinking about Jordan for the rest of my shift, discretely checking my phone whenever I get a chance. I even sneak a peek—or three—at his profile, my curiosity getting dangerously out of control. But Jordan is one of thosesuper private guys where things are only visible to his friends. Annoying… and admirable. I’m the same way.
