Page 13 of Savage Saint

Even though he can’t see, I roll my eyes. “You needed powdered sugar and peppers?”

No reply. Thought so.

I make it to the end of the corridor when the door to their lounge closes with a little more force than necessary. Only then do I giggle like a bandit who’s made some serious bank.

Because sometimes being a nurse is knowing when to advocate for your patients, and other times, it means fighting a fifty-something-year-old man over chocolate chip cookies.

Tonight, I did both at different points in my shift.

“Why do you look so damn proud of yourself?” Katia asks as I walk around our station, presenting the spoils of my victory. She takes the cup immediately, nearly chugging half and then sighing in contentment. “God, I needed that.”

“You’re welcome.”

She ignores me, taking another long sip, closing her eyes and letting out a little moan of appreciation. There might be a little wiggle dance, too, and I laugh, settling back into my chair. Moreover, we inhale those delicious chocolate chip cookies. Partly because we need the sugar boost, and secondly, because after I tell her how petty that man is, Katia puts it out into the universe that he might come to reclaim them.

The snack helps. We catch a second wind, and the next few hours pass in a blur of all the small things.

A toddler with a small cut on his knee, not deep enough to require stitches, and his mother was more panicked than he was. The moment I put on cartoons for him, I lost his attention. No matter what we did, he didn’t look away from the screen.

A college kid convinced the three energy drinks he slammed back-to-back were evidence of a heart attack.

Three partiers who drank too much, separate cases, and needed IV fluids and some anti-nausea medication. They stayed here until sober enough to go home with a relative or friend who’d keep an eye on them.

Then chart. And chart some more.

Nothing life-altering, but it kept the clock moving.

By four thirty, the coffee boost is gone, and my feet are declaring war on me. I shift in my chair, trying to find a position that doesn’t make my lower back ache.

Katia glances at me, bag in hand now. She clocked out a while ago but decided to stay and keep me company for a little while. The others on shift are either on break, visiting another department, or making their last rounds.

At this point in my shift, I’m officially on desk duty.

“Quit sighing. It’s just an hour and a half more.”

“I’m allowed to sigh, Katia.”

“Every five minutes. Right on cue.”

“I’m sleepy.”

“Geni, you’re the nap queen. No one naps better than you do.” At that, I flip her off discreetly. Because we’re in a professional setting and I’m a professional. “Very mature.”

“Always.” We share a small giggle before she finally leaves, reminding me over her shoulder about our upcoming brunch date. We need that first day off to sleep and catch up on adulting, while the second is meant to do something fun. Food, a nail appointment, and getting our hair blown out is a perfect way to refresh.

I need it—a change. Maybe some red highlights…

At five twenty, the morning crew starts trickling in. They’re in fresh scrubs with hot coffee in hand—all that energy after a good night’s sleep. I hate them a little.

Not really, but my dry eyes are begging for rest.

They wave as they walk by; a few make small talk, ask how the night went, and laugh when I grumble about Dr. Rodriguez to Cari. She’s used to it and promises compensation, but then my alarm gives a sweet little chime.

It’s officially fifteen to six, and I raise my arms high, stretching as a grin splits my face. “Another shift bites the dust.”

“Seriously, Genesis.” Cari is fighting back a grin. “That’s a horrible thing to say in a hospital.”

“I did say shift…”