by C D Cain
“Hey, Beth, how’re you feeling today?”
The door flew open so much that I fumbled the chart in my hands and nearly let it fall onto the patient’s feet. Dr. Breaker seemed to notice because her eyes darted to the chart and a smile crossed her face at my recovery.
“Aunt Violet, I wasn’t expecting you until later.”
I looked between the two women. Violet? Aunt Violet? I can’t say I saw a family resemblance.
“Hey, kiddo. I got out of my last meeting early and thought I would swing by.” Dr. Breaker winked at Mrs. Lambert before walking toward me with an extended hand. “Good evening, I’m Dr. Breaker.” Her grip was strong as she gave me one brisk shake of her hand and then released it quickly.
“Good evening. I’m Dr. Storm from surgery.”
“And your findings?” Her expression suggested she was already bored with my presence.
“Oh…er…sorry. Yes…I was just telling Mrs. Lambert that her WBC count was mildly elevated, as was her amylase.”
“And her liver function tests?”
“Both the AST and ALT were within normal limits.”
“Which leads you to?” She is pimping me. Aunt Violet is pimping me. I suppose now would not be the time to make a mistake and accidentally call her Aunt Violet.
“With both normal liver function tests and a normal lipase with only a mildly elevated amylase, we aren’t concerned for a stone obstructing ducts to the liver or pancreas.” I decided to speak quickly to try to avoid any further questioning by her. “Plus, the ultrasound didn’t show any signs of a cholelithiasis. Given her timing in her pregnancy, we are recommending to postpone any further testing or surgical intervention at this time.” I directed my attention to Mrs. Lambert who had a wide grin. “There would be an increased risk to the baby to do a Hida scan to determine the function of the gallbladder secondary to radiation of the injected radioactive tracer. Any surgical intervention at this stage in your pregnancy would also be a risk and would have to be an open procedure versus laparoscopic. Therefore, I’m going to recommend to your admitting physician bowel rest, intravenous fluids, and antibiotics if your white count does not start to normalize on its own. Upon discharge, I would recommend you avoid high fatty foods to prevent another event.” I realized I may not have taken a breath with my hurried speech.
Mrs. Lambert laughed and looked at Dr. Breaker. “You should be ashamed.”
“What? What’d I do?” Dr. Breaker pointed to her chest and stepped in between us to sit down on the edge of the bed.
Mrs. Lambert rolled her eyes and looked up at me. “She wouldn’t want you to know she is a big ole teddy bear once you get to know her.”
Dr. Ball Breaker a big ole teddy bear? Somehow, I seriously doubted it.
“Is that all, Dr. Storm?” Dr. Breaker asked with a side glance in my direction.
Yep one big ole teddy bear. “Yes, ma’am.” I looked back at Mrs. Lambert. “Do you have any questions?”
She smiled and shook her head. “No, Dr. Storm, you explained everything perfectly. Thank you.”
“Okay, then. I’m going to go write some orders. It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Lambert. I’ll check on you tomorrow.” I tucked her chart under my arm. “Dr. Breaker.”
“Dr. Storm.”
As I walked out of the room, I heard Mrs. Lambert saying, “You’re such a bad ass.”
“They don’t call me ball breaker for nothing.”
I swear I heard her laughing before the door closed behind me.
“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” I plopped down hard in the booth seat across from Grant. “I got a last-minute consult up on OB.”
“Oh yeah? Anything good?” He didn’t look up from flipping through his Journal of Vascular Surgery.
“Nah, not really. A non-operable gallbladder on a seven-month pregnant female.”
He looked over the edge of the magazine. “See. Why do they do that shit? That is a bullshit consult and they know it. They shouldn’t consult us on crap that isn’t going to the OR.”
“I didn’t mind. She was really nice and I think the reassurance helped her.”
“Yeah, well, glad they sent you. I’ve got better things to do than see bogus consults.”
“Seriously? You’re going to be that guy?”
“No.” He shook his head and closed his journal. “No, I’m not. Sorry. I had a case go bad today. I can’t shake it.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really. If that’s okay. I’ve gotta step up my game is all.”
I reached across the table to place my hand on his. I hadn’t noticed the stress in his eyes until now. He was one of the best residents in our class, yet he never gave himself credit. I had watched him put more and more pressure on himself over the years. To be honest, it was hard for me to see sometimes. “Grant, you’re one of the best residents we have. Your skills are insane. You’re too hard on yourself.”
“It’s down to the wire here. This isn’t the time for me to make stupid mistakes. I’ve lost some of my focus.”
I didn’t want to bring up the engagement stuff, but this seemed like the perfect time to remind him as to why we had always decided to wait on getting married. This was our one shot in school. Now wasn’t the time to lose sight of that. “Remember, that’s why we always said no big plans until after school. We can slow all of this down. Don’t let Charlie Grace change what we have always planned.”
“It’s not just her, Rayne.” He turned his hand over to hold mine. “I’m ready to be your husband. I’m ready to come home to you every night. I miss you when I stay at my place. I’m lonely without you. You’re not only my fiancée, you know? You’re my best friend.”
“Can I get you anything else?” The waitress stopped by our booth as she passed by. “Ma’am, would you like to order something.”
I looked at Grant. “Have you already eaten?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I got here earlier and was starving. Go ahead and order something. I’ll sit with you while you wait.”
I looked up at the waitress. “No, thank you. I’m fine.” But I wasn’t. My stomach had growled the moment I opened the door to the Corner Café. Yet after Grant’s words, the guilt had trickled in and I was really ready to leave. He was a good guy who had always treated me better than I sometimes deserved. The feelings I had for Sam slipped up on me. I couldn’t blame him for the jealousy he had felt. Hell, if the marriage proposal was planned, if he had jumped up the timeline because of her, could I really blame him? He had known me nearly my whole life. Did I honestly expect he wouldn’t see the difference in me after she came into my life? Did I truly believe he hadn’t seen all of the confusion in me?
“Why don’t you go ahead and go? I think I’m too exhausted to eat anyway. I’m going to go home and crash.”
“Oh, okay. Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m going to run to the restroom before I go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He looked around the restaurant. “So, you don’t want me coming over tonight?”
“Not tonight if it’s alright.” I leaned over the table and kissed him softly on the lips. “I’ll see you first thing tomorrow. Good night.”
He laughed when I rubbed at my lips. “They still tickle, don’t they?” He ran his hand over his beard. “I can shave it off if you want.”
“Nah…I’ll get used to it.” I winked and slid out of the booth.
Right on cue, my stomach growled again as I walked out of the bathroom. Maybe I should eat after all. The booth Grant and I had been sitting in was now occupied by Kylie and three other girls. I sat on a barstool next to their table and ordered a basket of fries. Thank the Lord for comfort food.
The guilt I started to feel was beginning to expand into self-loathing. I felt pulled in so many different directions. Even with Sam gone, the feelings s
he had stirred remained. She had opened Pandora’s box. I knew I had been less than receptive to Grant since the engagement party. I was distracted, preoccupied and well, quite frankly, uninterested in anything he had to say. I was angry and there was no way to pretend otherwise. A part of me knew I found it easier to be angry at him than to let what I know to be true of how my life had changed stream into my consciousness. I wasn’t ready for that conversation with myself or anyone else. I knew I needed to treat him better. It wasn’t his fault at all. I also knew just as strongly that Pandora’s box waited for me.
“Are we hitting Pineapple Post this weekend or what?” It was Kylie’s voice. That woman had no decorum. Her loud voice was obscured as she tried to talk around a large bite of food in her mouth. In fact, I pictured tiny morsels flying out of her mouth to land on the table between the group of girls. “Come on! It’s ladies’ night.”
“Ky, it’s the hottest new lesbian bar. It’s always ladies’ night.” I didn’t recognize the girl’s voice but she sure had my attention.
Kylie’s laugh was piercing. “Exactly! And besides that, the deejay that’s playing is fucking hot. H-O-T. Hot. I’d do her in a New York second.”
The group of girls carried on about the deejay and made plans not to miss her on Saturday night. In fact, a round of drinks was on Kylie if she wasn’t successful in convincing the deejay to dance with her before the night was over. I played with the leftover french fries in my basket while I listened to them. Pineapple Post had only recently opened a couple of months ago but it had quickly developed the reputation as the place to be if you were a lesbian or at least that was the talk I had heard around the hospital. If there was any way Sam was still in Birmingham, I bet she would go to the new bar. In the deepest recess of my mind, I knew she had left just as she had said she would, but I couldn’t deny there was a small piece of me—okay, a rather large piece of me—that wondered if she had transferred her residency to one of the other affiliated hospitals and not actually moved away.
Memaw used to say if it rained the first day of the month, then more than half the days of the month would see rain. So far, her prediction was spot on for this April. I had only walked a couple of blocks before the first drops fell. I tried to protect myself from the falling rain by standing under a canopy attached to the wall of a building in the seventeen-hundred block of downtown. I knew the location because I had to search for a physical address when I called for a cab.
The tree-lined streets of this block were one of my favorites in the downtown Birmingham area. The trees were dwarfed in comparison to those back home, but if I positioned myself just right under their branches, they were tall enough to block out some of the city’s lights.
I inhaled deeply to take in the smell of the freshly falling rain but was choked with disappointment at the sickening mixture of exhaust fumes and people’s waste. The voices of those walking along the crowded streets permeated the air around me. They rose above the sound of rain dropping on the cloth canopy to be all I could hear. I strained to listen beyond their chatter. That was it really, the reason why I hated the city. Back home, this night would bring me peace. It would bring me smells and sounds of an entirely different night life. Back home, I would smell rain falling on a field of new spring grass and hear the sound of raindrop patters on the tree leaves above me.
A car horn blared as it pulled up quickly to the curb. “Hey, you the lady calling for a cab?”
I tried to compose myself after he scared me right out of my skin.
“Well, are you?”
“Uh…yeah, that was me.”
“Get to it, lady. I ain’t got all night.”
The stench of the cab overcame me as I opened the back door and climbed in. So, this was what a boy’s locker room smelled like. Lovely.
“Where to?”
I stared out the window. Even with a complete stranger, I found myself intimidated, afraid to tell him where it was I wanted to go.
“Come on, lady. Out with it. Where to?”
“Ummmm…The Pineapple Post.”
The man turned in his seat to look at me. “You know it’s only about three blocks in that direction.” He pointed out the front windshield.
“Yes, I know.”
“Sure thing, toots. It’s your dough not mine.” He flipped the meter on and pulled out into the street.
What he didn’t know was the fact I had tried to make the short walk a few times before this night. The closest I ever got was looking around the corner of a building to see the bright yellow entrance door. Tonight, a cab driver would stop me right in front of the door with only a few steps needed on my part. Surely, I wouldn’t back out if I got that close to the door.
He sped quickly past the door before taking a serious U-turn in the road and braking hard in front of the entrance. “That’ll be fifteen bucks.”
I gave him a twenty and got out quickly. The aroma was a good deterrent to me chickening out. There was no way I wanted to be a minute longer with that odor absorbing into my skin.
I had not been to many bars in my life. A few scattered here and there when I was in college but they were nothing like this place. I only remember them to be not much more than a place to order a drink, a couple of pool tables, and a small dance floor. This place was a nightclub. The long bar off to the right was, in the simplest term, gorgeous. It was designed of different stained wood colors and had lights underneath it which shined onto the matching wooden bar stools. The overhanging lights were varied colors of reds and oranges. Beyond that, I would have to say it was also empty—very empty.
The sound of glass bottles clanking against one another came from around the corner of the bar. A woman stepped into view. She hoisted the large box onto the top of the bar and stopped to look at me. She rested her elbow over the top of the box but didn’t say a word.
Suddenly, I was nervously aware she was staring right at me. She didn’t say a word. She just stared right at me. I looked over each of my shoulders as I hoped someone had walked up behind me and caught her attention.
“Oh, honey, please tell me you’re meeting someone here.”
“Um, no…I’m not.”
She looked up at the ceiling. “Gonna be one of those nights.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re fresh meat in the meat market.” She started unpacking the box of beer bottles.
“Are y’all open?” I looked around again but saw no one else.
The girl behind the counter looked at her watch. “You do realize it’s only eight o’clock, right?”
“Yes, I do. The phone recording said you opened at seven-thirty.”
She laughed a deep, throaty laugh. Not that I expected it to sound differently as her voice matched its depth. “Yep, gonna be one of those nights.” She motioned to the barstool in front of her. “What can I get you to drink?”
I don’t deny I was more than a little confused as to her meaning but a drink sounded much needed at the moment. “I’ll take one of those beers.” I used the step bar to take a seat onto the barstool. The woman looked like she was a good six inches taller than my five-foot-four-inches.
“One of these hot beers?” She held up a bottle from the box. “Or one of these?” She reached behind her into the icy tray of beers. A piece of crushed ice fell from the bottom of the bottle.
“One of those iced-down ones looks pretty darn good.”
She popped the top and slid the bottle toward me. She folded her arms as she leaned against the metal bin behind her. “Look at you. I haven’t seen a fresh Bambi face like this in a really long time.” She reached back into the ice bin and pulled out another beer, popped the top, and took a long swig. “The girls are going to eat you up.” She pointed the neck of the bottle at me and grinned. “And I do mean that literally.”
What? Wait…eeeeww. No, no. I’m not here for that.
&nbs
p; All of her features were highlighted directly under the recessed lighting and she was beautiful. Like model beautiful. Even down to being a touch too much on the skinny side. Her height probably didn’t help with that. Her shoulders and neck were accentuated by the spaghetti strap shirt she wore. Its material hugged her lean frame closely from her chest down to her torso. The neck of the shirt formed a scoop underneath her collarbones which left her olive-toned shoulders completely bare.
She cleared her throat and broke me from my stare. She shook her head. “What’s your name?”
“Rayne.”
She smirked and took a swallow of her beer. “Cool name.”
“Thanks.”
She smiled broadly, showing off the two dimples in her cheeks. “It’s unique. One you don’t forget when you’ve heard it.”
“It is.”
She took another swallow of her beer. “I’m Jazlyn.” She spoke over the neck of the bottle. “Not that you asked or anything.”
“I’m sorry. I’m—”
“Nervous?”
“Uh…er…”
Jazlyn stepped closer to me and rested her elbows on the bar. “You’ll be safe for a couple of hours. The place doesn’t start jumping until well after ten.”
“Oh.” Memaw had a saying about dimples. She said they were the marks left from an angel’s kiss. The angel must have loved giving Jazlyn kisses because she had a cleft in her chin too. Her dimples kept shining as she had yet to stop smiling at me.
She slapped her hand down on the bar. “How about a tour?”
“Sure.” I jumped down from the stool to meet her at the end of the bar.
The rich red-and-gold color scheme followed us as we stepped down two small stairs leading from the bar area onto the dance floor. Gold track lighting illuminated the stairs while strands of red hung tightly against the ceiling.
