Avoiding Amy Jackson

by N. A. Alcorn

  My best friend is annoyingly good-looking.

  “Kind of early for you to be here, isn’t it?” I set the charts to the side and sit back in my chair, crossing my legs.

  James rests his ass on the edge of the desk, crossing his arms in front of him. His biceps flex and his perfect muscles ripple in the most delightful way. I know, I know. Stop thinking about James and his perfect muscles, his beautiful eyes, and his…

  Okay, I’m not finishing that thought.

  I take a deep breath and blow out the air through my lips, pushing the breath up past my forehead, consequently blowing strands of hair away from my face. My hair is an absolute wreck and my makeup is now nonexistent. After working all night, I can only imagine how tired and worn down I look.

  “I’ve got some patients to do post-op rounds on before my office hours. Plus I thought I’d come in and see you for a few minutes before I got started. Rough night?” James asks as he leans down towards me and gently pushes the errant strands of hair out of my face.

  “You have no idea. By the way, did you happen to see Lizzy at the gym yesterday? She’s been acting really strange lately. I was hoping to talk to her before I left for work last night, but she didn’t answer my phone calls and wasn’t home before I had to leave.”

  “No, she wasn’t at the gym. At least I never saw her there. What do you think is going on?”

  “I’m not sure, but I have a feeling it has something to do with her ex. Her divorce still isn’t final and she’s been super emotional lately.”

  “That’s weird. I bet she’s just worn down. Stress tends to have that effect,” James offers encouragingly.

  I nod in agreement. “Speaking of worn down, I can’t wait to throw my ass into bed.”

  “You want some help with that? I’m pretty much I’m an expert in the throwing-women-on-beds category.” He slides a sly smile my way.

  I chuckle at his crass comment. He’s always trying to get my mind in the gutter. It’s a shame James doesn’t realize that, when it comes to him, my mind tends to go straight to the gutter without even trying. I can’t help it. He’s too sexy for my own good. If I choose to go home and diddle myself to thoughts of my smoking-hot best friend naked and thrusting inside of me, well that’s my cross to bear.

  I bet James is a spanker…and a light choker…and a phenomenal dirty talker… Mmm.

  James clears his throat loudly and stares at me with pure inquisitiveness etched all over his face. “Where did you go, Am? Your face is a little flushed…”

  My god damn nipples are hard too!

  Shit. Think. Say something. Change the subject.

  “I’m just thinking about the other night when this guy…”

  James puts his hand up and abruptly cuts me off. “Nope. Don’t finish that. I have no desire to hear that fucking story.” His jaw slightly clenches and the muscles in his neck flex.

  “I’m kidding! Chill the fuck out. Considering you’ve been hanging around my apartment every night for the past week, I’d say it would’ve been pretty difficult for me to manage a hook-up with some random guy.” I smile up at him, trying to ease his current state of irritation. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that James is letting jealousy rear its ugly head. I immediately feel a little bad for being such a sarcastic bitch.

  James runs his hand through his messy hair and looks up at me through his lashes. “Do you always get this much enjoyment out of screwing with me?”

  I laugh a little at his peeved expression. “I wasn’t trying to screw with you.” James pins me with a glare. “Okay, maybe I was a little bit, but I’m not sure why a comment like that would get you so pissed off.” I tilt my head to the side, quietly gauging his reaction.

  He lets out a very loud sigh and looks down at his shoes before looking back up at me with an intense feel to his eyes. “I just don’t ever want to hear about you with other guys, okay? No douchebag you pick up at a bar deserves to be with a girl like you. You deserve so much better than that. You’re…” His voice trails off and he doesn’t finish his train of thought.

  My eyebrows rise. “I’m…what?”

  “Just forget I said anything.”

  “No, you need to finish that statement.” I stand up out of my chair, face to face with James.

  He huffs out a deep breath and gazes into my eyes. “You’re so damn frustrating sometimes, you know that?”

  “I am frustrating. I’m well aware of this, but I have a feeling that wasn’t what you were going to say.” My eyes lock with his. I’m not sure why I’m doing this or why I’m trying to get him to say things I know are only going to make it harder for me to just be friends with him, but I’m doing it. Apparently I’m a masochist.

  James turns his head to the side, like he’s searching for the right words. Then he brings his gaze back to mine, practically scorching me. “You’re…perfect.”

  Perfect?

  Well, shit. I’m not even sure how to respond to that. No guy has ever considered me perfect. I’ve been considered a greedy cunt, a raving bitch, an inappropriate and obnoxious asshole, but perfect? Yeah, that’s never been a description of me. I’m staring into his eyes, desperately probing for what is running through his head. I know James would still love to get inside of my panties. It’s obvious that we have an insane amount of attraction for each other, but that’s all I thought it was…sexual attraction. Not him showing any type of affection for me. He’s looking at me like he really cares about me, like he’s got deeper feelings.

  I’d say it’s apparent that I’ve got more-than-friends type of feelings for him. Does he have those feelings too? I blink my eyes several times and try to squelch the feelings of panic in my gut. The idea of a guy like James actually caring about me and wanting more from me… Well, those are still scary thoughts for me. Despite my fear, I want him to think about me like that…

  No. You. Don’t.

  Yes. I. Do.

  I like control. I need control. I’m selfish and I don’t deserve to have someone like James care about me. I don’t deserve that…at all. He’s standing in the middle of the nurses’ station, looking down at me with intensity, this nearly tangible passionate tension radiating off of him. His eyes are all-consuming, pulling me in, desperately begging me to say something.

  What the fuck can I say to that?

  “Amy, we’ve got a squad coming in. Get bed eight set up. Eight-year-old boy found nonresponsive in his family’s pool.” Tony’s voice tugs my focus away from James. The words he just said make my heart drop inside of my stomach. I’m frozen in panic, in fear, in absolute terror. My chest feels heavy and my pulse is pounding erratically. My heart beats so fast that my breath starts to come in quick, shallow spurts. I clench my fists and feel the clamminess of my palms.

  “Amy?” James steps towards me, his hand grasping my arm. “Amy? Are you okay?” I close my eyes tight and inhale a deep, shuddering breath. I slowly open my eyes and see that his face is filled with apprehension.

  “Y-yeah. Yes, of course I’m all right. I have to go.” I hurriedly pull away from his grip and rush into bed eight, throwing supplies around, getting ready for what’s about to be brought into this room.

  “Get it together. You can do this,” I whisper to myself as I pull the crash cart close to the bedside, pulling out pediatric-sized masks and supplies for a possible intubation. Tony walks into the room and proceeds to get medication drawn up so we have it ready. Ready for what we’re going to be faced with.

  Benny.

  Benny was ten years old when he drowned. The day I let him down, let everyone down.

  “Amy!” Tony is watching me from across the room. His face is etched with worry and confusion. “Are you okay? Did you hear anything I just said to you?”

  I nod my head and drag my hand over my face, taking another deep, trembling breath.

  I’ve got to get my shit together. Now is not the time for a breakdown. Now is the time to do my fucking job. I can’t be weak. Never weak. There i
s no room for error caused by my inability to leave my personal life out of this.

  I hear the emergency room doors slide open, and I know that in a matter of seconds this little boy is going to be on my bed. This little boy needs help. He doesn’t need a nurse who is distracted and can’t get her god damn head out of her ass. This little boy needs someone who is focused and ready to do everything in her power to save his precious life.

  Paramedics wheel their stretcher into the room. Two are pushing the bed while the other two are currently doing chest compressions and ventilating his airway. “Eight-year-old boy, found nonresponsive in the family pool around six a.m. Parents do not know when he woke up this morning, so estimated time of drowning is unknown. No known past medical history. We’ve been doing CPR for about three minutes. We had a faint pulse of fifty when we arrived on the scene, but lost the heart rate en route. No rhythm to shock and he has received his first round of epinephrine.”

  “On three… One…two…three.” We slide him over onto our ER gurney and I do my best to squelch the ache in my chest when I see his limp body lying right in front of me.

  Deep breaths.

  Deep breaths.

  You have to get it together.

  “I’ll take over chest compressions,” I tell the young paramedic standing next to me. I promptly take his role and bile rises in my throat when I have this little boy’s chest right underneath my hands.

  Breathe. Just breathe. Stay focused.

  Tony takes over ventilating his airway and a few more ER staff members arrive. They immediately start assisting us in continuing our rescue efforts.

  I count my compressions out loud for the entire team to hear. I slowly feel myself starting to panic on the inside. I’m losing it. I hate this feeling. I’m always in control. Always. And right now, I’m far from it. I’m barely hanging on by a thread. My thoughts are scattered and my vision is starting to tunnel from my unsteady, fast breathing.

  Fuck.

  God dammit. Get it together.

  This little boy needs you. He needs you focused.

  Benny needed me… Benny needed me and I wasn’t there…

  Adrenaline is coursing through my veins, and the pivotal fight or flight moment is now present. My body is urging me, pushing me to run. Run out of this room. Run away from this as fast as my feet can take me. I can’t handle it. I can’t face the past, and right now, my brain, my subconscious, and my entire god damn body are aggressively pushing me quickly towards the brink of losing control over everything I’ve tried so hard to avoid.

  Ringing has now taken over my hearing capacity and I can’t hear anything around me. My peripheral vision is nonexistent. I’m stuck in a dark, terrifying tunnel with no escape. I know the only thing I can do now is get someone else to take over my role so I can get out of the room. I am no good to this little boy. My inability to hold it together is only placing his life more at risk if I continue to try to assist in rescuing him.

  “S-someone t-take over for me,” I hoarsely whisper out.

  “I got you. Let me take over,” Ellen murmurs in my ear and slides my hands away from his chest, promptly taking over chest compressions.

  I’m frozen next to her. My eyes are wide with fear, with shock, and my mind is filled with memories. Memories of my little brother Benny.

  “Go.” Ellen is looking at me with a serious expression on her face. “Go! Get the fuck out of here!” she says sternly, loud enough for only me to hear. She knows what’s happening. She knows what happened to Benny, and the look on her face says that she knows I’m losing it.

  I turn on my heels and run out of bed eight, rushing past the nurses’ station, and out of the emergency room. I race into the ladies’ locker room, straight into the bathroom, and lock myself in a stall. My breathing is shallow and quick; my head swims with lightheadedness. My back slides down the wall until I’m sitting on the floor with my head between my knees. The dam finally bursts. Tears course down my cheeks and I can’t hold it in anymore. I can’t keep it in. I’ve lost control of this one thing I’ve continued to push away. The one thing I’ve refused to face. The guilt and the anxiety and the undeniable sadness are pouring out of me with each salty tear that slides down my face.

  With each shaky breath and gasping sob, I no longer have control…

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Vulnerable and Exposed.” - Amy

  The bathroom door slides open and light from the hallway filters into the bathroom stall. Shadows hover over my feet, which are firmly frozen to the ground.

  “She’s in here. I got her, James.”

  “Ellen, let me do this. Let me help her.”

  A quiet moment takes over the bathroom and faint whispers wash over the room. I can’t make out what is being said. It doesn’t matter though. Nothing matters right now. I’ve completely lost it and I’m not sure how I’m ever going to find my way back.

  The door to the bathroom stall shakes firmly and then I see James’s shoes peek underneath.

  “Amy. Open the door. Let me in,” he demands tenderly gently.

  “I…I…c-can’t.” My voice is thick with grief, and tears still spill down my cheeks. I’ve been crying. I’m still crying. I can’t stop fucking crying. Why can’t I stop crying?

  “C’mon, sweetheart. Just open the door.”

  “N-no,” I hoarsely squeak out. “Just go… Just go away.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. If you’re not going to open this door, I’m going to find another way in.”

  Silence consumes the bathroom. My mind is weak, my body emotionally spent, and I just don’t have an iota of energy to throw my normally sarcastic, bitchy jabs his way. I don’t even have the energy to stand up. I’m spent, nearly lifeless from all-consuming grief that’s taken over me. The grief and sadness that’s built up for over fourteen years. The emotions that have threatened me for years and I’ve just obstinately refused to face.

  Coward.

  I’m a fucking coward.

  A selfish, worthless coward.

  “All right, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” James announces before I see him squat down in front of the stall door and then slowly slide his large body underneath. He’s literally crawling on this disgusting bathroom floor because he refuses to leave me alone. He refuses to leave me here by myself to fight this losing battle of guilt. My eyes close reluctantly, pushing more tears out. More saddening liquid emotions course down my face.

  A loud bang on the door startles me and I quickly open my eyes. James is now seated in front of me, and he rubs his head with a grimace. His eyes squint and his jaw clenches. “Fuck, that hurt.”

  Normally, I would laugh in this situation, but I just…can’t. I can’t laugh or smile or even attempt hiding the remorse, the sorrow that has taken over. I’m suffocating. I wish I could turn back time and change everything. Fix everything.

  Why couldn’t I have been there? Why didn’t I watch him more closely?

  Because you’re selfish.

  You were a selfish fifteen-year-old girl who only cared about herself.

  I’m still selfish. Living my life, enjoying moments with my friends, finding happiness throughout my day—happiness I don’t deserve. I don’t deserve any of it. Benny should be living my life. Benny should be here.

  James slides himself next to me and wraps his arm around my shoulder. My body startles at his touch. “I got you. I got you. I’m here.” His words open a Pandora’s box of emotions, and I find myself grasping his stiff scrub top in my hands and burying my face in his chest. I sob with every last ounce of energy I have left. He draws me closer to his large, warm body, embracing me, holding me, comforting me. The sobs and the gasps and the never-ending tears feel endless. He rubs gentle circles on my back and strengthens his grip.

  I wish he could just take this all away…

  “Take it away, James. Please take it all away.” My voice cracks with heartache.

  “Let me take you home. Let’s go home, sweetheart
.” His voice is muffled in my hair, his warm breath pressing against my neck.

  “I can’t move. I just…can’t even move.” I grip his shirt tighter, clenching the material between my fists.

  James pulls himself away from my embrace. Warm, strong hands grip underneath my thighs and around my back. He lifts me off the ground and cradles my pathetically weak body to his chest. “I got you.”

  He strides out of the bathroom stall, through the bathroom door, and into the hospital hallway. I don’t even have the energy to open my eyes when I feel the bright, fluorescent lights shining down on us. The sound of his shoes echo inside my brain. The normal energy and rush of the morning hospital crowd fills the air. I should be embarrassed or concerned about people seeing me in James’s arms. Seeing the sadness and tears plastered on my face, but it doesn’t matter.

  Nothing matters.

  ****

  James smoothly places me inside of his SUV, buckles my seatbelt, and leans the passenger’s chair back so I can lie down. “Just rest, sweetheart,” he says before getting into the driver’s seat and heading towards my apartment. The combination of being up all night at work and the emotional toll this morning’s events has taken on me cause me to fall asleep before we even leave the hospital parking lot. I don’t remember him getting me out of the car, carrying me into my apartment, or even laying me down in my bed…

  ****

  I slowly open my eyes; the remnants of tears cause my lashes to stick together. I can feel James’s warm hands around my waist, his chest pressed up against my back. I adjust my body so that I’m lying on my back and my eyes lock with his. My apartment is completely silent and I can see the clock on my nightstand. Eleven a.m. I’ve been asleep for over three hours.

  “You’re still here.” My voice is gruff with sleep and exhaustion.

  “I’m still here.” James’s eyes look deep into mine. His gaze is unrelenting and all-consuming as he keeps my eyes locked with his.