by Tahlia Gold
“That’s the asthma patient?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. I get out of the way so he can see it.
He looks at it briefly. “Everything looks normal.”
“What about this?” I point to a faint shadow at the edge of his lung.
He gets in close to look at it. “Hmm,” he says, looking at it even more closely, before finally saying, “What do you think?”
“I don’t know. I think we need to look into it.”
He shrugs. “Scan it.”
I go back into the trauma room. The kid is still breathing relatively normally through the mask. “Guess what?” I say. “We’re going to give you a very special test called a CT scan. You’re going to lie down and we’re going to take another special picture of your chest to make sure you’re going to get all better.”
He says, “I’m scared.” The words come out muffled through the mask.
“There’s nothing to be scared of,” I say. “It won’t hurt at all.”
“Will you come with me?” he asks.
I look at my watch. It’s now an hour past when my twelve-hour shift was supposed to end. I look around the empty room. Still no parents.
He looks at me and takes my hand again.
“Of course, I’ll go with you,” I say.
After the CT scan, I check in on the kid again. During the scan—which he went through like a champ—I found out his name is Jeremy, he’s absolutely obsessed with Transformers, and his mommy works a lot.
When I come back into his room, he doesn’t even notice me at first because he’s so busy with a couple toy soldiers one of the techs brought for him.
“How you feeling Jeremy?” I ask.
He looks up at me and gives a big smile full of teeth. “Better. I can breathe again, Dr. Jess.”
“Can I listen to your chest again?”
“Sure,” he says.
Everything sounds good. We’re still waiting for the results from the scan. I keep him company while we wait. Someone managed to get a hold of his mother and she should be here soon.
After we go through an incredibly elaborate mock battle he comes up with, his mom comes into the room.
“Jeremy!” She shouts. She runs to him, grabs him into her arms and smothers him. “Oh my God. I didn’t know where you were. Are you okay? Oh, my poor baby.”
“I’m fine Mama. Dr. Jess took care of me.”
“Hi. I’m Dr. Bell.” We shake hands.
“Is he okay? What happened?”
“Your son was having an asthma attack and luckily he called 911 and gave them your address. When the ambulance brought him here, he was in severe respiratory distress having an asthma attack. He had what we call a silent chest. It means no air is moving in his lungs. That’s extremely serious. I understand he was home alone when this happened?” I’m not doing a good job of hiding the anger in my voice.
“I—” The woman shakes her head. She’s on the verge of tears. “I’m on my own. I work two jobs to support us. He stays in the program after school until they make them leave and I have somebody bring him home. He’s usually only alone for an hour before I get there. I can’t afford to pay somebody to watch him every day. Oh my God. When I got home, he wasn’t there. I knocked on all the neighbors’ doors. I was running around the neighborhood screaming his name. I was about to call the police when the hospital called and—” She starts crying.
“It’s okay, ma’am. I understand. Here, why don’t we sit down.” I lead her to the chairs next to his bed and hand her a box of tissues. “We gave your son several medications and he seems to be much better now. We did an x-ray of his chest. It wasn’t quite normal so we got a CT scan to try and see if there’s something going on and we’re waiting on the results now.”
“Thank you so much, Doctor. Oh my god. I was so worried.”
I stay with Jeremy and his mom for a while. We talk about his condition, how long he’s had it, what they try to do to treat it. She’s doing all the right things, he just ended up having an acute attack at the wrong time. His dad was never in the picture and she’s working herself to the bone trying to give him a good life. And from what I can tell he has one. He’s happy, well-fed, and loved.
The radiology report finally comes back. After I finish reading it, I look at Jeremy’s mom.
“What does it say?” she asks.
“There is a mass in Jeremy’s chest. It’s a four-by-five centimeter mediastinal mass.”
“What? What does that mean? A mass?”
She’s frantic.
“Are you saying he has cancer?”
“It could be a lot of things, Ms. Jones. Cancer is one of them. We’ll have to schedule him to come back for more tests to be sure but…” I look at the images again. “I can’t say with any certainty, but looking at this, I think there’s a good chance it’s a teratoma. A teratoma is an overgrowth of germ cells. Those cells can become any type of tissue so the tumors can contain anything from teeth to liver cells. The CT shows the mass has many different density elements inside it so that’s why I think it’s a teratoma. They have a distinctive appearance. If we’re right, then he will need surgery to have it removed and I know that sounds scary but it’s a relatively simple procedure. Again, he’ll need to see a specialist and likely have more tests to make sure.”
The attending comes in. “You got the radiology report back?”
I hand it to him. “Mediastinal mass. I’m thinking it’s a terratoma.”
He studies it then nods his head. “I think you might be right.” He looks at Ms. Jones. “Hi, I’m Dr. Reese. Are you his mother?”
“Is my baby going to be okay?”
“I think so, ma’am. I can say that he’s incredibly lucky that he came in with the asthma attack and Dr. Bell here decided to x-ray his chest. It looks like we caught this thing early. If it had been given the chance to grow larger, it could have invaded into other areas of the body and then surgery wouldn’t be an option.”
By the time I get Jeremy discharged, and his mother thanks me for the hundredth time, I’m completely, and totally exhausted. I look at my watch. It’s 11:30pm. Three and a half hours past the end of my shift. I’ve been at the hospital since 8 o’clock this morning. My brain is turning to jelly.
But I’m happy. This is exactly why I wanted to do medicine. I made a connection with a patient and I was able to help him. It’s a great feeling because a lot of the time it doesn’t come out this way. You have very sick people come in, you try to help them but you can’t, and then they die. That’s it. No second chances. So when something turns out like this one, it feels so incredibly fulfilling.
I look at my phone. There’s a text from Dylan with the address of his club. During all this commotion, I completely forgot that I was considering going over there. I’m exhausted. I should go home and sleep and get my body and my mind ready to come back here and do it all over again tomorrow.
But I’m not going to do that. Not tonight. I send Dylan a text.
Me: Are you still up?
8
Dylan
It’s Friday night, so the guys are having a party. Every Friday, it’s a party. But I’m not so much in the mood for it tonight. I’m sitting at the bar, nursing a whiskey. I don’t know why everybody is in such a damn good mood. After we hit the Soul Crushers back, we haven’t heard a peep from them. And some people are taking that as a sign of weakness. As a sign that they’re just going to rollover like a sick Chihuahua and die with their tongues hanging out on the concrete.
But that’s ridiculous.
I know they’re planning something. How do I know? Because that’s what I would be doing. The Crushers may be a bunch of prick scumbags but they’re also one-percenters. The one percent of the population that doesn’t play by the fucking rules, that doesn’t back down when somebody starts something, that doesn’t let an act of aggression go by. There’s zero chance they aren’t going to retaliate. And when they do they’re going to come back hard.
So why is everybody celebrating? Talking like we won a war. This war is just getting started.
My phone vibrates.
Jess: Are you still up?
If anything could put me in a better mood, the thought of finally fucking Jessica Bell might be the thing to do it. My dick starts to harden at the idea.
Me: I’m always up.
Jess: I’m coming over.
Me: I knew you would.
She doesn’t respond. The truth is I thought she probably wouldn’t come over. Why would she? This isn’t her world. She and I may have been close at one point but our lives took a screeching, two-wheels-off-the-ground turn in completely opposite directions. When I go to work, I wear a leather jacket with cutoff sleeves and a Rebel Storm MC patch on the back; she wears hospital scrubs with a stethoscope around her neck. We do both have nametags though. I guess there’s that.
I’m surprised she texted me. I figured I would try one more time next week then give up on it. I’m not one to go chasing after the girls. Pussy is not a thing that’s scarce in my life.
But hell, I can bang her tonight and cross that off my list. Then I can clear up some room in my head for what’s important. Because if I’m being honest, ever since I first saw her walk into that hospital room to stitch up the cut across my chest, she’s been occupying a big old fat area right in the middle of my head. I’m not used to it. Girls don’t affect me like this. But I know there’s only one way to cure it and I intend to do just that tonight.
To think I almost threw her number away after I got it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no prince charming, but she’s got a good thing going and I don’t want to be a part of fucking that up for her. Like the other day when Road Dawg’s dumbass over-dosed on Viagra and her boss nearly flipped her shit when we were in there. That lady has a stick shoved so far up her ass it’s coming out the top of her head.
I almost deleted the number, but of course I didn’t. We have unfinished business. I never did get to have sex with her back home when we had our little puppy-love fling. That’s all it was after all. Young and stupid. I’m still stupid but I’m not young anymore. I’ve got my priorities straight now. The club comes first. Protecting my brothers is the most important thing in my life and no woman is going to get in the way of that.
I sip on my drink while I wait for her, thinking about how things used to be between us. Things were a lot simpler back then. Until the shit hit the fan. But I don’t think about that anymore. That’s old fucking news.
After a while somebody calls my name. “Hey Big D. There’s some chick at the gate says she’s here to see somebody named Dylan. I think she’s a nurse or some shit.”
“That’s me dumbass,” I yell. Most people here only know me as Big D. Pretty much everyone in my life knows me by that name. “Let her in.”
I go to the door and meet her. Small Boy is escorting her in. I can see the suspicion in his eyes. And I think the feeling is mutual for Jess. Small Boy didn’t get his nickname because of his size: he’s 6’5” 270lbs.
“Jess,” I say. “You made it.”
“What’s the deal with all the security? The guys outside nearly turned me away.”
“Sorry about that,” I say. “It’s normal. It’s not the best neighborhood and people try to steal parts off our bikes sometimes.” That part is kind of true. We caught a crackhead trying to steal a chrome muffler one time and, well let’s just say he won’t be making that mistake again. The real reason for the security is the brewing feud we’ve got going. Despite everybody’s joviality toward the whole thing, the Prez at least has his head screwed on right and said we need a 24/7 guard at the club. He’s been through enough wars to know that.
Jess is looking around the clubhouse. I follow her gaze. There’s guys milling around drinking, talking to girls (mostly strippers). A couple guys are playing pool with a pile of cash on a stool next to the table. Jimmy Mac is behind the bar, serving stiff drinks. All in all, it’s a pretty tame Friday night. Nobody’s broken any bones yet.
But I can see the look on her face.
I’m amused but I don’t show it. Anytime a square comes in contact with the one-percent culture it’s always going to be a shock. But I’m not going to rub it in. I’ve got an agenda after all.
“You want a drink?” I ask.
“Definitely. That’s exactly what I want,” she says.
Her voice sounds tired, like she’s been talking all day.
I hold my hand out motioning her towards the bar. She starts walking over there and I fall in behind her, making sure to take a nice long look at her ass. “Nice outfit,” I say. “Very sexy.” She still has on her hospital scrubs.
“Shove it,” she says. “I didn’t have time to change. You’re lucky I’m even here at all.”
I make a cat noise. “Feisty, I like it.”
She sits down on a stool and puts her purse on the bar.
“Jimmy Mac,” I say. “Pour the good doctor here a drink.”
“You got it D. What’ll be little lady? And I’m going to need to see some ID.”
“Oh,” she says, and starts to fumble around in her purse.
I smile at Jimmy Mac. “He’s kidding,” I say. I put my hand on hers to stop her digging around for her driver’s license. “This is a private club.”
“Very funny,” she says. “I’ll have what he’s having.” She points at my drink.
“You got it. Wild turkey, neat.”
We make small talk for a bit. The drink seems to be loosening her up. She’s telling me about some kid with asthma that came in right before her shift was supposed to be over. It’s kind of interesting actually, and she seems super-excited to tell me about it, but all I can think about is how I’m going to get her into my bed. One track mind and all that.
Jess looks at my nickname patch on my jacket, then runs her hand across it. “Why do they call you Big D?”
“I think you can probably guess,” I say.
She raises an eyebrow then her eyes dart down to my crotch. “You’re kidding, right?”
I shake my head, smirking.
“Jesus,” she says.
“When I first started hanging around here, I got kind of a reputation with the ladies for… well, you know. Apparently I’m above average down there and word got around. So people started calling me Big Dylan. Eventually that changed to Big D or Bigs for short and actually most people don’t even know my name is Dylan anymore.”
Somebody yells a loud “fuck you” from behind us and we both turn around in time to see the two brothers that were playing pool start swinging at each other.
“What the hell,” she says.
“Don’t worry, they do this all the time. When they play for money, things start to get heated real quick.”
They’re throwing each other around, winging punches, but not much is connecting. Guys are starting to gather around to egg them on. Finally, one of them connects straight on the nose and the other one goes down cold.
“Holy shit!” she says. “I think his nose is broken.” She starts to get up.
“Woah there, Doc.” I grab her arm. “He’ll be fine. They do this all the time. I guarantee you he’s had his nose broken more times than he can even remember.”
She gives me a look. Maybe bringing her here wasn’t the best idea. It’s not exactly getting her in the mood. “Listen,” I say. “Why don’t we go into my room. I’d love to catch up more but it’s hard to concentrate with these Neanderthals knocking heads.”
It’s a cheap ploy, and I’m pretty sure she sees right through it, but she doesn’t seem to care. “You actually live here?” she asks.
“Yeah, you know… We have a few rooms that some of the guys who don’t have old ladies live in. I’ve got one of them.”
“Old ladies?”
I laugh. “That’s what bikers call their significant other.”
“Charming,” she says. “Show me this room of yours. I’m slightly intrigued now.”
&nbs
p; Thank God I was smart enough to pick up a little bit when I invited her over earlier. Empty condom wrappers on the floor probably wouldn’t have sent the right signal.
I sit on the bed—it’s actually made for the first time in I don’t know how long—and watch her as she looks around my room. My dick is coming to attention at the thought of getting her naked.
She grabs the framed picture on my dresser. It’s an old picture of me and her brother from back in the day. I should have put it away. I didn’t even think about it.
She says, “He looks so happy in this picture.”
“I think that was the day we got arrested for stealing beer from that convenience store down the street. You would think we would’ve had more sense than to steal from the store we’d been going to since we were kids. Do you remember when your Dad came to bail us out? Holy shit. I wanted to actually stay in jail.”
She smiles. “Yeah, you two were a mess together.”
“Your Dad hated me.”
“He did not. He loved you.”
“I don’t know. After… Well, after what happened I know he hated me.”
She takes a deep breath. “He was angry. Everyone was. He didn’t handle it well. But I promise you he doesn’t hate you.”
“Anyway,” I say. “That’s old news.”
“Do you remember,” she says, “when we were kids and I was playing in the park by myself? I was pretending I was a princess and the playground equipment was my castle. I gathered up a bunch of branches to put over the top to make a roof. Then some boys started making fun of me and tore the roof off.
“You happened to be riding by on your bike and saw what was happening. Those boys were bigger and older than you but you rode right into the middle of them and started punching them in the face until they got scared and started running.”
I smile. “I remember. They got me back for that too. Jumped me after school and held me down. But it was worth it.”
I go to where she’s standing with the picture and take it out of her hand and put it on the dresser face down. I pull her into me and kiss her lightly on the lips.
