by Amy Faye
The night was supposed to be a little pre-roommate celebration. She'd bought a bottle of wine and everything, for herself, so she could drink it by herself while she watched old romcoms and thought about the future and how it wasn't a complete wreck any more. That was a good thing, at least.
Instead, at some point she had made a microwave dinner and passed out on the couch. Her phone beeped loudly at her that it was six in the morning and it was time to get up. The sun, for its part, hadn't risen yet. Why should she be up before the sun? Couldn't sick people just wait a few hours so that she could keep reasonable hours?
Caroline forced herself up and moved mechanically to get herself into her clothes. The phone beeped a message, but she ignored it for the time being. Too many morning chores to deal with.
She hopped into the shower, her clothes on the floor in a heap until she remembered, as soon as the hot water hit her, that she was expecting someone to come by in a little bit. She leaned out, dripping water all over the floor, far enough to snag the clothes and toss them into a hamper.
She was quick in the shower. The entire thing was a necessary part of waking up, and it wasn't the last one on the list. She padded out of the bathroom, enjoying her ability to go naked one last time before she had to share the house with someone else, and clicked the button to start the coffee brewing.
While it poured out, she went and got herself dressed. She could just about hear the sound of the water starting to gurgle as it ran out by the time she had pulled on a fresh set of scrubs. She picked up the phone first and checked it. There were three messages from a number she didn't recognize right away.
Caroline clicked it open and headed for the coffee. It was healthier to drink it black, though some she knew that some of the health blogs she followed were talking about how great and effective it was to put butter in. Supposedly, it provided long-lasting energy, and given how fats are processed by the body, it probably was.
Instead, she poured in a tablespoon of sugar and stirred the cup idly with a knife as she read.
The first text read 'On my way, still on for this morning?' The second read 'hello?' The third said 'I'm outside'; By that point, Caroline had finally managed to take a sip of coffee, and with the surge of awareness that came along with it came the memory of a girl who had messaged her about the room. Shannon, she thought?
Luckily, the last text hadn't been a long time ago. Her fingers scrambled to tap away at the phone. 'OMG I'm sorry, I'll be outside in a sec to show you around. Just getting ready for work.'
Caroline drank another sip of coffee, set the cup aside, and grabbed her little bottle of pepper spray. She tucked it into a pocket, dropped her key ring into the other pocket, and opened the front door.
The man outside was startlingly unlike the girl that Caroline had imagined. He was tall, handsome, muscular without being too bulky. He looked up as the door opened, already beginning a smiling greeting.
His smile and hers dropped at nearly the exact same moment, because in addition to all of those things, he was something else: he was awfully familiar.
Caroline spoke first. "I thought Shannon was coming. The room's only for one, so…"
"I'm Shannen. We spoke last night about a room."
She wanted to answer that Shannon, however you spelled it, was a girls' name. He didn't look like the sort of man that would take particularly kindly to that kind of talk, though. She swallowed.
"I'm sorry, I… misunderstood."
"I need a place to stay," he told her. "I'm kind of on the street right now, so… I won't bother you, and I can pay you an extra hundred for rent, but please. I need a place to stay. Hell, I'll take the couch if you want."
She looked at him and all she could see was his body, hard and tight, shadows stark under the severe fluorescent lights, grunting as he thrust into Deborah. All she could see was the look on Deborah's face, desperate for more.
Her body started reacting before her mouth did. She should have turned him away, she knew, but the look on his face was nothing like the cocky expression that she'd seen before.
"Well…"
"I won't cause you any trouble at all," he said, his voice almost pleading. It was a strange change from the first time that they had met.
"I need to get to work," Caroline countered, hoping that would get her out of the situation. Hoping that she could get herself time to think about it, at least.
"Let me give you a ride," he told her. She pinched her lips together, looked over at his car and thought of the beat-up junker in her garage.
"I'll need a ride home tonight."
"Just say a time."
"Look, I'm not saying I'll agree to anything, but I'll think about it."
He seemed to accept that. She stepped inside, grabbed her purse, drank her coffee in a deep, burning-hot mouthful, and stepped back out. Shannen O'Brien was already in his car, the lights illuminating the whole driveway, the passenger door standing open.
She settled in beside him. The leather seats were comfortable, but if he had no place to stay then it was much, much too small to sleep in, she thought.
"Thank you," she said. "I'm sorry if I was rude, I just—"
"I get that a lot," he said.
"And I'd rather, you know, if you have to do stuff like…"
"Keep it quiet?"
She'd meant to say 'Don't do it around me.' "Yeah," she agreed.
"Of course." They drove for a little while in silence. A mile and a half away from the hospital, his phone chirped, the display lighting up the inside of the car.
Caroline silently disapproved as he reached down and picked it up, swiping at the screen with his thumb.
"Fuck," he said, seemingly unconscious of her presence. "I gotta go."
"Wait, what? You can't just drop me, I'm still thirty minutes away if I have to walk."
"I'm really sorry about this, but it's on the other side of town and if I don't make it I'm so fucked."
Caroline stared at him wide-eyed as he pulled over.
"I'll make it up to you," he said. She somehow wasn't sure how in the world he was going to make anything up to her, but if he managed it then she was going to be very surprised.
4
Caroline ignored the fact that her feet hurt; it was part of her life, now, and the sooner that she got used to it, the better. Some time in the past century, she'd been left to walk to work, but it was so long ago that it felt like nothing more than another item in the pile of things that needed to be dealt with.
So she did the same thing she did with everything else that was causing trouble: she closed off the memory, planned on an Uber ride home, and a long hot bath to scald away the soreness if she could be bothered to do any of it.
There was, after all, that bottle of wine, still left open. There was always something that she had to lean on to get herself through the day and today, that was what she was going to use, right or wrong.
She let out a long breath and followed behind. Her duties were no different than they had been any of the previous days, and she was finally starting, just a bit, to feel as if she were starting to figure out how she was supposed to go about them.
The phone that buzzed in her pocket was a surprise. She pulled it loose and settled back against a wall. A moment's much-needed rest was all she could ask for, at this point.
"Do you need me for anything else?" Caroline hoped she didn't sound too hopeful.
"Go on," Sarah said. "You're free."
The older woman turned back to her papers, making marks with a ballpoint pen, and for a moment Caroline almost felt bad. Then again, she reasoned, it wasn't as if Sarah was 'on' either. Her hair was down, her eyes a little out of focus, and she gave every impression of being minutes from walking out the door herself.
Sarah thumbed across the screen and the message popped up. She still didn't recognize the number, but this time she at least recognized the messenger, no matter how tired she was. 'Work going alright?' Her head started to hurt in frustra
tion.
It was going better than it had when she'd had to deal with him, that was for certain.
'Why, you hoping to drop me in the middle of nowhere again?'
Caroline started working her hair free of the ponytail she'd pulled it into, shaking her scalp to try to get at least a little bit of blood flowing into it again. There were two separate places she could get coffee on the way to the front entrance and she'd need to hit at least one of them.
'I said I'm sorry. What do I have to do to make it up to you? I'll buy dinner.'
She made another face and dropped the phone into her pocket, poured the coffee into a Styrofoam cup, added a liberal amount of sugar, and decided to text back.
'Come get me, then.'
She didn't much expect how quickly he'd text back that he was waiting outside. She hurried her pace and drank deeply from the coffee. It was only barely warm, which did wonders for her ability to drink it quickly. As she tossed the cup into a trash bin, she saw him outside.
Shannen O'Brien stood by his low-slung coupe watching her as she came out with an expression that looked startlingly like interest. He was probably thinking about that room he was hoping for, but she couldn't help wondering what else he planned on getting out of his stay there.
Caroline reminded herself more than she was planning to remind him, that he wasn't going to get anything else out of it. Assuming he didn't piss her off enough again to get herself out of a room altogether.
"You have a decent day?"
"It started a little slow."
He made a pained expression and looked at the ground. "Yeah."
"That's it?"
"It's not really worth talking about. You getting in, or what?"
She got in, dropping her stuff into the foot well behind her before she pulled the seat belt across her body. He watched her openly, and pins and needles spread across her body decidedly without her permission.
"Where are you taking me for dinner, then, boss-man?"
"What do you like?"
"I like someone else paying for my dinner."
She left out the part where she would barely be able to pay for her own supper more than once a year on her birthday. It was a treat and a half and as much as she appreciated it, it was also the only thing keeping her from sending him packing.
"So how's the hospital?"
"Why do you care?"
"I don't. You worked there long?"
"Only a week now," she answered, truthfully.
"And what about, uh… Lara?"
"Deborah?"
"Is that her name? I know it ended with an 'a.'"
"She's probably going to be fine when she finds another place that will hire someone who sleeps with patients."
"That's a shame," he answered, but his conversational tone told her that he didn't feel especially bad. It was like someone who's lost a television on an earthquake: a shame, but not something anyone could have helped.
"Yeah, I guess. I can't imagine what she was thinking. She couldn't have just not realized."
"I might have had something to do with it," he said. There was the bareliest shadow of a smile on his face, like he'd done something to be pleased with himself for.
She soured. "I thought you wanted to stay at my place."
"I'll be on my best behavior, scout's honor."
She looked over at him as he raised his hands in a three-fingered salute. He didn't look anything like a boy scout, and even now all she could convince herself of was that he was making a perverse mockery of the entire organization.
"Just make sure you don't get any ideas about what you think I might be interested in."
"Of course," he replied, his voice solemn to the point that she suspected him of bullshitting. "I wouldn't dream of it, Miss Boss."
"Don't call me Miss Boss. If you're going to call me anything, call me Caroline, and be a little more obedient than you were in the hospital. What happened anyways?"
He looked over at her with a raised eyebrow. "Why does it matter?"
"Why won't you tell me?"
"I'll tell you if it matters, but far as I was concerned it wasn't a big deal. Honestly, y'all kept me too long. If you just let me go when I'm feeling better, maybe I don't get bored and start going after your pretty lady-nurses."
"I'm sure that somehow, you'll be able to figure out how to keep your hands to yourself, eventually."
"Oh, if I'd seen you beforehand, I'd have known to keep my hands to myself, at least a little longer." He winked and laughed, and Caroline couldn't keep her sour attitude up much longer.
He had confidence, she had to give him that. There were plenty of other things that Caroline didn't doubt for a minute that he'd rather that she give him, but she wasn't about to make that mistake.
As long as at least one of them knew where to draw the line, she could afford to enjoy the attention, even if it was just for a little bit.
He set his hands back on the wheel and that was when she noticed them. His knuckles were split wide open, and the thin gauze and athletic tape that covered them wasn't enough to cover up the dark stain of blood on them.
Caroline shivered at the thought of what he'd done with his hands to make them look like that. If he wasn't going to tell her then he wasn't going to tell her. There was no getting around that. But how long would it be before she found out how he got those injuries? And when she did, how bad could it turn out to be?
5
Caroline's jaw set and she sucked in a breath. She'd been in hospitals almost every day for the better part of three weeks now. Before that, it had only been most days, and she'd been studying for longer than that. Years. But somehow, this part of it never got any easier. Everything else was easy, compared to the visits she made on her day off.
No matter what else she did, no matter how hard the work was, she was able to manage it. Sarah was a big help, in that regard. Having a woman around who was as tough as nails and never seemed to let any of it touch her. Well, mostly never did, at least.
She'd let one thing touch her. After a week with Shannen in the spare room, it wasn't hard to imagine what had set her on edge about going to check on him. He was terminally allergic to being agreeable in any way, shape, or form. That was as his roommate; she could only imagine how bad it must have been to have him as a responsibility.
Seeing her father, though, was an entirely different situation, and one that she wasn't happy about in the least bit. There was too much going on in her mind, too much that she didn't want to think about, and it was only with a great cost that she managed to hide her constant worry.
It was one thing to feel okay about everything when she was away, when he was far away from her. When she was just trying to accept her place in the whole situation. It was entirely another to look down at him, at his rapidly-fading body, and remind herself that he'd be as right as rain any day now, as long as she just kept the faith.
She cursed herself for not having gone to church in months. It wasn't so hard to justify to herself that she needed the time, that she was too busy. School, work, and everything all came together to make her far, far too busy. At least, that was what she told herself.
The reality, she feared, was something a little bit different. She couldn't lie to herself forever, even if she wanted to. She could lie to anyone else, to Dad and to Sarah and to Shannen, but deep down, she would always know that she was panicking.
She took her deep breath, held her stomach tight, and forced herself to step into the room.
"Dad, hey."
He looked up at her with a smile that was reserved for these visits, and then he looked away as a cough started to rack his chest, harder than she had realized was even possible for a man of his now diminutive size.
"Caroline."
"You're looking good." It was a lie, but she had to say it. She couldn't pretend halfway. If she was lying then she was lying.
He coughed again. "Good," he said. His voice was rough like sandpaper, which was the way it sh
ould have been. Everything else about him had changed so much, but that had stayed the same. "Because I feel like shit."
She laughed, and for a moment she thought she was going to lose her composure and with it, any hope that she could keep a happy face on for him.
"Did I tell you I got a roommate?"
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," she said. Then, all of a sudden, the entire conversation seemed like it was a very perfectly bad idea. She wasn't exactly going to tell him who she had living at the house, was she? She wasn't going to tell him that some big, muscular guy was sleeping in the bed across the hall.
"What about her?"
"I don't know," Caroline answered, glad that he'd taken the liberty of assuming the gender. "Shannen is, well, something else, I guess."
"Oh yeah?"
"I don't know how to put it exactly. Different."
"Different good?"
"I don't really know," Caroline answered, truthfully. It was the first honest thing that she'd said to her father the entire time, and as much as it embarrassed her to have to admit that, she didn't exactly have any other way to do it, either. "Different."
"Nice?" Something in Caroline's expression must have answered the question for him, because a moment later he decided to rephrase the question. "I mean, she's not a horrid bitch or anything, right?"
"No, I don't think that's right." Caroline made an effort to choose her words carefully. "She's just, I don't know. Complicated. Tough, hard to read. 'Taciturn.'"
He raised an eyebrow. "And how do you spell that?"
"Why," Caroline teased. "Going to write it down in your diary?"
"Maybe; you don't know." He turned to the TV. "You know, they let me change the channel to whatever I want. Somehow, now matter how badly I want to change it, I keep watching this damn soap opera that's been running since before you were born. Why's that, I wonder?"
"Good taste?"
He barked a laugh, dry and rasping and full of vinegar. "Hardly. Your mother used to watch it. I always told her it would rot her brain."
