Little Moments

by Madison Street

  By the time I get home, it’s eleven thirty at night and I still have to get ready for work the next day. Soaking my sore body in a warm bath, I relax every muscle and let the water silk around each crevice. The soft bubbles cover my skin as I rub a cloth all over it, exfoliating it into a smooth surface.

  Roman

  A SURGING JOLT of pain wakes me from my sleep. As a reaction to the intensifying pain, my hands immediately fly to my face, desperate to soothe the irritation. The excruciating pain singes the skin on my face as I feel liquid drip down my cheek. The gauze that was taped is now displaced as my good hand tries to apply pressure on the it.

  Breathing through the agony, tears build as I press the button to call the nurse. The intercom chimes and I immediately call for help. Dr. Ferguson and Melanie come rushing into the room and toward the bed. Their eyes fall upon my face and they gasp at the sight of the source of my discomfort.

  Dr. Ferguson keeps calm, looking me dead in my eyes. “Roman, the blisters on the burn have burst. We are going to have to debride them and clean up the puss that oozed out. This will be very painful. We can give you a sedative if you want it.”

  As I listen to his suggestion, my breathing becomes hitched as the panic and torture build inside. I glance at Melanie who’s rolling on latex gloves and getting the swabs and a new roll of gauze ready.

  Gripping the bed railing with my left hand, I let out a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “Just do it.”

  Dr. Ferguson nods and calls out for two other nurses to assist them. Amanda and Jackie hold my shoulders down as Dr. Ferguson and Melanie work on my face. My eyes close shut as I hold my breath, clenching my jaw. I feel their fingers rub against my inflamed skin and I cry out in agony. Someone stuffs a piece of cloth into my mouth ensuring I don’t bite my tongue while enduring the misery. For the next couple minutes, I am in torture. Teardrops spill down my face as they continue to pry open and clean my wounds. The sting of my tears rolling down the burns doesn’t help either as the salt burns the skin even worse. Groaning in discomfort, my heart pounds against my chest as Melanie rubs the cotton swab on my face.

  Dr. Ferguson instructs her to make sure she gets all around the popped blisters and over the new open sores. Following his instruction, she steadily applies the ointment and within seconds of its application, my fiery skin starts to cool. My haggard breathing calms as the pounding in my chest starts to subside.

  After the ointment is applied thoroughly, he tapes new gauze bandages on the entire right side of my face. The bandage evens blocks the corner of my right eye, so I can barely make out what they’re doing now.

  Dr. Ferguson instructs the nurses to let go, informing us that the procedure is complete. He and Melanie remove their latex gloves, and she disposes of the old dressings and the used swabs. Jackie and Amanda follow Melanie outside while Dr. Ferguson stays with me a little longer.

  “You all right there son?”

  I nod slowly as my body calms down. “Yes. That hurt like hell.”

  “Yeah well, we’re not out just yet. Since a few of the blisters burst, there are now open sores on your face. Now, we applied some antibiotic cream on them to prevent infection from spreading, but I want to be honest with you: there’s still a chance the sores could get infected. I’ll ask my team to do their due diligence and check on your dressings every hour to ensure everything is running smoothly.”

  I swallow hard, soaking in his warning. “What…what happens if it’s infected?”

  “Well, depending on the root of infection, it can be treated with antibiotics. If it’s still located on the upper most layer of your skin, then the ointment will kill the germs.”

  I hesitate. “And…if it’s deeper than that?”

  “Then, we’ll have to send you to surgery and cut out the infected skin layers.”

  My mind races a million miles a minute as I listen to the doc tell me the last thing I want to hear. Looking away toward the window, I try to forget what he just said, but it’s no use; I’m already in a pissed off mood.

  My voice grumbles, “Will I have a scar?”

  He responds firmly, “Yes, there will be scarring, but as long as the infection is controlled and caught early, I’m certain the scarring will be minimal.” He exits the room soon after and I wallow alone in my sorrow. Glancing at the time on my cell it shines one forty-five AM and my face falls as I realize Melanie’s about to head home soon.

  I turn my head and stare up at the ceiling, as I can’t fall back asleep. I imagine life back at the bakery, helping Aunt Maggie make a couple wedding cakes or better yet, some chocolate cream pies. She’d somehow end up getting flour all over; well, let’s face it, it’s inevitable. I’d blast some of my favorite tunes on the stereo and we’d dance along to the music as we mix our delectable desserts.

  I’d pour the cream, flour, butter, and sugar into the mixing bowl and watch as the components combine into a tasty batter. In between cycles, I’d stick my finger inside, scrape it against the inner wall, and lick the scrumptious batter clean off my finger.

  Uncle Vinny would stop in after a hard day’s work and give Aunt Maggie and me a warm hello. He’d say he’s making his unforgettable stuffed shells and I’d listen as my stomach yearned for his homemade meal.

  As the cakes would cook in the oven, I’d spend the rest of my time helping customers with their orders, boxing up cakes, pies, and cookies, and slicing fresh Italian bread. I’d wish them a good day and tell them to come back soon.

  And then, she would walk into the bakery. Her scent would carry across the counter as it made its way to my nose; I’d know her fragrance anywhere. I’d greet her with a beaming smile and she’d order her favorite dessert. I’d pass it to her free of charge, because I couldn’t possibly take any money from her. I’d watch her sit at her usual table and somehow, I’d muster up the courage to go talk to her. We’d end up talking for hours about anything and everything.

  When it’s time for her to leave, I’d touch her hand, look deep into her emerald eyes, and tell her how she makes my heart skip. Just as she spreads her lips to respond, a soft knock startles me from the daydream and in walks the beauty herself.

  She peeks her head inside. “Hi, I uh…I thought that I’d stop by before I left and see how you’re doing.”

  Glancing at the clock, I turn to her. “It’s thirty minutes after your shift.”

  She walks in and sits in her usual chair. “I always end up staying a little late anyway. It’s no big deal. How are you feeling?”

  Pushing the pain aside, I shrug my shoulders. “It could be worse.”

  “You always say that.”

  “Well, it’s the truth.”

  She smiles as a strand of hair falls in front of her face. She quickly brushes it behind her ear and beams bright. “So, I wanted to ask you a question.”

  I sit up, ready for her request. “Yes?”

  At first she peeks out the window, nervously biting her bottom lip. Nervousness spreads across her face as she looks out into the night sky. She lets out a deep breath and asks, “Remember the time at the bakery in high school, the day it rained?”

  With wide eyes, I reply, “Uh huh.”

  “Yeah well, you told me that you wanted to be a firefighter and I recall you wanted to tell me why but you never had the chance. I was wondering if you could tell me now.”

  Her question knocks the air out of my lungs as a swirl of emotions flow all around. Is this it? Is now the time to tell her about my parents?

  I glance a peek at her beautiful face. Her eyes sparkle underneath the twinkling moonlight, desperate to hear my answer.

  I close my eyes and exhale, mentally preparing myself for the memories that are going to resurface. I tell her to pull the chair closer as I open up to her.

  With a low voice, I begin, “My mother died in an apartment fire when I was eleven years old.”

  Her face fills with shock as she gasps and covers her mouth with her hands. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry
, I didn’t mean to pry. If you don’t want to talk about it I completely understand.”

  I brush off her apology. “No need to feel sorry. I want to tell you.”

  “Oh, okay.” She cuddles up in the chair, resting her hands and head on her knees.

  “It was in the middle of the night. The smell of smoke woke me up from my sleep and the sirens from the trucks outside startled me out of my bed. I remember hearing people scream from the hallway; the walls in that building were pretty thin. The only thing I remember wanting was to find my mother. Her bedroom was adjacent to mine but the smoke was so thick, I could hardly see. Debris from the upstairs apartments had started to fall and the flames had already managed to heat up the doorknob by then. Goodness, I was so scared, but not for me, for my mother. I had managed to get out of my room, but couldn’t get to hers. I remember her screaming for me, calling out my name as the living room and the foyer burst into flames. Eventually, two firefighters found me. One covered me in a fire blanket, and the other rescued my mother.”

  Dredging up past memories sent my system into an emotional overload as tears filled my eyes. Images of my screaming mother started flashing in my mind. My heart broke into a million pieces all over again. Shutting my eyes for a brief pause, my fingers wiped away a few escaping tears.

  My voice started to crack. “The plan was to get out of the building as soon as possible, but it was on the verge of collapsing. We ended up having to jump out of one of the windows onto a trampoline. Just as we jumped out, there was an explosion…and my mother and her rescuer didn’t make it.”

  I look to her and see tears cascading down her face. She sniffs softly and grabs a tissue to wipe away her tears. “And…your father?”

  I murmur, “My father died from cancer a few years before the fire. I was lucky enough to have the chance to say goodbye to him. With my mom, it was a different story. After she died, my aunt and uncle took me in, and they made me the man I am today.”

  A soft cry escapes her lips as she reaches out and grabs hold of my left hand. She squeezes it softly and whispers, “I’m sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine growing up without my parents.”

  My eyes drift down to see our hands entwining with one another. She notices our hold and quickly lets go, bringing her hand back to her side.

  I clear my throat. “Uh yes, I was lucky enough to have my aunt and uncle. I don’t know what I would’ve done without them.”

  We lock eyes and just for a moment, I feel like I’m looking into her soul. Warmth and love spread all over my body as I have the urge to reach out and touch her face, to feel her smooth skin underneath my flat palm, to see her blonde locks curl around my fingers. Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink as we stare and gaze into each other’s eyes.

  A car horn blares outside, jilting us from our daydream. She looks at the time and shoots out of the chair. “Sorry, I have to go. It’s much later than I realized.” She puts the chair back in its usual spot and heads to the door. Just before she exits, she smiles at me and murmurs, “Thank you for telling me.”

  I return the smile. “You’re welcome.”

  Melanie

  LIFE HAS BEEN SO HECTIC the past couple days. With the Christmas holiday approaching, everyone is either getting stressed or getting ready to go on vacation, thus more stress. I had originally planned to take a few days off and head up to Long Island, but I don’t see that happening anymore.

  I haven’t been able to shake Roman’s past since he told me. I can’t explain what I felt in that room that night. It wasn’t pity, nor was it sadness. I mean, yes, it’s downright heartbreaking and awful, but I can’t shake this feeling; this pull that I feel toward him won’t stop.

  At work, I find myself thinking about him and wanting to go talk to him. But, with most people taking days off, my rotations have gotten longer and longer. I don’t have as much time as I had before to easily sit with him for a while. In fact, the last few times I went to check on him, Dr. Ferguson was with me or his family was visiting. We haven’t really had a chance to talk since he told me his story, which is a good thing.

  Gia warned me about getting too close to a patient, and my job is my life. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. Trying to explain to her that Roman is just my patient was harder than I thought. Even she could tell there is a connection and she hasn’t even seen us together.

  On the way to work, I stop off at the store to pick up a small gift for Raya and Duke’s new home. They purchased a bigger house, still on the beach, but just a little larger. I can see it in their eyes that they’re ready to have more kids, and I’m happy for them. Seeing them together isn’t as hard for me as it used to be.

  It certainly wasn’t easy seeing my ex-boyfriend marry one of my best friends. But, when two people are in love and destined to be together, who am I to stand in their way? I wouldn’t want someone to do that to me so why would I go about doing it to someone else?

  As I glance around the gift shop, I come upon little trinkets and cute Christmas decorations. Oh, crap. I need to put up my tree. I walk around the store looking at their holiday displays and head to the back to check out their book section. Looking for something good, I scan the shelves for anything that might pop out at me. Yes, I am one to judge a book by its cover, but can you blame me? The cover is the one thing that draws my attention. Once it’s grabbed, then the synopsis has to suck me in. I’ve managed to read so many stories from authors who are still unknown and I’ve enjoyed every last one of them. My eyes catch a new find and I purchase the book in quick fashion. Once I’m all checked out, I head toward the hospital and hope that today I’ll have a little more time to speak to Roman.

  As I walk out of the locker room and walk toward the nurses station to clock in, Amanda pulls me off to the side.

  She whispers, “Hey, heads up. Your boy got some bad news today and he’s not taking it very well.”

  I scowl. “What do you mean my boy?”

  “Don’t be foolish. Anyway, Dr. Ferguson found an infection in his face, so I had to assist him and cut away at the underlying layers. It wasn’t a pretty sight. His face is going to have some definite scarring.”

  My eyes widen. “Oh, god. How is he?”

  “Like I said, not good. But that wasn’t the worst part. His other burns are fine, in fact, almost healed. It’s his spine. He had a CT scan earlier and it didn’t look too good. Dr. Ferguson said he would need lots of physical therapy and said he wouldn’t be able to go back to the fire department. I mean, he said there’s a probable chance that he won’t pass the physical exam, especially having to withstand the weight of the tank on his back.”

  “I…I can’t imagine what he must be going through.” I turn to start walking toward his room, but Amanda stops me.

  “Look, he needs some space right now. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go in there. His family was here earlier and they were all pretty shaken up by it. The guy was just told he could never be a firefighter again. His career is over. He probably wants to be alone right now.”

  Heeding her warning, I agree and check in on the other patients first. After two hours of paperwork, washing bedpans, cleaning up vomit, and completing my normal duties, I decide to check in on him.

  Knocking on his door first, I push it open and peek inside. His eyes are glued to the TV. Stepping inside and shutting the door behind me, I glance at the TV. He’s watching a rerun episode of The Walking Dead, one of my favorites.

  I smile as I step closer to his bed. “Hey, do you need anything?”

  He keeps his stare directed at the TV. “Nope.”

  I glance at his dinner tray. “You haven’t eaten. Want me to feed you again?” I ask, offering a humorous gesture.

  He ignores me, still staring at the TV. “Come on, you need to eat before it gets cold.” I step around the bed and push the tray of food closer to him. At that instant, his hand swings and knocks into the food tray, causing it to crash to the ground.

  His dark eyes
bore into mine as he scolds me. “I’m not hungry. Just get out.”

  I sigh. “Listen, I know you must be hurting but–”

  He barks at me, “But what? You have no fucking idea what I’m going through, so why don’t you mind your own business and leave me alone? Don’t come in here unless you’re doing your job.”

  I keep my face calm and hard, not letting him see how badly he just hurt me. I bend down to clean up the food on the floor and toss it in the trash. I rush out of the room at lightning speed and race to the female bathroom. Holding back the tears, I tell myself that he’s lashing out at me because he’s angry and broken. It’s nothing that I particularly did to upset him, but seeing him so enraged really jolted me. I guess Amanda was right.

  I don’t return to his room for the rest of my shift.

  ******

  “Melanie could please assist me with the patient in room three? I’d like to take a look at his brace and need your help.”

  “Yes, right away sir.” I jump up from my desk chair and follow Dr. Ferguson into Roman’s room. It’s been eighteen hours since I’ve seen him and I hope he’s in a much better mood this time. I follow Dr. Ferguson inside and listen as he greets Roman.

  “Hello again Roman. Let’s take a look at your back shall we?” He walks to him as I follow and stand on the opposite of the bed. Roman avoids eye contact with me.

  Dr. Ferguson instructs Roman to try and sit up in bed as high as he can lift his chest. With much struggle, Roman slowly manages to sit up, and I can’t help but smile at how far he’s come in such a short time.

  Dr. Ferguson opens Roman’s hospital gown, exposing his chest and the TLSO covering wrapped around his lower back. “Now Melanie, hold him steady while I loosen the brace.”

  I nod, following his instruction. My hand grabs hold of Roman’s shoulders and a slight tingle shocks me as my skin makes contact with his. A low gasp escapes me, but I lay my head low, trying to keep cool.