Who'd Have Thought

by G. Benson

  “That’d eventually ruin it. One person knows, who tells someone, and so on.”

  He nodded, thoughtful. “Yeah. You normally an honest person?”

  “I think it’s the easiest way to be in the long run. Aren’t you?”

  There was nothing joking about his expression now. He sipped his beer slowly. “I learned the value of lies young. My entire family did. It’s not lying that screwed everything up.”

  What was that supposed to mean? Hayden leaned forward so far she almost fell off her chair. His expression had darkened. Something clouded the look in his eye. He looked sad, Hayden realized. Sad and small and young. “Wanna talk about it?”

  “You really don’t know?”

  “I—well, no.”

  “Huh.” His nail flicked over the label on his beer, but his eyes stayed trained on her. “I mean, my sister is really good at the keeping-everything-close-to-her-chest thing. I thought I was good? But I still thought she would have given you something.”

  “Not a thing.” Hayden felt a weird, guilty leap of excitement in her stomach. She shouldn’t be prying. At all. Sam had made it clear she would tell Hayden more when she was ready. But Jon seemed a part of it, and if he wanted to tell Hayden something, surely that was his choice?

  “She still hasn’t forgiven herself, then.”

  “What?” Hayden kind of blurted it out in her eagerness at getting any kind of information.

  “Oh, just—nothing.” And with that he shook his shaggy head. “Wouldn’t want to bore you. Besides, I’m with you—the truth is far better in the long run.”

  The door opened, and they both turned. Sam stood in the doorway, looking from one to the other. She had two plastic bags of to-go containers in her hand. It smelled divine.

  “Jonathon.” The level gaze that made Sam’s interns melt landed on Jon. “I thought I told you to call from now on. I don’t live alone.”

  Hayden swung her head to eye him, and he shrugged.

  “I must’ve misunderstood. Besides, Hayden doesn’t mind.”

  “You two certainly look cozy.” Sam closed the door and walked over to the kitchen, placing her bag on the floor next to the counter and two plastic bags of food across from Hayden. “Which didn’t take long.”

  Hayden tried to ignore the way her heart was going too fast. What had Sam not forgiven herself about? It was so hard not to pry for more. So instead, she said, “Well, you stole my cat, so I thought I’d steal your brother.”

  Jon, fork in hand, stepped up to the bags and pulled out one of the containers. “Never worry, dear sister. You brought food, so my affections are securely in your favor.” He pulled the lid off, and Sam smacked his hand as he dug his fork in.

  “That’s supposed to be for Hayden and me.”

  He pouted. “But you have so much.”

  “I didn’t know what she liked.”

  So she’d bought enough to feed five people? That was hilarious. And kind of cute.

  “Well, you’d think that would be a question you asked someone before you married them.”

  Hayden laughed, and Jon threw her a wink, shoveling his fork into his mouth while Sam pulled out plates and more cutlery.

  “At least use a plate, you heathen.” Sam pushed one along to him, and he ignored it, opening his mouth to chew sloppily.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “You were raised better than that.” Sam tugged the containers over and started opening them, pushing them into the middle with a spoon so Hayden could put food on her plate.

  “Was I, though?” he asked. His tone was light, but still held a note of seriousness Hayden didn’t understand.

  Sam clearly understood, because she caught his eye and even gave him a wry smile. “When it comes to your table manners, yes.”

  This was clearly a conversation Hayden couldn’t really take part in, so instead she piled some pad thai onto her plate and squeezed lemon over it. With her shirtsleeves rolled up, Sam took the same container and added some to her own plate. She stood in the kitchen, across from Hayden and next to her much younger brother, eating right there, the picture of domesticity. Her cheeks were pink, probably from the outside air, and Hayden felt something lunge low in her belly. She took a huge forkful of noodles, hoping swallowing them would bury whatever that was.

  Jon rested his hip against the counter, still eating from the container. “Anyone want some of this?”

  “After you’ve massacred it and pushed your saliva-covered fork through it?” Sam asked.

  Hayden raised her fork. “I’ll take some.”

  “Clearly you two are a friendship made in heaven.” Sam twirled her fork on her plate, elegant even with that simple motion. She had delicate, slender wrists, with muscles that stood out on her forearms. Surgeon arms. Delicate hands. Strength that could surprise a person.

  Every time she spoke to her brother, affection layered her tone. Something softened in her eyes. The lines around them showed more as she tried to hide exasperated smiles. It was nice to watch, as if Hayden was witnessing something private and a little breakable.

  Jon winked at Hayden and slid the container over, rummaging for another container. He opened it and breathed it in. “Mm. Chicken.”

  Hayden stole a few forkfuls of what he’d been eating onto her plate. Sam watched her. “You’re encouraging him.”

  “I’m doing no such thing,” Hayden said, and all of that softness was directed at her. Another swoop-like feeling, low in her stomach, and Hayden swallowed, looking away to go back to her food.

  Jon cleared his throat. “You two sure you’re not really married?”

  Sam huffed a laugh. “We’ve only been acting like it far too much.”

  Hayden made herself smile. “Clearly,” she said. Yet it had a weird aftertaste, as if she hadn’t really meant it.

  Eventually, Frank reappeared, and Hayden scooped him up into her lap while she sat on the stool. He sat, rumbling a purr, his eyes closed as she scratched his head. She shot both Jon and Sam a haughty look over the counter.

  Sam swallowed, something glinting in her eyes, a smile playing at her lips. “He slept on my bed last night.”

  Hayden gasped, aghast. “No?”

  “He did.” Smugness played on her own face now. “All night.”

  Hayden stared down at Frank, his eyes still closed, his purr loud. “You traitor.”

  Jon snorted, and Sam laughed, the sound low and wrapping around them all.

  CHAPTER 18

  A month later and stumbling home from her third night shift in a row, Hayden paused at the door with her key in the lock.

  Would it be there again?

  Maybe it wouldn’t.

  She tried to quell the hope that swirled in her.

  She turned the key and walked in, pausing in the kitchen.

  There it was, in the oven.

  Pizza.

  Hayden all but salivated.

  Each morning she’d stumbled in from night shift thus far, she’d come home to something ready to eat. The first morning had been pasta: rich and creamy and filling. The second, a baked potato topped with chili.

  And now, pizza.

  Hayden did a happy wiggle and turned the oven on, wanting nothing more than to hug Sam. Food often had that effect on her. Sam knew what days Hayden was working the night shift, and Hayden knew when to expect to run into her if she was on call, thanks to the rosters they put up on the fridge each week.

  But really, they weren’t important, as they talked to each other about their shifts now. Over food at the counter, sometimes with Jon, or on the sofa at the end of a long day. Sometimes they talked about shifts and sometimes Sam asked about Hayden’s family. Sometimes Hayden wasn’t really sure what they talked about.

  Hayden didn’t ask about Sam’s family, even as the questions about Jon’s revelations burned away at her, desperate to be asked.

  And this new tradition of food was one she could get behind.

  With the timer set for ten min
utes, Hayden went for a shower.

  Under the hot spray, she breathed in the chemical smell of her face wash and lathered it in her hair, scrubbing it in. It took five seconds of that to realize what she’d done, and she sighed, feeling dramatic as overtired tears welled. She washed the face wash out of her hair, used shampoo instead, and then put in the conditioner. Once she’d applied face wash to her actual face, she washed everything off, sighed again, and stood under the spray for a moment to collect her strength.

  Her brain was so useless on night shift. It was as if she concentrated so hard at work that as soon as she got home, her brain gave up on her and melted.

  But who cared? Maybe she’d discovered the best way to wash hair.

  She got out and pulled on comfy, warm clothes, tugging on socks. Even in the well-heated apartment, it was obvious the temperature had really fallen outside.

  Bleary-eyed, Hayden went back to the kitchen and paused. Sam was there, a coffee in hand, put-together and smelling like she, too, was freshly showered.

  “Hey.” Hayden smiled genuinely, half-asleep.

  “Good morning. Or night.” Sam looked up. She was dressed up: a tailored jacket over a work shirt. It hugged her waist and Hayden had the urge to slip her hand under it and run it over the soft shirt, feeling the line of her waist, the dip above her hip.

  Her fingers actually reached out to do it and she pulled them back against her leg. That would have been weird.

  “Not in the hospital today?” Hayden asked.

  Sam shook her head. “I’m participating in a lecture for a neuro conference, on short notice. Also, I turned your pizza off.”

  “Thanks. And thanks for making it.”

  “It’s no problem. I remember my internship. And residency.” Sam gave an unimpressed look, as close as she’d probably get to a grimace, and took a sip of her coffee. “It wasn’t nice. I also found these.” She held something up.

  Hayden squinted at Sam. Her glasses were foggy. “My keys?”

  “They were next to the milk in the fridge.”

  “What?”

  “Your keys were in the fridge.”

  “I don’t even remember opening the fridge.”

  “I’ll leave them here on the counter.” Sam looked far too amused.

  “Thanks.” Hayden pulled the pizza out onto a plate and grabbed a knife and fork. She sat down across from Sam, who was still smirking. “What?”

  “Keys in the fridge? Really?”

  “Hey. I washed my hair with face wash this morning. Keys in the fridge is nothing.”

  Sam was now definitely chuckling at her. “Really?”

  “Yup. I’m just glad it wasn’t toothpaste.”

  “How could you wash your hair with toothpaste?”

  “Because it was in the shower.” Hayden started hacking at the pizza with the cutlery. It smelled like melted cheese and tomato sauce. Heaven.

  “Why?”

  Hayden paused with a forkful of pizza on the way to her mouth. “Because I brush my teeth in the shower?”

  “You brush your teeth in the shower?” Sam sounded horrified.

  “As my wife, that’s probably something you should know.”

  “If I’d known that, I would never have married you.”

  Hayden chewed happily and swallowed. So much cheese. “Lucky for me you didn’t know, then. Now you’re stuck with me, for better or worse.”

  “I’m clearly the lucky one.”

  “Clearly.”

  Sam’s eyes were alight, laughing, and Hayden grinned at her sleepily. It struck her that she really didn’t want Sam to go to work, that having her there was comfortable, nice. She wished, then, that she could ask her to skip the conference and hang out. She wanted her to be there when she woke up.

  Sam looked down and away, and stepped back to rinse her coffee cup.

  Turning back around, she gave Hayden a nod. “I may see you at the hospital tonight if I get called in.”

  She didn’t move, as if she didn’t want to go anywhere either.

  “Good luck with your thing today,” Hayden said.

  “Thank you.” And Sam finally walked out.

  The door closed behind her, leaving a silence that was heavy in the kitchen. It was tempting to stand up and go call her back.

  Instead, Hayden dropped the knife and fork on her plate and picked up the pizza with her hand, making quick work of it. That was probably the first time she’d ever used cutlery for pizza. Once done, deliciously full, she headed to her room to brush her teeth—not in the shower, since she’d done that already—and crawl into her bed. Frank was a blob under the blankets, already there and waiting.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Pause compressions, we need to check the rhythm.”

  Hayden stepped back from the bed; everyone did. All of their focus returned to the monitor. Asystole, flat line. Still.

  “Resume compressions.”

  So she did. On autopilot, Hayden pushed down a third of the depth of the chest at the usual rhythm. In her head, she sang another one bites the dust, a morbid joke, but it really did help to keep the correct number of beats. After a minute, she called, “Switch.”

  Luce stepped up to the other side of the bed and took over. Hayden stood back, gaze sweeping the scene. The bed was littered with plastic wrappers from sterile syringes, needles, and other such things. The body on the bed stayed inert. He could have been anyone: graying hair, medium build.

  They’d been going for thirty minutes.

  “I’m going to call it.”

  Luce dropped their arms, and they and Hayden shared a look over the bed. It had been a rough night—patients beyond their help on arrival, an underage drinker who was in ICU, and now this.

  “Time of death, 0213.”

  And with that, some people disappeared, and others stayed to help. They detached the machines, unclipped cables and cords, pulled out IVs and intubation tubes—anything that would make seeing the body harder for the family.

  Nothing would make it easier, though.

  When it was all cleaned up, Hayden looked at Luce. “Need anything else?”

  They gave a shake of their head. “No. Thanks. The doctor is telling the family.”

  “Coffee?”

  “You have time?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’d love one.”

  Hayden double checked with the coordinator that she was okay to duck out, washed her hands, and made her way up the stairs to the cafeteria. No coffee cart at this time, just sludge. Maybe she could get them both some chocolate. Hayden hated shifts like this. It was never an easy job, but sometimes it got under your skin. She walked slowly up the steps, her feet echoing. Night was such a strange time in a hospital. Parts of it, like the operating rooms, the ER and intensive care, operated like any other time. Other parts shut down completely and became a ghost town, while wards entered a twilight zone.

  The cafeteria had one lonely man behind the till. He cracked his gum and beamed, the lines in his face so deep it was like someone could disappear into them. “What’ll it be, hon?”

  “Two coffees and these two giant chocolate bars.”

  “One of those nights?”

  Hayden nodded.

  “Coming right up.”

  “Make it three?”

  Hayden turned at the voice, smiling easily. “You got called in?”

  “No,” Sam said deadpan. “I just like to hang out here in the middle of the night.”

  “Oh, you’re funny. Very funny.”

  She was in scrubs and a scrub hat, the bright green one that looked like a children’s coloring book had thrown up on it. She was bright-eyed, almost bouncing on her heels. Almost. Sam didn’t do that. But she did look…enthusiastic. “I got called in. It’s an emergency, I haven’t even seen her. They’re prepping her now.”

  “So, some caffeine before you disappear into surgery?”

  “Exactly. It should be a long one.”

  “Anything interesting?”
/>
  “Three-year-old girl hit by a car.”

  “In the early hours of the morning?”

  “They’d been returning from a trip. The details are unclear. She has a severe bleed.”

  “Well, she’s lucky she has you.”

  Red bloomed on Sam’s cheeks, obvious under the harsh lights. Hayden found herself wondering what patterns her freckles would make if she ever got long enough to trace her gaze over them. “She should be fine.”

  “Sorry to interrupt the flirting session, ladies. But I have your coffee.”

  Hayden turned so fast she hit her hand on the counter. Pain flared, and she shook it. “We’re not flirting.”

  He scoffed. “I’m sixty-two years old. I know flirting when I see it.”

  Sam picked up one of the coffees. She oozed confidence, while Hayden felt like an uncoordinated fool.

  “We’re married.” Sam held up her hand, ring catching the light. “Not flirting.”

  He grinned, those lines somehow even deeper. “Well, it’s still flirting. And so it should be. I flirt with my wife every chance I get.”

  Hayden finally snapped herself out of her weird reaction. She jammed the two chocolate bars into her pockets, as well as her staff scrip card, and picked up the coffees. “Well, we’ll make sure to keep at it.”

  “You do that.” And he actually winked at her.

  Hayden followed Sam, who paused at the elevators, hitting the up button. The doors opened instantly.

  “Nice recovery, Hayden.”

  Humor laced her words, and Hayden kept walking for the stairwell door. “Oh, shut up, Sam.”

  But Hayden went back to her shift feeling lighter than before. She walked past the beds that held her patients, her gaze sweeping over them. All was fine. The nurse who had been keeping an eye on them while she was having a quick break gave Hayden a reassuring nod.

  “Why are you smiling?” Luce asked.

  Hayden handed them the coffee over the nurses’ station desk and rested on her elbows, her fingers warming as she clung to her cup.

  “I just saw Sam.”

  “She got called in?”

  “Yeah—a kid who was hit by a car.”

  Luce looked up from the computer they were clicking through. “Oh, her. She came in before my patient coded. She was a mess. I think you were busy dealing with the family that was causing issues earlier, and you missed the entire thing.”