by Chris Zett
“Favorite? Never felt like it to me. I guess she yells at all of us from time to time. Isn’t that part of her job description?” She finished with her chart, saved it, double-checked that it had actually saved, and rose.
“Are you done for today? Do you want to come with us for a beer? A bunch of residents get together at the bar across the street and let off some steam. It’s a Friday tradition.” Courtney winked. “You can even throw some darts and pretend to see a certain face on the board.”
Diana hesitated. She was beat and had been fantasizing about a hot bath for hours. But having a good relationship with her colleagues mattered, especially if Emily continued to give her the cold shoulder. Maybe hearing the others talk about Emily would help her put her own experience into the right perspective. “I’ll be there.”
Diana looked around the bar. The place was nice enough, not too modern, not too dingy, just without character. The particular draw wasn’t the interior decoration or the menu, but the proximity to the hospital. She recognized several nurses, and a group of paramedics still in uniform stood at the bar.
She sneaked a glance at her phone. Only eight thirty. The hour she had spent with the other residents felt like five. They hadn’t even needed five minutes of talk over burgers and beer to get to their favorite topic: the world was unfair. The residents were victims of the system, the older doctors, the nurses, and even the patients. They were all out to get them, especially Emily.
Diana could certainly understand the emotions, but she didn’t share them. She liked Emily, especially the old Emily she had worked with the first few weeks. Her underlying genuine concern about her patients spoke to Diana. Emily wasn’t vindictive but tried to improve the quality of care. Only her methods lacked social skills. But that was no reason to detest her.
Her phone rang, and Diana looked at the display. Mel. Perfect, she could be her ticket out of here. “Mel, hi.”
“Do you have time to talk?”
“Sure, hold on a second.” Diana took some money from her wallet to cover her share and laid it in the middle of the table. “Hey, everyone. I need to go.” She waved her phone. “A friend has an emergency. See you next week.” She slipped on her jacket and left before anyone could ask questions. Outside, she raised the phone back to her ear. “Mel, are you still on?”
Mel chuckled. “Emergency? Did I wreck my car or break my leg?”
“Both? You choose. I just had to get out of there.” Diana tried to zip up her jacket with one hand. The sun had just set, and during the twenty-minute walk home the mild spring air would cool down fast. Everyone thought she was crazy for walking any chance she got, but sleeping the day away in tour buses and faceless hotels for years had given her a craving for being outdoors.
“Bad date?”
“No, just some colleagues. The usual. Whining about work: Everyone’s unfair. Why me. Blah, blah, blah.” She looked at the park entrance. Twilight had set in, so she’d better stay on the safe side and take the long way around. “We all work long hours and get little recognition in return. But we all knew that before we even started med school. They should pour their energy into work instead of complaining.”
Mel just laughed.
“What? I don’t get the joke.”
“Listen to yourself,” Mel said. “During your first residency that was all you did, complaining and bitching. Daily. You sounded like a broken record.”
Diana tried to remember how she had felt years ago. Most of that time was a blur; only vague memories of frustration and exhaustion remained. “Well, okay. Maybe I’m a hypocrite.”
“I think you grew up, like most of us did.”
“I don’t know about that. I had a discussion with my attending today. I tried to talk about a change in the work atmosphere, and she accused me of not being able to take constructive criticism.” Diana again felt Emily’s angry gaze piercing her.
“In the band, you took criticism well. We could always talk about what worked and what didn’t. Not like Katie.” She knew Mel’s tone well enough to picture her rolling her eyes.
Diana groaned. Her ex had a not-so-little diva streak in her. Compared to Katie, everyone seemed reasonable. “Thanks. I guess, the real problem lies somewhere else. She didn’t want to talk about it, but everything changed when we met at the concert two weeks ago. Emily confuses me. She behaved like a supportive mentor one day and like a heartless bitch the next.”
“So, she’s the one who knows.”
“Yeah.” Diana’s steps were the only thing filling the silence. She gave her friend a moment to think about the situation. Diana valued Mel’s opinion because she always tried to see both sides.
“Maybe she doesn’t know how to treat you and hides her insecurities behind curtness. She wouldn’t be the first. She could be as confused as you, just with less social skills. Or maybe she distrusts your motives.”
Diana sighed. It all came back to communication. She had to find an opening to broach the topic again, soon. “Maybe. Thanks. But here I am, complaining about work, and you called to tell me something.”
“It’s okay. That’s what friends are for. I wanted to give you an update about Jen.”
“Jen? The music journalist?” Diana hadn’t expected Mel to keep in touch with her.
“There’s more to Jen than just her job.”
“Probably, but that’s not why she’s meeting with you. She’s trying to get information from you about Eos. About me. Why we gave up the band.”
“Maybe in the beginning, but now she respects that I don’t talk about all that. I think she put the story on ice after we went out for the second time.”
“Went out? Like dating?” Diana ground her teeth. How could Mel do that to her?
“I don’t know if you’d call it dating, but yeah, we’re sleeping together.” Mel sounded defensive. “She’s fun and knows so much about music. We can talk for hours. And not about you.”
Diana unclenched her jaw. Her reaction had been selfish. She could trust Mel. “I’m sorry. I’m happy for you, honestly. You just caught me by surprise. Do you think you could have something serious?”
“Too soon to tell. I’ll let you know before the wedding.”
“For a chance to see you in a white dress, I’d give her my story as a wedding present.” Diana laughed. Talking to Mel was a much better way of unwinding after a shitty day at work than an evening at a bar. If only she and Emily could talk so effortlessly.
Chapter 7
Saturday afternoon, Diana packed the new drumsticks, small snare drums, banjos, and djembes she had bought last week at a sale and drove to the Rainbow Home.
“Diana, my song’s finally finished!” She had just stepped inside the building of the LGBTQ youth center when Freddy engulfed her in a hug. Her mass of tiny black curls bobbed rhythmically as she talked nonstop about her song, her new room in a shared house, the neighbor’s dog, and anything else that had happened to her over the past week.
Diana had a hard time following her as she threw in unfamiliar names and places. All the kids Diana had known years ago had grown out of going to the center, and in the past six weeks Diana had enjoyed getting to know the next generation, including Freddy.
“Wait, slow down, please. You’ve been bitten by the dog? The wound needs to be cleaned out. A dog bite can get nasty really fast. Did you go to the ER?” Most kids here were wary of authorities, especially if they had lived on the street, as Freddy had for the past three of her sixteen years.
“No need. We have the doc here today.” Freddy pulled up the leg of her baggy jeans to show a fresh white bandage that contrasted sharply with her brown skin. “Have you met her yet? She’s so cute. She tries to be all serious and businesslike, but after she finished with my wound and shots, she offered me a lollipop. Like I’m six! And when I told her what I’d rather lick, she actually blushed.”
Diana laughed. She should probably answer with something grown-up and social-worker-like about respecting women, but the blue tongue peeking out betrayed Freddy. “Uh-huh. So you didn’t take the lollipop?”
Freddy blushed but grinned as though she was the cocky teenager she pretended to be.
“So, she’s cute? What’s a doctor doing here today?”
Freddy shrugged. “She’s been here a few times before. She’s giving us shots, antibiotics, and stuff. You know, for…” She gestured vaguely to her crotch.
Diana nodded. She knew what Freddy meant. Too many of the kids turned toward prostitution to survive. But she wasn’t here to judge. What she could contribute was to let them forget the hurt and anger for a few hours or at least help them to channel it into the music.
“Do you think you’ll be able to play today?” Diana smiled to let her know she was teasing. “You can help me set up. I need someone to help me with some drums I brought in. They are just too heavy. Now that you got your vitamin-booster-doping shot, you’re probably stronger than Superman.”
“Wonder Woman.”
Both laughed at Freddy’s attempt to flex her tiny biceps. She was overflowing with energy, but muscular wasn’t a word Diana would use to describe her.
Diana and Freddy set up the room, placing drums of various sizes in a circle, as the others trickled in one by one. Punctuality wasn’t a priority for most of the kids, but Diana didn’t mind. Satisfied everything was as it should be, she settled on a stool and placed the largest djembe between her knees. The goatskin was little rough, but it was warm under her fingers, almost alive. She seldom took the time to play with her hands anymore, so these sessions were as much a treat for her as they were for the kids. She started a slow rhythm, very basic, so that no one had difficulties following her.
Freddy took her guitar from her battered case and joined her. One by one the others picked up instruments.
Diana let them play in their own tempo and style for some time. Soon the circle grew as more and more kids joined them. Diana loved that most harmonized instinctively. She put her djembe down and circled the room to gently correct a grip here or show another variation there. Many of those kids had never had the chance to get a proper music lesson and had neither patience nor time to practice regularly, but that didn’t matter.
When the different rhythms and melodies drifted apart, she returned to her djembe and increased the pace. As usual, the majority followed her lead and played faster and faster, directing their drive toward a common goal. As the music became almost impossibly fast, the harmony collapsed and became a cacophony.
Diana laughed, stopped playing, and used the hem of her shirt to wipe her forehead. “I’m beat. You guys will kill me one day.”
The others laughed or giggled, and some high-fived each other. A few even stayed to help clean up the room.
Diana listened to them gossiping about the new doctor. Everyone agreed she was cute; some even called her hot.
“What’s so special about her? Only her looks?” In Diana’s experience it usually took them much longer to trust someone new. What had won the kids over so fast?
“She’s not judging or preaching,” answered Hailey, who worked the streets despite being a lesbian and underage.
Several others nodded.
If Diana weren’t here in her role as a musician, she could imagine herself offering medical help. After the last instruments had been returned to her car, she decided to meet the new doctor.
Diana knocked on the door.
A sound that was probably an invitation drifted through the wood, so Diana entered.
A woman in jeans and a dark blue scrub shirt had her head hidden inside a small storage closet. The dark denim fit snuggly in all the right places, just as the kids had said.
Forcing her gaze upward, Diana shook her head at herself. She wasn’t here to ogle her colleague. “Hi, I’m Diana. I give music lessons.”
The woman turned and offered her hand. “Hi, I’m Emily. I’m—” As she caught sight of Diana, she stopped abruptly, and they both stared at each other.
Even though her scrub shirt was the same one she wore at work, Emily looked different, more approachable. Maybe it was the strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail or the slight blush that colored her cheeks.
Seeing her flustered helped Diana to recover from her own shock. “We meet at the unlikeliest places. Where next?”
Emily shook her head. “There aren’t many more places I go to.” She grinned. “Maybe the supermarket?”
“Maybe. Can I help you with this?” Diana gestured in the direction of the closet and a table, where medical supplies lay in a disarray that probably contained some system, not that she could tell at first.
“Sure, thanks. I’m making a list of all the supplies that are here to see what I have to bring the next time. I haven’t decided yet if I need to keep the older stuff. They are expired, but I can’t see why we shouldn’t still use most of it.” Emily continued to take everything out of the closet and to inspect the packages for damages and the expiration date. Some she put in a box on the floor, but most of them went on the table. “Sort them by type and size.” She pointed at the growing stack without looking at Diana.
Diana sighed inwardly. Emily was back to the friendly, but distant work relationship they had shared in the beginning. Maybe this was her chance to improve it. “The girls like you.”
“I haven’t scared them off with my vaccinations?” Emily chuckled. “They always pretend to be so tough when they are in here.”
“Yeah, it takes a while until they let you see their softer side. You’re new here, right?” Diana knew the answer but wanted to keep the conversation going.
“It’s my third time, but the last time was a few months ago.” Emily turned around, studied the different stacks Diana had made on the table, and added more supplies to each. “And you started recently too?”
“No, years ago in college.”
Emily stopped the sorting and focused on her. “Really?”
“I took a course in music therapy, and we did a few projects around town. I liked it here and volunteered throughout college and med school. But the last ten years or so, I couldn’t come back here often enough to set up anything regular. I took it up again when I moved back here six weeks ago. I plan to be here at least every other week if work doesn’t get in the way.” Diana knew she was babbling, but Emily’s professionally neutral expression made her nervous.
“I want to return too. A friend of my best friend works here as a social worker, and she convinced me to give it a try. I like that the work is different here, more basic, without the equipment we have at the hospital. And an emphasis on prevention. I think there’s need for more regular medical service.” Emily smiled, and her shoulders lost some of the tension that seemed to be her constant companion.
“That’s a great idea. A few years ago we had a monthly walk-in clinic, but when Tim retired, it was difficult to find someone new.”
Emily regarded her critically for a moment. “Why didn’t you volunteer for the position?”
Diana bit her lip and looked away. “I wasn’t here too often in the last few years.” She swallowed. “During that time I didn’t think of myself as a doctor.”
Emily nodded, as if this made sense to her, and continued working. “I think that’s all.” She handed Diana a checklist. “I’ll put everything back in the closet now, and you take notes.”
There it was again: the tone of voice that told Diana clearly who was the boss and who was the lowly resident. She lifted the corners of her mouth slightly upward. “Sure.” Did her smile look as fake as it felt? It didn’t matter since Emily wasn’t looking at her anymore.
They worked in silence.
Diana sneaked peeks at Emily’s ponytail and the faded jeans that hugged her figure. This wasn’t what she had imagined
an off-duty Emily would look like. Only the makeup was as thick as ever.
“Thanks. This was much faster than I could have managed on my own. I think we can lock up here.”
“Okay. Do you have a car?” Diana nodded toward the box of supplies that needed to be thrown away. “Or I can take it.”
Emily shook her head. “No problem. I took the bus. The stop isn’t far away.” Putting on a thin canvas jacket, she signaled Diana to leave the room ahead of her. She wedged the box under one arm and locked the door. “Are you coming?”
Diana grabbed her leather jacket from the music room. She retrieved her car keys from her pocket and dangled them in front of Emily. “I can drive you home if you want to. Or we could have dinner somewhere, and you can tell me more about the medical challenges here.”
“No, thanks. See you Monday.” Emily avoided eye contact and left.
Ouch. The message hit her like a slap in the face. Emily would rather take the bus than spend time together in her car.
Diana said goodbye to the social worker in the reception area. The weather had changed in the couple of hours she’d been inside. A few raindrops cooled her burning skin. She leaned against her car, closed her eyes, and turned her face toward the sky. The wetness was soothing. The scent of fresh rain washed the stench of the city from her mind. Too soon, the light drizzle turned into a downpour, and she fumbled with her keys to open the car. The few seconds outside had left her wet and cold. She turned the heater and defroster on.
After a minute the air warmed up, and the fog slowly disappeared from the windshield so she could start her way home. She didn’t get far.
At the end of the street a figure with a big box huddled in a house entrance. Wet hair hid half her face, but the stubborn set of her shoulders was unmistakably Emily’s.
