“You’re so sweet,” I reply sarcastically.
“Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s…everything, I guess.”
I slam into the chair behind the desk as I check the rotation to see what I need to do.
Nicole, on the other side of the desk, leans on it with both arms, eyebrow raised and searching for info.
“We have a couple of minutes…spill.”
“You know better than to say something like that in a trauma ER.” I lift the chart higher so that Nicole hopefully can see how little I want to talk about this.
“Nice try. Spill.”
“Spill about what?” Antoine, our nosy fellow nurse, asks—probably sensing potential gossip from fifty yards away.
“Why Oakleigh looks like a truck ran her over and then reversed again.” Nicole fills him in.
“I do not!” I do.
Antoine cringes as he looks me up and down. “Sorry, Lee, but you do look a little…” I send him a warning look. “Tired.”
“I’ve worked five night shifts in a row, of course I’m fucking tired.”
“She has a point,” he tells Nicole.
“No, no, no. You don’t usually look this bad. I’ve seen you after a five-nighter and this isn’t it.”
I sink further into my chair and pull the chart higher.
“Oh my God, is this about a guy?”
I scoff pathetically. “No.”
“If you want me to be on your side, lie better,” Antoine says.
With a roll of my eyes, I stand and put the chart back in its place before preparing to go and check on Ms. Porter, a patient who came into the ER three hours ago after a fall down the stairs.
“Tell us,” Nicole whines as she blocks my way out.
“Nicole, there’s nothing to tell.”
“Lie. Better.”
“Antoine, shut up,” I snap, to which he just rolls his eyes.
“It’s not my fault you suck at lying.”
“You ever thought maybe I just don’t want to talk about it?” I ask, staring down at Nicole who is a good three inches shorter than me (for us short people, that’s a lot).
“It occurred to me, but then it also occurred to me that you look like you need a good rant.”
“Or a good fuck,” Antoine adds.
We both give him a look.
“Don’t you have to go and find Doctor Flitwick so you can flirt with him?”
