“This fucking shift,” Erin huffed as she leaned back in her chair. “I can’t believe they let so many doctors and nurses take off.”
I took a sip of my hospital coffee and instantly regretted it. It was bitter and nasty. The kind of coffee that only those on night shifts had to endure.
This shift had been nonstop fires until now. Calls. Chaos. No breaks. I was still wearing booties and a surgical cap, ready for the next emergency.
The clock on the wall read 12:02.
“It’s Thanksgiving,” I said. “People want to be with their families.”
“I get that,” she said. “But sick people don’t just stop being sick. They could’ve at least left a bare-bones crew. This place feels like a graveyard.”
My phone buzzed against the table.
A message from Kelley at the front desk.
Some guy left a note for you.
My fingers tightened around the phone, and I stood.
“Where are you going?” Erin asked.
“Front desk,” I said. “Some patient is looking for me or something.”
She nodded. “You coming back after?”
“Might be a bit. I’ll do a few more rounds while I’m at it. ICU and the children’s floor. Pediatric oncology’s short today, so I’ll help where I can. I’ll see you later.”
She hid her disappointment and nodded again.
Downstairs, Kelley sat at the front desk, reading a romance novel with a bare-chested guy on the cover. The ER waiting room to her left was nearly empty.
Without looking up, she handed me an envelope.
Her oversized pink glasses slid down her nose. She waited until I took the envelopebefore pushing them back up.
“Who left this?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “It wasn’t the same guy as last time.”
I nodded. Last time was Nolan.
“This one looked kinda homeless,” she added.
“It was probably Willy,” I said. “He’s going through a rough patch again.”
She shrugged, still not looking up. “Hard to say. He was wearing a baseball cap and one of those Florida sweaters. The tourist kind with bright colors and a big state logo on the front.It looked like something people buy on vacation and never stop wearing.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding like it all made sense. “Then it must be Willy. I got him a Florida sweater for colder days. He’s always wearing that same T-shirt and thinks jackets have listening devices sewn into them.”
She finally looked up at me and shook her head. “Listening devices? Oh God. I don’t envy you.”
She pointed at the envelope in my hand. “Probably a letter about him being a prophet or something.”
“I hope I can get him back on his meds,” I said. “He does so much better when he’s on them.”
“Let’s hope,” Kelley muttered, already turning back to her book.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I said and turned.
