Page 6 of Yours Truly, Fall

I scan his chart, then scroll through all the notes. They would note something that traumatic. Unless they didn’t know. If he’s been sleeping most of the time, the doctors and nurses might not have noticed any symptoms or clues that would have led them in that direction.

I click onto his file again, searching for anything that might confirm my suspicion because he sure as heck used to know who I was. Not to sound arrogant, but geez, am I that easy to forget?

How could he forget unless by an act of nature, or God? I dip my hand into my pocket and turn the metal token over a few times, not wanting to think that God has it out for me. I had my parents ripped from my life on a rainy night. Maybe Mother Nature should bear the brunt of the blame.

Or I could be jumping to conclusions. Maybe he called me Nurse out of respect.

Does it matter? No. Don’t look for problems where there aren’t any, Autumn.

The answers won’t be found while entering files into the computer system, and that’s what I’m supposed to be doing. I open the first file and get started.

Three hours don’t fly by unnoticed. I can’t stop my gaze from transferring across the hall or my thoughts from straying to Brandon. Even the phone is eerily quiet tonight, leaving me with no great distraction from the fireman.

Although I did get sucked into the late-night infomercials on the TV in the waiting room, I left after a few minutes, sparing me from spending frivolously on a new vacuum. It would be great for a future place of my own. Which I will have one day, and the “most powerful suction on the market” will be mine. Until then, I’ll straighten the old magazines left for visitors to flip through while their loved ones get care.

I glance up at the clock on the wall. 3:41 a.m. Just five more hours to go. I’m about to return to the desk where only a few files remain to be entered when I hear someone say, “Autumn Leaf Season,” from behind me. I already know who it is.

The voice? Dolly.

The tone and full name said in reprimand? Am I in trouble?

Darting my eyes toward the hospital doors, I’m greeted by my grandmother, who is on a mission, judging by that march and pace.

“What’s wrong?” My mind jumps to a million conclusions, none of which are good. “Is everyone okay?” I eye the pale-pink Bento box in her hands. Her visit in the middle of the night suddenly makes more sense. “It’s almost four in the morning. Did you come all the way down here to bring me the lunch I forgot?”

Her blue eyes sparkle as if she’s not seen me in ages and her day has been made, when I saw her before she went to bed six hours ago. Or at least, I thought she had gone to bed. Her smile is wide as if it’s noon on Sunday and she’s brought the winning pie to the social club. “I can’t let you wither away,” she replies. “Your boobs will be the first to go. Why do you think I’ve always chosen to stay curvier?” She hugs me.

I always welcome her hugs. They’re warm and inviting, a safe harbor after enduring rough seas. We lost our parents, but Dolly has done her damnedest to make sure we always feel loved. “And here I thought it was our genes.” What is this conversation we’re having? I always get sucked into these talks as if I can’t resist the bait. I grin, unable to restrain a laugh. “Fine. I’ll bite. Because you didn’t want to lose your boobs?” I reply like it’s a wild guess.

“Exactly.” Her shoulders straighten, meaning business. “Men are either into boobs or butts. Most of us aren’t gifted with both.” She tilts her head. “You have such a beautiful smile, Autumn.”

My head jerks back before my gaze drops to my chest under the blue scrubs I’m wearing. “I have boobs, Dolly.” When I look up, I cross my arms over my chest, not in defiance but to hide my chest because some of us weren’t gifted in that department like Dolly and my sisters were. “The sports bra just compresses me.” Dropping my arms to my sides, I shake my head and then take the Bento box from her. “I appreciate the delivery, Dolly, but can we change topics?” Whispering, I add, “There are patients, and they might hear us. I really don’t need them judging me from this conversation.”

“We can, but I can tell you that what you’re eating isn’t going to fill you out in all the right places.” Digging into the bag hanging off her shoulder, she pulls out a protein shake and sets it in front of me. “Sausage, crackers, and cheese alone aren’t enough to fuel you for the night.”

“But they are delicious,” I singsong, returning to the nurses’ station before we land in the gutter talking about things we should not be discussing at work.

“True. But drink some protein while you’re at it.”

Tapping the top of my head, I add, “And I’m filled out up here where it matters more anyway.” But seeing my tiny granny and the genuine smile that resides on her face just for me has me loosening up again. “Thank you for delivering my food and the shake. And yes, I’ll try to eat more but only because I want bigger boobs.” I give her a knowing wink.

When she laughs, the sound reminds me of the jewelry box I had when I was little—a trill and melody mingling to make music.

From the other side of the desk, her blue eyes search my green eyes, which matched my father’s like they were copied and pasted, same with the red hair. Other than Winter, with her dark hair and brown eyes, which I’m told come from my paternal side, my other sisters were gifted to match Dolly and our mom. It was nice to have the ties to my dad, but since they passed, I can’t say I’ve felt like I fit in.

Dolly reaches over to caress my cheek. “I see insecurity frequenting your eyes more often lately. What’s going on, darling girl?”

She always did have a way of seeing through our facades. She calls it intuition. I call it her empathetic heart. I look at the countertop between us, both relieved and embarrassed she sees me so clearly when I feel unseen so often lately. Lifting my gaze to hers again, I whisper, “I—” I clamp my lips shut, now in control of the words spewing out of my mouth. I don’t want to worry her, and that’s what will happen if I confess I’ve lost my way the past two years. And worse, I’ve lost myself.

I love being a nurse and used to love coming to work so much that I would volunteer for extra shifts or fill in when someone was out sick or on vacation. Then everything was ruined—my momentum, my career, and the joy in my day. I could never have predicted that saying yes to a date with Leechy would leave me answering phones, doing nightly med rounds, and entering data instead of caring for patients at the level I was trained to. Though I know it was saying no that really changed everything.

My grandmother can’t fix this, and she’ll try. She’s feisty and doesn’t take jack from anyone. If she finds out a doctor has plotted against me, she’ll try to right the wrongs at the risk of making things worse.

I can take it on the chin, then raise it in the air with pride. I’m a good nurse, and if the hospital no longer recognizes it, it might be time to move on. Might? It is time. I know it is. I’m just not ready to leave my family and hometown quite yet.

Tilting her head, she asks, “What is it?”

I put on a smile for her so I don't drag her into my mess. I got myself into this. I can get myself out. “I’m just hungry. I think I’ll have the shake now to give me some energy.”