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I frown. Have I seen him somewhere? He looks vaguely familiar. Foreign. Eastern European, maybe. Perhaps we’ve been on the same bus before. I don’t pay him further attention as my stop in Brooklyn approaches.
Pushing past him and a few other passengers standing in the aisle, I get off the bus, rush home, and have a quick lunch. As I’m wolfing down my salad, my gaze falls on Alex’s plastic container. I washed it and, not knowing what to do with it, left it sitting on the kitchen counter. Its bright red lid stares at me like a screaming reminder. I could take it to work and leave it in Igor’s room. I’ve been walking circles around the ICU, scared of running into Alex. It’s time to stop that. What happened, happened. Pretending it didn’t won’t make it go away.
I write a quick thank-you note on a Post-it and stick it on the lid. Then I drop the container with a bottle of water and a snack into my tote bag. I have just enough time left to vacuum my apartment before heading back to the hospital, where I change into my scrubs and start my shift.
As always, it’s hectic, leaving no time to think about personal problems. A ten-year-old boy with a burst appendix and a young woman with a broken arm are admitted, and my feelings are mercifully squashed under the weight of their much more serious problems. It continues like that for the next twelve hours, and by the end of my shift, I’m so tired I can hardly stand on my feet.
I have one last task to execute. Taking the container from my bag, I walk to the room in the ICU where Igor is recovering. I knock and push open the door, only to freeze in the frame. The man lying in the bed in the private room isn’t Igor.
Mumbling an excuse, I shut the door and go to the desk to check the patient list. Apparently, Igor was discharged yesterday. Relief rushes through me, both because Igor is doing well and because there’s no longer a chance of accidentally running into Alex in the hospital corridors.
I head back toward the ER with a confusing mixture of relief and disappointment.
“Everything all right, Kate?” June asks, scurrying past me as I exit the elevator.
“Great.”
She grabs a stack of medical gloves and turns to me. “You look pale. Maybe you should swap with someone tomorrow and get some rest.”
“I’m good. Anyway, we’re understaffed as is.”
She sighs. “Well, make sure you take care of yourself. I can’t afford another sick nurse.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She smiles at my playful tone, already heading for the swinging doors.
In the locker room, I dump Alex’s dish in my locker, determined to let it gather dust on the shelf until I’ve forgotten about it.
Pulling on a puffy jacket and my reliable Uggs, I go home to my empty apartment, nuke some frozen soup, and collapse onto my bed. As I’m drifting off, I wonder if it’s maybe time to get a cat.
They’re a lot less complicated than humans, and they don’t cheat on you or think the worst before they even get to know you.
* * *
“Let me get this straight,” Joanne says, biting into her pizza before continuing with a full mouth. “You had the best sex of your life, the guy brought you breakfast in bed, and then you ran off because he did a background check on you.”
The slice of pizza I’ve just eaten turns sour in my stomach, which is a shame because the pizza at Oregano is my favorite. “How would you have reacted?”
She chews, seeming thoughtful. When she’s swallowed, she says, “I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong. I get why you’re upset, but given who the guy is, I can understand why he’s cautious.”
“Yeah,” I say dryly. “I suppose when you get shot at, you have to be careful about who you take to bed. Your one-night stand may murder you in your sleep.”
She stills with the pizza in midair. “You know, it actually doesn’t sound that far-fetched.”
I gape at her. “Are you serious?”
She shrugs. “Things like that happen.”
I watch her devour what’s left of her slice. “Are you saying I overreacted?”
“No. I’m just saying it can’t hurt to give him an opportunity to apologize.”
“For what?” I ask, confused. “For looking out for his safety? You just said that’s normal.”
“For not laying his cards on the table. I know you’re one of the kindest people with the most integrity, but he doesn’t. Give him a chance to say he’s sorry and to get to know you. He said he wanted to see you again, right?”
I push away my plate, not hungry anymore. “I’m not sure he wants to any longer. I haven’t heard from him in three days.”
“He’s busy.”
