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“It’s a room to help calm kids—particularly my ASD patients, those who have autism spectrum disorder,” she explained. “Being in a hospital is scary for all kids, but the loud noises and those bright fluorescent lights—hell, even the ID bracelets we have to put on their wrists—can be intolerable for a child with sensory issues. I want to design a room for our unit with special lighting, weighted vests and blankets, and other things that help calm patients with autism.
“Even the patients without autism would benefit. There have been studies that show that just a few hours in a sensory room prior to surgery can have a big impact on kids. It’s like you playing basketball with Ahmad earlier today. It gives them a sense of normalcy and makes them forget they’re in a hospital and about to undergo this frightening procedure.”
“Have you looked into how much it would cost?” She leveled him with a droll look. “Stupid question,” Drew said. “Of course you, of all people, have done your homework.”
“I have it budgeted down to the cost of the multiple textured rugs for the floor,” she said. “It would run well over a hundred grand for the room Ireallywant, but I’m willing to settle for something on a much smaller scale. It can be done for about forty thousand.”
Drew wouldn’t dare tell her how much had been spent on that defunct clinic this past year. Given the state of the hospital’s financial health at the moment, and the amount of items on the priority list, he wasn’t sure Trident would find an extra hundred thousand for her room.
Of course…
“I can give the hospital the money for it.”
She started shaking her head before he could finish. “No. It’s not as simple as just throwing money at it,” she said. “That’s my dad’s answer for everything.” The derision in her voice told Drew all he needed to know about that.
“Besides,” she continued. “It will take more than just money for the sensory room to be a success. It takes an ongoing commitment from the hospital. There are new therapies being discovered all the time, and the room would need to be updated every few years.”
He could make sure there was enough to cover upkeep well into the future, but Drew had a feeling she would shoot that down as well.
“Don’t give up hope just yet,” he said.
“I haven’t, but I know it’s an extreme long shot,” she said.
“It is.” He shrugged. “But it may not be as out of reach as you’re thinking.”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, but then they widened with hopeful excitement. “Are you saying there’s space for my sensory room in the budget?”
“Slow down, Dr. Kelley. I can’t guarantee anything. That’s not in my job description.” Drew stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles. “But, as you know, one of the key outcomes of the work Trident is doing will be the recommendations we make about which programs should be slashed and which would add value to County. The team will need to perform a deeper assessment, but it sounds as if this sensory room deserves a place on the recommendation list.”
Her mouth dropped open and that hope in her eyes turned to excitement.
“This is probably against the rules, but I so want to give you a blow job right now.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “That is definitely a violation of the hospital’s code of ethical conduct for contract employees, and against Texas law, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“You can always give me a blow job just because you like doing it.”
“Idolike it.” There was a tinge of wonder in her voice. She looked over at him, shaking her head in disbelief. “Did you imagine back in high school that would ever be the case?”
“Not in a million years,” Drew answered honestly. Had he hoped for and dreamed about it? Every fucking night for his entire senior year and several years beyond.
Yet, for some reason, Drew held himself back from admitting it. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t bring himself to tell her how infatuated he’d been with her all those years ago. Maybe because it still hurt to know it had been so one-sided.
Drew heard the faint sounds of a guitar being strummed from somewhere in the distance. He tipped his head in order to hear it better.
“Did you hurt your neck playing basketball with Ahmad?” London asked.
“No.” He held up his hand and listened for a moment longer. “Albert King. ‘Born Under a Bad Sign.’ I knew that bridge sounded familiar.” He smiled. “If there’s one thing Austin has going for it, it’s being the live music capital of the world.”
“That is just one of the things this town has going for it,” she said. “Funny enough, it’s the one thing about Austin that I don’t pay much attention to. I’m not a huge concert fan.”
“But there are so many. There’s a blues festival in Zilker Park next weekend that I was thinking about going to.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re a fan of blues.”
“Yeah. A huge one. What’s wrong with blues?”
