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“Wow, Jenna. Six A.M. on the dot; someone’s turning over a new leaf,” Meg quips as I enter the unit. “You’re really making an effort here.”
“You’rereally making an effort here,” I repeat back as I turn my nose up at her. I spin the corner, eyes still squinting at Meg, not noticing the five-foot-nothing girl standing right in my way.
I slam into her, hearing the splash of liquid mixed with a gasp and feeling the warmth of something soaking through my scrub pants as I do.
Looking down, I see a dark head of hair that doesn’t look familiar. I look further, bending down to grab the leg of my scrub pants and shake it, trying to air-dry the coffee from it. “Well, son of a bitch, good morning to me.”
“I’m so sorry,” an unfamiliar voice says, as the person I crashed into squats down and tries to wipe the coffee from my pants with her jacket sleeve.
Meg comes over with a towel and tosses it on the brown pool on the floor. “Don’t worry about it, Hurricane Jenna letting everyone know she’s here.”
“Oh shit, are you the new girl? Lana?”
The petite figure at my feet nods, and a small voice says, “Lainey.”
Shit.Lainey, that’s right.
I crouch down and though I know it’s Lainey, when I come face to face with her, I would have sworn for a second that it’s nasty Natalie from high school, back in the flesh.
She’s stunning, the same long, thick dark hair, yet somehow sparkly green eyes. Not a speck of discolored skin or a lonely pimple in sight. This girl isn’t quite as exotic looking, her features are a little softer and she has a glaring shyness about her that Natalie didn’t have.
She tucks a strand of long, silky hair behind her ear. “Today is my first day. Sorry about this.”
“I’m Jenna.” I reach a hand up to her shoulder to apologize for the mess, and she must not have expected me to move so quickly because I see her flinch.
She turns away from me for a second, before a crimson flush crosses her cheeks.
“God. Girl, I'm sorry, I'm making a terrible first impression. Here.” I take the dirty towel from her hands, ushering her to stand. “It’s fine, I’ll take the towel. And the second I get my stuff settled and report from the night shift, I’ll run downstairs and get you a new cup of coffee.”
“It’s on me, I’m in the way. I feel awkward,” she says, finally standing at full height and only coming to my chin. “I’m trying to hide, not knowing what to do until work starts. Speaking of, do you know if someone named Margaret is here yet? I’m supposed to orient with her today.”
Ugh, Margaret. She’s probably been here for an hour already to review charts and scold the night staff for anything they didn’t get done. I thought I made it pretty clear to my supervisor that when we hire new staff, we should have them train with nurses other than Margaret, so they actually stick around.
“Hopefully I won’t need to bother you guys too much; once I figure out the layout of the unit and know how things work, I should be fine.”
I study her features a little more as she talks, first noticing her thick, silky eyelashes. I’m certain they are natural, and darker than the three coats of mascara I’ve shellacked on mine. I’m tempted to ask her why she became a nurse and decided to move to Chicago in the dead of winter when she could be doing a modeling photo shoot on a yacht somewhere in the Caribbean right now.
“I’ll go find Margaret and let her know you’re here. And I don’t want to taint your impression of Margaret, but don’t be surprised if you find she’s a little . . .” I trail off as I search for the most politically correct terms.
Meg murmurs something about a crotchety old bag under her breath.
“A little less than helpful,” I say. “Like I said, I’m Jenna. The crabby redhead is Megan. We would be more than happy to help you with anything, seriously. Don’t worry and come flag one of us down and we’d be happy to help.”
And for the first time since I crashed into her, she smiles, revealing a set of perfect teeth. She nods aggressively, repeating her thanks.
Meg’s back is to me, most likely staring at the schedule with a frown on her face. “Way to scare the new girl,” she says, not adjusting her position to say it to my face.
I throw an arm over her shoulder, pulling her in for a painful hug. “Meg, who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?”
She shrugs me off. “Ha-ha. Men, that’s who pissed in my Cheerios. She’s quiet for a moment, body incredibly tense under my forced hug before she continues. “Marissa’s pregnant.”
My shriek silences the hushed clammer at the nurse’s station. “Pregnant?” I whisper-hiss, “with what’s-his-face’s child?”
“You know what they say,” Meg continues, “fourth time’s a charm when it comes to commitment, and the stress of a newborn is a great way to salvage a relationship.” The phone on her hip rings loudly and she lets out an aggravated growl. “Who thefuckis calling this early in the morning.”
I grab a Post-It note to scribble my patient assignments, letting Meg’s irritation fizzle for a moment as she yells at the caller on the other line. Knowing when she’s pissed off like this, she’s either looking for advice, a fight, or a distraction, and I’m too tired to fight today.
“I went over to his house for dinner with him and his daughter the other night,” I tell her once she hangs up.
