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I appeased Dr. Donaldson by reciting the relevant symptoms to watch for back to him, signed the papers that apparently certified I was no longer a danger to society, and then I was free. I walked out of Infectious Disease with a cart of office supplies, a plastic bag labeled “Patient Belongings” and a new houseplant.
Realistically, I knew nobody was staring at me, but somehow the way back to my office still felt like a walk of shame. I had already spent a disturbing proportion of the last twenty-four hours talking to the plant. I wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a gift or Cassie had loaned me her personal plant, but I wasn’t about to ask. Phil was less a spoil of war and more the only friend I had left. I wheeled him down to my office and unpacked my stuff. No one in my division raised an eyebrow at my scrubs.
As long as I could still do my work, I could finish out the day. We only had a few days to complete the task force. The guidelines were updated, but Cassie had the paper copy now. Surely I could remember most of the edits I’d written on them.
“Oh, Davis!” Dr. Okafor poked her head into my office. “Cassie has kept us apprised, but we haven’t heard anything since yesterday. We’ve been so worried.”
I tried not to flinch at the mention of Cassie. “No anthrax, just cleared.” And really tired of being the object of all attention. “How’s that grandbaby of yours?”
She beamed. “Absolutely precious.” She showed me a couple photos on her phone, and I oohed and aahed appropriately.
Dr. Okafor put away her phone and turned back to the topic at hand. “Are you sure you ought to be here?”
“Of course. I even got the guidelines all updated, just wanted to get them typed up.”
Dr. Okafor raised her eyebrows. “That’s brilliant—right in time for next week’s meeting with the State Health Department—but wouldn’t you rather take the afternoon off?”
“Oh, no, that’s not necessary. I’ll get the presentation going for the Health Department, and then Dr. Croft’s job with us is done. Freeing her up for her work,” I added. “I’ve taken enough of her time.”
“I’m sure she was happy to help. However, I really do want you to go home. You’ve been in this hospital for more than forty-eight hours. No one should be here that long if they don’t have to be.” She took my arm—the first direct human contact I’d had in days—and towed me toward the department doors. “Go home, wash, get proper food and sleep, and come back Monday when you’re one hundred percent sound again.”
I readied a counterargument until I realized what she might be saying in not so many words—other than the impromptu anti-anthrax scrub right here in this office, I hadn’t had access to a shower in two days. Maybe she wasn’t suggesting it for my sake, but trying to spare my pride. “Okay,” I said at last. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Take all the time you need,” Dr. Okafor said, her voice gentle. “You’ve been through a bit of trauma.”
“About that—have you heard anything from the police? About the investigation?”
“Only that they weren’t hopeful about finding the culprit. I doubt they’d come to me with anything, though.”
“Of course.” I thanked Dr. Okafor, collected my phone and wallet, and headed out of the hospital.
Leaving again felt strange, and not just because two days ago at this time I was being handled like biohazardous waste—nor because I’d almost started to believe I wasn’t going to make it out.
Luke had worked double time these last few days, and he’d already sent my new address, promising that movers would arrive with my things within six hours. It was an amazing turnaround, but for the amount of money we were paying, we deserved at least this much consideration.
Cassie would have hated that, though. Not that it mattered now.
I programmed my new address into my phone and pulled out of the parking garage. The sun felt too bright, the sounds of the outside world harsh as if it had been far more than two days ago that I’d driven into work.
The drive to the new apartment in Old City was even shorter than my commute before. I wouldn’t have to drive if I didn’t feel like it. The office manager was extremely accommodating, not judging my scrubs at all, and ushered me directly up to my new apartment, a two-story loft.
All I wanted was a long hot shower, something decent Delivrd and then... I didn’t know. I’d watched far too much TV in the last two days. Maybe I’d sleep. Hit the gym if that didn’t seem like an option.
But in this apartment without towels or clean clothes or dishes or furniture, none of those looked like viable options. I didn’t even have a phone charger.
Well, takeout came with plastic utensils, and I wouldn’t die eating off Styrofoam. After updating my address in the app, I put in an order for something ridiculous after all the heavy, overcooked food I’d had in the hospital: kouign amann and macarons and croissants from the nearest bakery. Delivrd promised to arrive within fifteen minutes, leaving me time to pace through the space that was now mine, my footsteps echoing over the marble floors.
The living area was spacious. The main bath did have a jetted tub. An office, a dedicated gym so I wouldn’t have to go downstairs, a butler’s pantry—the place had all the amenities Cassie had listed and more.
And yet it was so. So. Empty.
My pastries arrived faster than promised, and I wandered out to the balcony to look out over the historic brick buildings, people going about their lives on a warm June afternoon. Couples. Families. Even the garbagemen had coworkers who probably cared about them.
I’d had that—well, I thought I had. I’d had someone who didn’t want me to be left all alone, like she knew how much I was freaking out, the memories that short trip in the isolation tube had pulled up.
I’d thought I’d found another Nurse Hadewijch, someone who genuinely cared about me without being on my payroll.
Ha. Even Hadewijch was merely doing her job. She just did it better than the other nurses.
