having the power to score somebody an extra brownie is
enough to avoid a meltdown.”
“I’ll make a note.”
We strolled in the warm June sunshine, its heat burning off a bit of my exhaustion
and angst, if not my sweat. The drills were flipping through my mind like flash cards,
and I hoped I wouldn’t have stress dreams about them all night. My legs yearned to
slow down, dawdle so the walk took an hour, just me and the spring air, no responsibilities,
flanked by a hulking man capable of defending me against any number of deadly attacks.
It would’ve been too strong to say I felt a bond with Kelly. My body was curious about
his, but I didn’t have any urge to hold his hand as we walked, or to imagine he was
my boyfriend. He’d shared too much about his romantic MO for me to waste my time mooning
over him . . . but there was
something
there. Something not quite familiar, but comforting. I could see how he had a calming
influence on the patients. If he ever got over his my-way-or-the-highway machismo,
he’d probably make one hell of a dependable husband for some tough-as-nails woman.
We reached the entrance to Starling and I swiped us in. Kelly led me up a back stairwell
to the third floor, and I knew we were near the kitchen from the smell. Tater tots.
Kelly swung one of the double doors in. “Knock knock,” he said to someone I couldn’t
see, then slipped inside, holding the door for me.
It looked like a scaled-down version of my high school cafeteria. Lots of steel surfaces
and steam and big freezers and plastic bins. Kelly introduced me to the man in charge,
a short black guy my age named Roland. Before I knew it, we were carrying trays to
a break room I’d never been in before, just me and Kelly and a softly droning portable
television propped on a pile of textbooks in the corner.
Kelly opened a can of seltzer. “So. How is it, living in the transitional residence?”
I swallowed a bite of turkey burger and shrugged. “It feels like a dorm. I think.
I’ve never actually lived in one. Quieter, probably. But you know, communal showers,
identical rooms, shared kitchen. It’s cheap. It’ll do the job until I’ve got my head
wrapped around everything and know the area a bit better.”
“Before you decide whether or not to stay,” he translated, but incorrectly.
I shook my head. “I’m staying, barring a seriously traumatic experience. It’s close
to my sister, and it pays pretty well. I have to settle
some
place, and get some clinical experience. And if I can handle a locked ward, I’ll know
I’m capable of working just about anywhere.”
“Why’s it so important to stay near your sister?”
“I just need to. I sort of raised her, and I worry about her. She’s got a toddler
and really bad taste in men. She requires a lot of maintenance, to keep from going
off the rails.”
“Maybe you’d be surprised, if you left her alone to fend for herself.”
I laughed. “I tried that, when I moved in with my grandma. I didn’t think I could
look after her,
and
my sister. And occasionally my mom. So I told Amber—my sister—that I was done bailing
her out all the time, and she was eighteen, and it was time for her to find her feet
and all that.”
“And?”
I shook my head. “Within six months she’d run up eight grand on a credit card, got
evicted, and turned up on my grandma’s doorstep with her rear windshield smashed out.”
“Wild child?”
“By herself she’s not that bad. But she falls for the most horrible guys. I think
part of her enjoys the drama, like she’s in her own reality show. But she’s got a
son now, you know? You don’t get to star in your own show when there’s a kid around.”
“So what, you’re just going to babysit her until your nephew’s safely off to college?”
I slumped, exhausted by the thought. “I dunno. I just know it’s too soon to disentangle
myself. I lost my grandma this
enough to avoid a meltdown.”
“I’ll make a note.”
We strolled in the warm June sunshine, its heat burning off a bit of my exhaustion
and angst, if not my sweat. The drills were flipping through my mind like flash cards,
and I hoped I wouldn’t have stress dreams about them all night. My legs yearned to
slow down, dawdle so the walk took an hour, just me and the spring air, no responsibilities,
flanked by a hulking man capable of defending me against any number of deadly attacks.
It would’ve been too strong to say I felt a bond with Kelly. My body was curious about
his, but I didn’t have any urge to hold his hand as we walked, or to imagine he was
my boyfriend. He’d shared too much about his romantic MO for me to waste my time mooning
over him . . . but there was
something
there. Something not quite familiar, but comforting. I could see how he had a calming
influence on the patients. If he ever got over his my-way-or-the-highway machismo,
he’d probably make one hell of a dependable husband for some tough-as-nails woman.
We reached the entrance to Starling and I swiped us in. Kelly led me up a back stairwell
to the third floor, and I knew we were near the kitchen from the smell. Tater tots.
Kelly swung one of the double doors in. “Knock knock,” he said to someone I couldn’t
see, then slipped inside, holding the door for me.
It looked like a scaled-down version of my high school cafeteria. Lots of steel surfaces
and steam and big freezers and plastic bins. Kelly introduced me to the man in charge,
a short black guy my age named Roland. Before I knew it, we were carrying trays to
a break room I’d never been in before, just me and Kelly and a softly droning portable
television propped on a pile of textbooks in the corner.
Kelly opened a can of seltzer. “So. How is it, living in the transitional residence?”
I swallowed a bite of turkey burger and shrugged. “It feels like a dorm. I think.
I’ve never actually lived in one. Quieter, probably. But you know, communal showers,
identical rooms, shared kitchen. It’s cheap. It’ll do the job until I’ve got my head
wrapped around everything and know the area a bit better.”
“Before you decide whether or not to stay,” he translated, but incorrectly.
I shook my head. “I’m staying, barring a seriously traumatic experience. It’s close
to my sister, and it pays pretty well. I have to settle
some
place, and get some clinical experience. And if I can handle a locked ward, I’ll know
I’m capable of working just about anywhere.”
“Why’s it so important to stay near your sister?”
“I just need to. I sort of raised her, and I worry about her. She’s got a toddler
and really bad taste in men. She requires a lot of maintenance, to keep from going
off the rails.”
“Maybe you’d be surprised, if you left her alone to fend for herself.”
I laughed. “I tried that, when I moved in with my grandma. I didn’t think I could
look after her,
and
my sister. And occasionally my mom. So I told Amber—my sister—that I was done bailing
her out all the time, and she was eighteen, and it was time for her to find her feet
and all that.”
“And?”
I shook my head. “Within six months she’d run up eight grand on a credit card, got
evicted, and turned up on my grandma’s doorstep with her rear windshield smashed out.”
“Wild child?”
“By herself she’s not that bad. But she falls for the most horrible guys. I think
part of her enjoys the drama, like she’s in her own reality show. But she’s got a
son now, you know? You don’t get to star in your own show when there’s a kid around.”
“So what, you’re just going to babysit her until your nephew’s safely off to college?”
I slumped, exhausted by the thought. “I dunno. I just know it’s too soon to disentangle
myself. I lost my grandma this
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