CHAPTER THREE
- FLASHBACK -
AMBUSH
September 1997
CLUNK.
An icy cold red can thunked hard into the vending machine slot. Gracie reached in to grab it, wrapping her fingers around the frosty aluminum. It was hot today, one of those late summer/cusp of fall heat waves that made the days seem especially long. She pressed the cold can to the side of her neck and closed her eyes. For a moment, it was like she had a bit of peace in what was proving to be a particularly hectic shift.
"Got one of those for me?"
Until his voice came. Gracie's shoulders initially jerked in surprise, until she stilled, and slowly turned her eyes in his direction. Carter, in his pressed white lab coat, grinned. Those were not blue scrubs underneath. The rumors were true. Carter was starting his residency over in the emergency department.
"You've got a lot of nerve," Gracie accused Carter, shooting him an annoyed glare. She popped open her soda top and took a sip.
"What? Just because I escaped Anspaugh—" Carter was amused. It was clear he saw no threat in Gracie's words.
"Because you flock to the ER, of all places."
"And I've got nerve."
Gracie was getting mad. She leaned in and hissed, "I was here first!"
Carter grinned. "Technically, I started before you."
Her voice rose, and Gracie prodded a finger in his chest. "You were a med student!" She all but yelled, just enough to not cause a scene but certainly enough to catch the attention of Doug Ross. Carter was chortling. Doug diverted his path and instead swung right, making a grab for Gracie and pulling her away. He set her on a course to Exam Seven, away from the trouble Carter was brewing; away from chairs, where the possibility of cameras lurked nearby.
Still, Gracie yelled over Doug's, who was still steering her, shoulder, "Why couldn't you just switch to dermatology?"
"You would miss me, Africa, you know it!"
Doug swore. "Christ, a little less volume, would ya? The muckrakers are here."
Gracie rolled her eyes and finally caved, falling into step with him. "Tell me about it. They're suspicious, the lot."
"That's why I'm hiding in the lounge with the game next chance I get. But first, I've got a good one for ya—" Doug stopped at the door to Exam Seven. "Meet Henry."
A lawn dart. A goddamn razor sharp, metal-tipped, gigantic lawn dart was sticking out from the forehead of eight-year-old Henry, who was innocently kicking his legs to and fro over the edge of the gurney while his mother ranted disapprovingly over him. Gracie could hear her from where they stood. You are never playing at that boy's house again, do you understand me? "Henry, as you might imagine, is going to need an x-ray." Doug had the sort of tone in his voice that suggested amusement. "I don't think it's very deep, though. We can probably just extract it."
"Small miracles," Gracie noted wryly, accepting the chart Doug was handing her with a knowing look. "Tetanus?"
"You know it. Hey, Africa?"
Gracie hummed in query, her eyes focused as she scribbled on the boy's chart. She was too distracted to even signal her disdain for the nickname. "Carter's in the ER now. So maybe work on toning down the theatrics."
"Theatrics?" It was Gracie's turn to sound amused.
"You know, on account of your great sexual chemistry and all…" Gracie shoved Doug, who erupted laughing. "I'm just saying!"
"Please stop. I'm going to vomit."
"Get a rush on that x-ray, will ya?"
"Can't imagine I would want to wait around any longer with that thing in my head, either," Gracie remarked in response, and it was agreed. She and Doug parted ways, while Gracie tended to Henry. It was later, when she had finished assisting Doug in extracting the lawn dart and was exiting the room in order to begin discharge paperwork, when Gracie was accosted by the documentary cameras that had been roaming the ER all day.
A lens centered on her face. Aggie, the director, asked from behind the lens, "Gracie, is it? We're going around to all the nurses and getting their stories. Can we talk?"
Gracie exhaled uncomfortably. Her hands were tied. "I'm discharging a patient though…"
"We'll come along." The lens focused once more on Gracie and followed her as she continued her path to the admit desk. "How long have you worked at County?"
"About four years," Gracie replied, slapping her pile of charts on top of the desk.
"So you were here when Dr. Greene was Chief Resident? How would you say he's changed?"
"No change. He just got a fatter paycheck," Gracie quipped, earning a laugh from Chuny as she passed by. Aggie looked put upon. Gracie shrugged. "What do you want me to say? We're all still overworked and underpaid."
"Does anyone get into nursing for the money?" Chuny added across the way.
"No, I suppose not," said Gracie, scribbling notes.
"What about you, Gracie. Why did you get into nursing?"
Gracie was silent for a long moment. She glanced at Aggie, shook her head and smiled, then walked away.
MY BROTHER'S KEEPER
March 1998
With respect, came distance.
Gone were the days of mean-spirited practical jokes and biting words. Gracie found it difficult to fully avoid Carter, but she did the best she could, and if she were to be completely honest with herself — it was like a weight was lifted off her shoulders. But today, she was not so successful.
"You're a nurse, and you still smoke?"
Her eyes darted up quickly, taking in Carter's lanky form as she wrapped her black cardigan a little more snugly around her body. She drew the cigarette back to her lips, replying, "You forgot to mention the diabetes."
"That's right! So does this mean you're suicidal, should I be calling psych down here?" Carter stuffed his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, ambling idly around the ambulance bay as he spoke. He was not entirely sure why, now, after everything, he was conversing with someone whom he had once referred to as the bane of his existence — but after tonight, it seemed instinctual. She wondered why he was not upstairs, with his cousin — that was where family should be, was it not? — but she said nothing. She could not blame him for wanting a bit of fresh air.
Gracie shot him a sarcastic look, one that was clearly unappreciative of his commentary, and inhaled. "I don't do it very often."
"Once a week?"
"Try once a year."
"Seriously?"
She sighed, reaching up and running a hand through her hair, carrying an expression that suggested exhaustion. Concerns at home were weighing heavily on her shoulders. "It's just been a long day," Gracie replied. She looked away awkwardly, like she did not want to be this honest with him.
He was quiet for a moment. Finally, he said, "Yeah, yeah it has, hasn't it?"
Carter leaned against a wall nearby, hands in his pockets, eyes in any direction he could settle on. He looked weary, like how she felt, and she had a hard time believing that someone with a net worth of hundreds of millions of dollars could feel the way she does. It just served to remind her how human they were.
He asked, "Are the lab results back on our guy in Trauma One?," referring to a man who had been brought in shortly before an overdosed Chase Carter had been brought in with his junkie friends. The patient in question had run his truck off the road, egressed the vehicle via windshield, and had to be cut out of a tree some fifty feet in front of the truck.
Gracie exhaled and nodded. She remarked absently, "Blood alcohol's… you know, somewhere in the dead range."
Carter grimaced. "He's young, with a job, and successful enough to afford a new truck to be launched out of at high velocity. Why would anyone throw their life away like that?"
She flicked more ashes onto the ground, giving him an indifferent glance. "Has a bed in ICU opened up yet?"
"Working on it. Personally, he hasn't got much of a chance."
"His wife said he was on his way to see his daughter dance in her ballet recital."
"And he was driving drunk?"
Gracie blew smoke out of her nose. She said, "I used to dance ballet."
Carter was struck silent. Suddenly, there felt no more need to force conversation.
She gave him one last look before tossing her cigarette to the ground, standing and stamping on the butt. She muttered some kind of condolence about his cousin that she would not remember later, then headed inside, leaving Carter behind to watch her leave.
