“You heading out?”
“Yep, I work tonight.”
“Okay, see ya next time, Imani. Come by more often. I miss seeing you around here.”
“I will, promise,” I say touching his sweaty bicep, “Have fun making your millionth vase.”
“Yeah, I will,” he says, holding up his finished vase. “But it’s perfect, yeah?”
“Yeah, Dax, it really is.”
It’s a delicate purple vase, and I wasn’t lying to him. It’s perfect, and I love it.
“Hey, do you have plans for that?”
“Nope, just gonna give it to the wife so it can collect dust in the cupboard.”
“Can I have it then? I have a comatose patient that’s going to be with us for a while, and he could use something beautiful in his room when he comes around.”
“Yeah, sure, you got a little thing for this guy? Shame on you for taking advantage of a man in a coma.” He chuckles, and my mouth drops open. How could he know that? God, am I that transparent?
“Of course not.” I feel the heat of my blush spread up my neck to my face.
“I’m just messin’ with ya, Imani. You can have it, just take it out of the anneal tomorrow when you pick up your piece.”
“Thanks.” I pull my hood up over my sweaty hair and hurry out before Dax can tease me anymore. I don't want to be late for work because that would mean being late for Marcus.
Chapter 5
After I braid my long damp hair and apply a touch of mascara, I dash out the door.
At the hospital, I request to have Marcus as a patient tonight, and I’ve also been assigned a woman with a gunshot wound to the head that isn’t expected to live.
She was hit by a stray bullet at a stop light. It was a simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Multiple family members are wandering aimlessly around in the lobby, some in shock and some crying at the news of her impending death. Her husband is at her bedside, openly sobbing. He looks lost and devastated holding her hand.
It makes me think about losing a loved one, a partner, a husband, or even a soulmate. I shudder. Even though I have never known that kind of love, it’s easy to see how crushing it is.
I leave my patient’s grieving husband and family alone, for now, to go and check on Marcus.
A handsome blonde man dressed in a sharp, dark pinstriped suit is speaking quietly with Elena when I knock on the door and enter.
“Oh, Imani, I’m so glad you’re finally here. This is Elijah,” she says, introducing me to an incredibly handsome man with crystal blue eyes.
“Nice to meet you, Elijah. I’m glad you could come. It’s always good to have friends visit. Maybe it will spark something that will wake him up.”
“Oh, we aren’t friends,” he says, glancing at Marcus and back at me. “I work for Mr. Castillo.”
“Elijah is Marcus’s right-hand man, and he manages one of his restaurants located here in Seattle; he is invaluable to him. I’m sure he considers you his friend, Elijah.” Elena’s words are reassuring, but her body language says she’s uncomfortable. She fidgets in her chair crossing and uncrossing her legs, shooting quick glances in Marcus’s direction.
It’s almost as if Elijah is afraid Marcus might hear him claiming to be his friend, what could be wrong with that?
“Well, a familiar voice can be helpful, too.”
Elijah gives me a lopsided smile and shifts his gaze to the floor. With his hands in his pockets, he shuffles his feet.
What kind of man strikes this kind of fear in his most valued employee?
After I perform a quick assessment of Marcus and grab his vital signs, I leave the two of them to finish talking. For the first time since he's arrived, I’m anxious to leave Marcus’s room.
Elijah doesn’t stay long. After looking over some paperwork with Elena, they step into the hall and join me at my charting station.
“Imani, I’m going back to the hotel. I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Okay, I’ll keep an eye on him; don’t worry. I work tomorrow night again. I imagine I’ll see you.”
“Oh, you will, I’ve requested that you always be Marcus’s nurse if you’re working.”
“Oh, well, okay, that sounds good.”
“I know it’s silly, and you probably won’t believe me,” she says, looking into Marcus’s room and back at me. “But I feel he’s more comfortable when you’re here.” She pauses for effect, and I’m not sure how to react so I don't, and she continues.
“His color is better, and I swear his heart rate goes up when you are with him.”
I must be one hundred percent transparent. First Dax and now Elena think I have a thing for Marcus, which I do, but damn, it must be more noticeable than I expected.
“Thank you, I do enjoy taking care of him.” More than she could ever know.
With a quick sigh, she adjusts her purse on her arm. “Ok then, see you tomorrow.”
“Bye,” I say as she strides to the elevator.
I wonder if she's right, does his heart rate actually go up when I’m around? I don’t recall any noticeable fluctuations.
Note to self, go back and look at Marcus’s heart rate on the computer and see if Elena is right. He’s running at about seventy beats per minute right now, which is normal. I sigh, wouldn’t it be flattering if a man of his magnitude recognized my presence while he’s in a coma?
I lean close to Marcus’s face and whisper, “Your sister thinks you like me, funny, huh?”
I look up at the monitors. No change in heart rate, so much for that experiment. Time to get this guy adjusted in bed. I move him carefully with the turn sheet, but not too far as his leg is still in traction.
Two hundred pounds of solid muscle fills the bed top to bottom, making the job of moving him difficult. The nursing assistants on the night shift usually bathe our patients to ease the load of work on day shift. Our assistant isn’t here tonight, though, and Marcus needs a bath.
I can’t help but smile.
His bruising is turning yellow, and the knot on his head is significantly smaller. Now that most of the swelling has gone down, his face is more angular. I can see the resemblance between him and his sister. He looks even more like Elena then I thought before.
That’s got to decrease his sex appeal, doesn’t it? Yeah, no, not so much.
I gather up what I need for his bath and run some warm water in a washbasin and make sure his blinds and door are both closed. I start by gently washing his face. He has more than a five o’clock shadow going on today, but I’ll save shaving for tomorrow. A little something to look forward to, unless he wakes up of course.
With the back of my hand, I brush a thick curl from his face resisting the urge to run my fingers through his thick, soft brown hair.
I fold his sheet down exposing his chest, and it feels like I’m unwrapping the best gift under the tree on Christmas day. I slide my hands behind his neck and untie his hospital gown to remove it.
While washing his chest, I revel in feeling every abdominal muscle through the thin washcloth.
He’s just a patient in a coma, he’s just a patient in a coma, I chant to myself in my head.