“I told Meiner he’d get some credit—”
“You have no right to negotiate on this hospital’s behalf. You’re lucky I saved your ass. Best care scenario, you would have been fired, but jail time would have been more likely. Of course, I had to give someone credit...you’ll be accepting a very prestigious award, Dr. Prince.”
“An award?”
“Pittsburgh Memorial’s Distinguished Service Award,” she says.
“That’s only given out to…”
“The best of the best,” she says. “A group to which you are now a member.”
I’m reeling. Why in the hell would she throw accolades at me?
Then I remember that Dr. Meiner was willing to take the same risks as I was. He’s ambitious. I remember him trying to slam me into the wall for “denying him access to Rose.” He’s not going to be happy with me. I also realize that my reputation as Rose’s doctor is well known, and it would make sense that I’d be the one performing the surgery. It’s a PR thing; she can use this “Sleeping Beauty” story as some kind of nicely packaged little commercial about how great her hospital is. It would be dumb as hell for me to question it, and once she’s thrown all these accolades and attention my way, it would also be very much in my best interests to just calm down—and to never try anything crazy like this again.
“Well played, Dr. Bell.”
She laughs. “I’m smothering you with kindness, Dr. Prince. By the way, I’ve been watching how closely you’ve been following up with Ms. Dorner.”
Dr. Bell licks her lips. I know she saw me kiss Rose right before she woke up. She’s not going to say anything about it, though.
“And?” I ask.
“It looks good for you to stay close and engaged, but don’t get too close. That would look very unprofessional, don’t you agree?”
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” I lie.
It’s been a long time since I was involved in anything even remotely resembling a serious relationship. Work has always been too important to me, so I’ve mostly just had fun when I was in the mood. Now that Rose is awake...I can’t help but feel something else might exist with her. But she is my patient, and as cynical and cutthroat as Dr. Bell’s reasons may be, I can’t deny that she’s right. It would indeed be bad if I got too close.
6
Rose
Dylan leaves around eight o’clock to go to work, and I’m suddenly alone. I remember hearing Kaden’s schedule, so I know he’s off playing poker tonight. They’ve given me a TV now, so I can at least mildly entertain myself, but I find watching TV both overwhelming and mind-numbing. If I had slept for fifteen or twenty years, I’m sure it would have felt like waking up in a new and alien world. Like waking up far in the future.
Seven years, though, feels like...like waking up in an alternate reality, maybe? Everything is slightly different, but not so radically different that it feels too crazy. Justin Bieber went from being a cute kid that most people hated, to a tattooed adult that most people hate. Everyone finally stopped talking about Lost, and people seem to use their phones a lot more than they used to.
There’s no single drastic, huge thing that I won’t be able to adjust to. It’s just that everything feels ever so slightly off, and every conversation I have with a nurse or with Dylan seems to include a reference to something that totally goes over my head.
Dylan said he wants to take me to see a movie, but that first we’ll have to watch like twenty-five more superhero movies at his place so that I’m “caught up.” Since when did movies have that many sequels?
“Hey,” a familiar, reassuring voice says.
I look up to see Kaden standing in the doorway.
“It’s 8:30,” I say. “Aren’t you off work by now? Don’t you have poker?”
“I cancelled it,” he says.
“You said you really like it, though.”
He pulls up a chair and sits down beside my bed. I’m sitting up instead of lying down. I wish I could sit in an actual chair, but they won’t let me.
“So,” Kaden says. “Here’s the deal. I argued with Dr. Bell, and I didn’t think she’d go for this. She put up surprisingly little resistance, though, and I won.”
“Go for what?” I ask.
“You get to go out tonight,” he says.
“Go out?” I ask. “Like I’m being discharged?”
“No,” he says. “We’re working on that, but you can leave the hospital tonight, under doctor supervision, of course.”
“Doctor supervision…” I say, my heart racing, “Does that mean...Dr. Prince?”
He grins.
“I really get to go out? Like...now?”
He nods.
I jump out of the bed and hug him. I feel my big boobs that I totally forgot that I actually have press up against Kaden’s stomach. I’m surprised at how solid and strong his abs feel, and I’m even more surprised at how rigid and pointy my nipples suddenly get.
I let go of him and pull back. “Ah, uh, sorry, I was just excited.”
“You have doctor’s permission to be excited,” he says, grinning.
And then I swear I see him look down at my tits, and his eyes linger for a moment. He looks back up.
“You, uh,” he says, holding out a bag. “One of the nurses got these for you.”
I open the bag and look inside to see jeans, yoga pants, and a few different tops.
“Real clothes…” I say.
“You can put on whichever ones you want. They are modern fashion. I don’t pay much attention to that kind of thing, but Lisa is pretty up on that stuff, so she got you clothes that won’t make you look out of place.”
“Tell her I said thanks,” I say, grinning. “I’m going to go try these on!”
I take the bag with me into the bathroom, and as I dig through it, I notice a bra, in there, my eyes widening at the cup size. Lisa must have eyeballed my measurements—but a double D? Seriously!
I try on the bra, and sure enough, it fits. My 18-year-old self would have flipped out.
I pull out the pair of jeans, and I laugh when I look at them. They look like mom jeans. Maybe Lisa really isn’t up on fashion at all, and Kaden just thinks she is. There’s no way in hell that mom jeans would ever come back in style. They were banished in the 80s, never to return again.
My only other option is yoga pants. I never felt comfortable wearing those. The one time I tried a pair on at the mall, it felt like everyone could literally see my ass, as well as every single curve between my legs.
Kaden is going to think I look like such a dork wearing mom jeans, though. But I might as well at least try them on.
I slide into them, and I realize they are pretty tight. The waist goes way up past my belly. I look at the tag and see that they are from H&M. If H&M is selling mom jeans in 2017, they must actually be popular. Or maybe H&M converted to a retro clothing store.
Of all the things that changed during the past seven years—robot assistants in phones, Donald Trump as President, and hoverboards that catch on fire—nothing has surprised me as much as mom jeans being back in style.