I hitch up a shoulder, standing directly in the center of the hall so none of the microbes this emergency department (ED) is notorious for can make a bold leap onto my immaculate lavender Tom Ford dress. I shift my weight in my heels, hating that I’m forced to wear them after spending twelve hours on my feet up in the ICU. But I’d rather have my feet suffer the consequences than hear it from my mother. Old money cliché or not, the woman likes me to look the part and that means dressing as if I’m about to walk the runway at Fashion Week.
“I don’t know exactly. All they said was that they wanted to meet at the bar at The Four Seasons after my shift.”
“Are your brothers coming?”
“Again, don’t know. But my parents made me promise to pencil them in for an hour, so I’ll likely be late to meet everyone at The Hill tonight.”
“No worries.” She waves me away. “We’ll save you a seat and order you up a drink that I promise not to polish off before you get there. Well, not all of it anyway. Why Aria felt the need to have a night out on a Thursday is beyond me. Doesn’t she understand us nurses don’t live in her artist bubble of every day is a Saturday?”
“I’m working Saturday.”
“Yeah. I think I am too. But you know what I mean.”
I do. Hospital nurses, which is what Margot and I are, have ridiculous schedules and hours and lives. I actually started out in college premed and then after life took the most gruesome and unexpected turn on me, I decided being a nurse is what I wanted.
Even if I come from a family of doctors.
Still, this life sounds so cool and heroic when you’re in nursing school. Like today is the day I save all the lives. And yeah, we do that. I mean, today alone, I did that. Doctors take the glory, but nurses run the show, and if we’re not on top of our stuff, our patients die.
But it’s also dealing with a lot of the best and worst of what humans are capable of and that certainly isn’t for the faint of heart. Or stomach.
“I don’t mind going out tonight,” I continue. “It’s a nice break actually after the day I’ve had. And Aria is just excited for whatever news she has to share.” I hold up my hand, stopping my train of thought and redirecting. “That said, if she announces her and Wes are already engaged, it might end up being a double martini night.”
Margot laughs. “No kidding. God,” she gasps, searching left and then right before she decides the coast is all clear and steps in a bit closer to me. “I can’t even. Drew will die. I mean, I cannot be the one to tell him if that’s what’s going down.”
Our friend Aria was dating Doctor Andrew Albright, aka Drew, Margot’s BFF and outrageously gorgeous ED doc for a year and a half. Then the douchetard broke up with her and just when he decided to get his head out of his ass and win her back, Aria had moved on with Wes, her childhood sweetheart and brother’s best friend, who also happens to be a trauma surgeon in this hospital and works with Drew.
It’s a headache and drama all rolled into one.
Well, not so much anymore.
It would have ended badly except Drew is an amazing guy and wants Aria to be happy. Now he and Wes are friends if you can believe that. And I think Drew is actually sweet on our beloved Margot here though he’d never come out and say it.
“We’ll know soon enough.” I check my diamond Cartier watch—a graduation present from my parents that I only wear when I see them. “Hey, I gotta plow if I’m gonna make it over to The Four Seasons on time.”
“Good luck. Hopefully you won’t need it.”
I hop in the waiting Uber and by the time I step into the luxurious hotel directly across from the Boston Gardens, meander my way through to the first-floor bar off the lobby, I’m exactly three minutes late. “Good evening, Miss.” The polite host greets me with a smile. “Will you be dining with us this evening or just enjoying a beverage.”
“I’m here to meet Dr. and Mrs. Fritz.”
At the mention of my parents’ names, his eyes light up. “Oh, yes. Of course. They have reserved a private room. Right this way.”
I follow him through the modern yet opulent small dining area crowded with after-work patrons, past the overflowing bar toward the back where the private rooms are located. The moment the host announces my arrival and presents me like I’m the queen, my parents stand to hug me, both with reproachful expressions.
“I’m sorry,” I start, not even waiting. “Traffic was a bitch and we’re talking not even five minutes. Give a nurse a break.”
My mother scowls, tilting her head in dismay. She hates it when I swear, but she has a tender heart especially for her youngest and only daughter out of the six offspring she spawned.
I hug both my parents, kissing their cheeks.
“Have a seat, Rina,” my father instructs, waving a hand at the empty fabric chair in front of me and thanking the host with a generous tip. “We’ve taken the liberty of ordering you a dirty martini.”
I nod without complaint even though dirty martinis are far from my drink of choice and sit across from my parents. The walls are this pretty royal blue color, and the furnishings are soft and comfortable. Framed art adorns the walls adding to the classic yet chic decor and looks every bit as expensive as you’d expect for this hotel.
“You look gorgeous, my girl,” my mom says, a gleam in her eye as she takes in my designer digs. “Those shoes, baby. Are you trying to butter me up?”
I grin before I can stop it, pointing my toes to show off my insane heels. My parents might be very proper. They might be strict when it comes to their children. But their love for us is boundless.
“Red soles at night, mother’s delight,” I quip.
She laughs and my father smiles indulgently, lifting his crystal tumbler of expensive bourbon and taking a sip.
“How’s our girl?” he asks. “The hospital treating you well?”
My father is a cardiothoracic surgeon. One of the most prominent and well-respected cardiothoracic surgeons at that. He does lectures all over the world. He’s been named Top Surgeon at Brigham and Women’s hospital about a dozen times in his tenure. As I mentioned, all of his sons are also doctors, though not all surgeons.
I am the only nurse. The only girl.
But I know my dad secretly loves this about me and it has nothing to do with any form of misogyny. I think he enjoys that I mixed things up just a little. My one rebellion in my otherwise overly organized life.
“It is. I’ve been floating around between the SICU and the MICU and I love the ICU so much more than the ED. No more traumas or swabbing for the flu or strep throat or being thrown up on by kids.” I glance around our small room, at the lack of other seating. “Am I the only one tonight?”
“Yes. It’s just us tonight. Are there any men in your life I should know about?” my mother asks without skipping a beat though there is a tentative—but still hopeful—hitch to her voice. It’s her standard follow-up question to my father’s about the hospital.
I shake my head, my expression blank. Honestly, I’m not sure why she asks when she already knows the answer and knows I have no intention of changing it. In six years of asking that question, I’ve yet to respond differently.