When You're Expecting Something Else (8 page)

BOOK: When You're Expecting Something Else
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I sigh deeply. A sense of relief escapes in my breath just knowing I don’t have to endure anybody’s pity. She’s inquiring about my physical health following the accident, that’s all. I answer honestly, “I feel fine. No lingering aches or pains, just a bit of worry about Jared Wise, the man who was driving the car. I didn’t know him well, having just met him. He’s in ICU and I’m hoping they’ll let me in to see him.”

 

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” she says matter-of-factly. “You’re on staff now. Hold on, I’ll get your badge.” She leaves briefly and comes back with the thick plastic nametag that identifies me as a staff nurse on Medical-Five. “If you want to swing by ICU right now, you can borrow my white lab coat, just bring it back before you go home.”

 

I slip into the lab coat and fasten my nametag to its pocket. “Thank you,” I say with a genuine smile. People are so nice here. I just know I’m going to love working here.

 

“Call me Sara,” she says when I leave her office, as if we’re already friends. I think about her as I weave my way through the maze of hallways to the elevator that will take me up to the second floor ICU. Sara looks older than me with gray hairs mixed in her otherwise dark curls. In the family photo behind her desk, she’s posed next to a slightly chubby man with three school-aged children in front of them. They’re all dressed for hiking in the country with backpacks stacked alongside a Jeep Grand Cherokee, all of them wearing LL Bean style clothing. It reminds me of how much I used to enjoy hiking before I met Alex.

 

Maybe Sara’s not so much older than me. It’s hard to tell. She probably has worries about her children. If I’d started earlier, I could also have three school-aged children and worries about them, turning my hair prematurely gray. I surprise myself with my thoughts. I’d never thought about it like that before. Melancholy threatens to wash over me again, but I arrive at the ICU Nurses Station before it gets a chance to grab hold. Jenny, Jared’s nurse, sees me immediately and smiles a greeting. “Hi, I see you’re feeling better,” she says, pointing to my lab coat and nametag. “You’re already back to work?”

 

“No, not yet,” I confess. “I came in to talk with Sara Ianovich in Personnel. She loaned me her lab coat so I’d look clinical enough to visit Jared. How’s he doing?”

 

“The same, though the doctor wants to try weaning him off the respirator tomorrow morning.” She walks me towards his bed where I see a young woman dressed in Calvin Klein jeans, topped with a mauve colored short-sleeved jersey, sitting at his bedside. Her long, thick, sandy-colored hair looks lustrous and shiny, like from a Clairol commercial, and is pulled back from her face with a tortoise shell hair clip. She looks young, attractive, and stylish.

 

“This is Marta Lewski,” Jenny introduces. “She’s employed by Jared’s aunt to be a sitter/companion to him until she can come in to be with him herself. His aunt is traveling on business somewhere in Europe right now. Marta will be communicating with her regularly, and keeping her informed of his condition.”

 

Marta greets me with a reserved smile, but makes no attempt to engage me in further conversation. I’m relieved to see that some action has been taken by Jared’s family to oversee his care.
 
I explain to Marta that I was in the accident with Jared, but that I don’t really know him well, that I have his cat Isabella and will be able to take care of her until they let me know when they want her back. “I left the keys to his house on the kitchen counter when I left. No one had been there at all, so I brought in the mail, too,” I add.

 

“What’s the address?” she asks, pulling out a gold colored pen and pretty purple bound notebook from a Gucci tote bag.
 
She writes down the information as I give it to her. “I’ll take care of it and report to his aunt,” Marta says, with a very faint accent, Eastern European, I think, but I’m no expert.

 

“I locked the keys in the house, on the kitchen counter,” I remind her, and then wonder if that had been smartest thing. Now how would she get in?

 

“Maybe if you call the security company and explain that you’re representing the family, they might give you an access key.” I give her the name of the company, but explain that I’d left the alarm turned off, just as I’d found it.

 

“Please, you don’t have to worry about anything. If the cat is a bother, I can make arrangements somewhere. Do you want me to do that?” she asks, businesslike, not friendly.

 

“Oh, no bother,” I reply. “I love having Isabella with me.”

 

We agree that I’ll keep the cat for now, and that Marta will take care of the unfinished business at Jared’s house, with his aunt’s permission, of course.

 

Marta takes a short break to go to the rest room while I visit with Jared. I look down into his pale face, the ventilator tube taped in place, his eyes shut, medical machinery humming all around. Tears spring to my eyes unexpectedly. “Oh Jared, I’m so sorry all this had to happen! Please, please, get better soon,” I plead, vowing to make it my business to keep track of his progress even if there is nothing tangible for me to do.

 

 

 

My five minutes with Jared is up all too soon, and I’m back in the Nurses Station talking with Jenny. She introduces me to the other nurses charting there. I explain that I’ll begin working on Medical-Five in two weeks, but until then, I’d still like to come to check in on Jared regularly. We chit chat for a while, and it feels so good to be talking to other nurses again, awakening that special feeling, the bond that healthcare professionals share. I long to be a part of that camaraderie again, and know that in two weeks I will once again have a place where I belong.

 

“So, how do like San Jose so far?” a bubbly nurse named Anne, dressed in lavender scrubs and with a matching lavender stethoscope around her neck, asks me. “You’re going to find there’s just so much to do in this area. I moved here from Minnesota last year, and I love it! It’s especially good for single women. I have so many dates. If you’re looking for dates, believe me, you won’t have any problems.” She scribbles her phone number onto a square of paper and hands it to me. “Call if you ever want to go out. I can show you around.”

 

I think about dating as I leave the ICU and walk back to the elevator. I remember that I joined that online dating service from Starbucks my first day in San Jose. I’d almost forgotten with everything else going on.

 

 

 

Chapter Ten

 

I feel like I’ve hit the jackpot when I finally check my messages on
datesforall.com
. Thirteen men, potential dates, have sent me inquiries.

 

“Wow, Isabella, look here, Mr. Rock-hopper wants to show me all the dirt bike trails in the Bay Area. All I have to do is buy a mountain bike. Mr. Tri-athlete here wants to take me Alcatraz to show me where he swam in the Iron-man, whatever that is. Look at all his muscles.” Isabella cuddles on my lap while I think about how to respond.

 

Then I attempt to create a simple spreadsheet to keep track of who’s who. I label a file called
in-basket
for those I want to respond to, and create another called,
drag-and-drop
where I can classify those who are clearly not a match, like the fifty-five year old grandfather who clicked the box identifying himself as a person who doesn’t want kids. “I guess he means no more kids,” I tell Isabella. “Seems, he should have thought of that before.”

 

By the time I’ve sorted through the thirteen profiles, I see that three more potential dates have sent me inquiries, and my stomach is growling with hunger. Isabella has long since left my lap. I notice that darkness has settled outside my apartment windows. When I get up to close the blinds, I’m startled when I turn back around. My little apartment has been transformed. It looks like a cozy little nest. There are soft, muted cushions on my rental couch, plants with climbing green vines in my kitchen window, and colorful wall hangings contrasting with the previously stark, white walls. Soft music plays in the background while my open computer all but hums with life.

 

Earlier, I’d spent hours prowling around San Jose, finding both quaint little shops and big box stores to browse through, shopping for home furnishings to accessorize and decorate with. I see I’ve done a good job of adding color and warmth to what had previously felt empty and barren.

 

By the time I finish chopping vegetables for my chicken and shrimp stir-fry dinner, the aroma of sautéed onions and garlic all around, I feel awash with satisfaction and gratitude. It’s an odd feeling in place of the earlier melancholy. It’s been so long since I’ve felt such a total sense of wellbeing. It feels like all is right with the world. I know I’ve made the right decision, coming to California to start my new life. Hope for my future looms large. Right after dinner, I’m going to reach out with my phone and call my new friends, Anne and Regina, the nurses from the hospital. It’s time to build my new life.

 

I test crunch a carrot from the pan while mulling over my thoughts. “Isabella, I’m going to send out three responses tonight, too. I want to date, to play the field and meet new men,” I say. The plenty of the bounty has made my previous sense of desperation recede into the background, making me feel whole and normal again. I’ve all but forgotten about Alex. I’ve put my grief for my parents back into the container box behind my heart.

Regina’s not home when I call her house. Her husband says she’s gone to a book discussion with some neighborhood ladies. I think about that, and how little I know about her. Just hearing her husband’s voice makes me want to know more about her. I wonder what kinds of books she read, and what’s her husband like. I know she doesn’t have children because she’s told me so.

 

I explain that I’m just calling to chat, that I’m new in town, and Regina doesn’t need to call me back tonight, that I’ll be working with her at the hospital in a couple weeks.

 

“Oh yeah,” he says with a friendly voice. “Regina told me about you. How are you doing anyway? You got banged up in that car wreck, didn’t you?”

 

“Yes, that’s me. I’m fine now, though, focused on settling in,” I say.

 

“I’ll tell Regina you called. By the way, she says you’re single and I should warn you, she’s going to try to play matchmaker. She’s always trying to find someone for my brother,” he adds, and I can hear a teasing smile in his voice.

 

“Well, that might be fun,” I say bravely with a chuckle. “I don’t know many people here yet, so I won’t say no.” We hang up then, and I shake my head to myself, amazed.

 

When I call Anne, I tell her about my bounty of men. “I told you,” she says with excitement. “We should get together and compare notes. I’m on
datesforall.com
, too. I might know some of the guys you’re hearing from. All I can say is stay away from McCool01. He’s really weird. Is he on your list?”

 

I check my in-basket and don’t see him there, but find his name in my drag-and-drop file. “Already rejected,” I say.

 

“Smart girl,” my new friend says. Then we make plans to get together the following evening for some more girl talk at my place.

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

Marta Lewski picked Jared’s house keys up off the kitchen counter and cradled them in the palm of her hand, examining each one with experienced eyes. They would be easy to duplicate, but with a new idea brewing in her mind, that might not be necessary. Calling the locksmith to change the locks would probably make better sense.

 

Getting into the house had been a piece of cake. Knowing from Connie Harrison’s admission yesterday that the security alarm was off, she’d simply walked through the gate into the backyard. From there, it’d been easy enough to jimmy the back door lock using the small, inconspicuous tool she carried in her tote bag. Now all she had to do was formulate the rest of her plan, and sell her new idea to Cassandra and Kaitleen. She’d called them earlier, and they were both due to arrive imminently with Chinese take-out, which couldn’t be soon enough. Her stomach was grumbling. She hadn’t been able to eat since breakfast with her nerves revved up, worrying about actually being able to get into the house without getting caught. Now, though, everything was falling into place so smoothly that she had to remind herself not to get careless.

BOOK: When You're Expecting Something Else
3.31Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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