Fire and Rain
Carly's routine the following morning was much the same as the day before; the only small difference was that her mind lay squarely in the room of Katherine Williams. The air felt less crisp that day; she was less bundled when she reported for duty. Sally met her in the on-call room with a smile and a stack of files.
"This enough to keep you busy until noon?" She asked, snapping her gum.
Carly smiled wanly.
Her day was filled with paitents in varrying degrees of bloom and decay; each case contained an element to which she was sympathetic, it seemed. Carly hadn't understood what her job meant to her when she quit training, had never fathomed, that when she quit nursing she'd want to go back. But it felt good to be a vital cog in the lives of the helpless.
She passed by Katherine Williams' room several times that day; her eyes lingered across the comatose woman's slack, placid face as she passed. Steve was there each time; his eyes never leaving her face.
Carly listened to her collegues whisper about the man during her lunch break. He had been quieter, more polite than the day before; calmly composed. Carly felt a burning urge to see him, to study his sister.
Her eyes fell across a pile of case files that Sandra, a fellow RN, was going to attend to that day. The name Williams, Katherine jumped out.
No,, she thought to herself, That would be the old Carly. The old Carly would switch files behind someone's back to get what she wants. I can't go back to that time.
Sandra moseyed up to her at the exact moment she decided not to switch the files. "Carly, I know this is asking a lot of you, considering that you're only halfway through your case file load. But John needs to get a new set of caps put in, and I'm his ride. Would you mind taking what I have left? I'll make it up to you; remember the Saturday you wanted off? I'll work a double shift..."
Sandra always talked too much when she was nervous that she would be told "no". Carly gave her hand a comforting pet, "I'll take care of it."
So good things DID happen to those who waited...
Carly rushed through her routine, slowing down enough to insure each paitent quality care. At last, her final case loomed before her.
She lay the palm of her hand against Katherine Williams' door, but shouting prevented her from entering the room.
"...Could've stopped it, Chris. How the hell can you NOT sense that someone's depressed enough to blow her head off?"
"I've been hovering over her ever since Tina was born. God, Steve, she never gave me a hint, not a fuckin' sign that she was hurting this bad!"
"You're her husband! When dad walked her down the asile, it became YOUR job to see that she was OK. I knew you couldn't do it....weren't worth a shit when I met you."
"Steve, calm the hell down. I don't see you blaming the NRA for the fact that she's allowed to..."
"This has NOTHING to do with gun control, and everything to do with you keeping her happy!" Steve was screaming at this point. Carly decided to intervene for their own good.
Steve stood by the chair he had been occupying for the past 24 hours, his eyes fixed glassily on Chris. They both came to the abrupt realization that they had been screaming loudly enough to attract a nurse to the room. Steve rubbed his temples as Carly looked from man to man, abashing them. She couldn't believe the difference between the men. Chris was gangly, his dark hair greasy and hanging in slick curls around his shoulders. He wore a multi-colored and a washed-to-the-point-of oblivion Greatful Dead teeshirt, stained kakis and sneakers. He appeared to have been roused from a deep sleep; he had been, by the look of anguish in his eyes. His life with Katherine had appeared to have been one.
Carly decided to exert her authority at that moment, "Gentlemen, this is a hospital. You both have rights as Ms. William's next-of-kin. But if you're unable to control yourselves, you will be removed by seccurity."
Steve didn't fight back, to her surprise. He seated himself. Chris hovered in the background, listening.
She bent down, taking Katherine's vitals. They were a bit stronger than when she had arrived, but she hadn't improved much. She was stable, but unconcious, and very weak. She explained that to the men.
"Is there any hope for improvement?" Chris asked.
"You'll have to speak to her phisician." Carly explained.
Steve said nothing, his eyes on Katherine.
Carly knew that she could offer them no help from her position. She talked to Katherine's attending, a Dr. Sherman, the most expensive nurologist Steve could find. "She's clinically brain dead, Nurse Benson." He flatly said, "I had hope she might waken, but it's been 24 hours. The brain was deprived of oxygen for ten minutes, twice within a total of a half hour. If she does awaken, she'll be a vegetable."
"You've told this to the next-of-kin?" She asked, trying not to choke on her own mixed emotions.
"I'm going to now," He explained, witdrawing her case file.
Carly briefly bobbed her head, a signal that she understood. And then she walked away.
It was best at a time like this to be distant. She was oddly attached to the case, but she knew that Steve and Chris might become violently angry. Having had enough experience with hair-trigger tempers in her lifetime, she chose to stay away.
She punched out, checked her schedule, and picked Michael up from daycare. It was later than usual, and the boy was asleep, his rosey head drooping against her shoulder as she bundled him against the colder air. She caught the subway instead of the bus, wary the whole way. When a familiar voice shouted "Nurse Benson!", she leaped to her own defense.
It was Steve Williams.
She smiled, softly. "Mr. Williams?" She asked.
Steve came forward, his face reddened from the cold. "Hey," He said, then he caught sight of the boy. His face wrinkled; as if remembering. Then he regained concentration. "I heard that you play pool," He explained. "Wanna shoot some with me?"
She couldn't believe him, "You left your sister to ask me out?"
"Chris wanted to be alone with her. I decided not to push."
Carly nodded, and for a moment, her care-free, single days returned in a heady rush. Then the weight of her baby brought her back to memory, "I can't go anywhere, Mr. Williams. I need to watch my son."
"He's yours?"
"Of course."
"Ah." Steve answered, looking awkward. The silence streched out until the subway screeched to a stop, throwing him into her.
"Sorry!" He exclaimed, pulling her upright and comforting a now-frightened and crying Michael.
"It's OK...shshh...It's OK, Michael..."
Steve expetrienced another flash of memory.
"Mr., If you like, you can come to my appartment, but there's no way we can go out tonight. I need to make sure Michael's OK."
Steve nodded. She allowed him to follow her to her appartment.
"Wait here," She told him as he stepped onto her front step. She entered the appartment, undressed, re-dressed, and put Michael down. He slept instantly. She buzzed Steve up then, and soon he stood awkwardly in the appartment.
"Can I get you something?"
"A beer."
"I don't keep beer around." Carly explained.
"A soda?" He asked. She complied, taking one of her own. They sat down together on her couch.
"What's the ulterior motive, Steve?" She asked, tired and wanting answers, "I know you're not here just to chit-chat."
Steve sighed, "The doctors told me that it doesn't look good for Katherine," He admitted, "But I know you have faith in her. So I want you to help her heal. There's got to be something you know that they don't."
Carly was taken aback.
"So yes, I'm asking you to go behind the hospital's back. I'll do anything: experimental treatments, gene therapy; anything. I have money," He looked through her with his desperate, needy blue eyes, "What do you say, Nurse Benson? I'll make it worth your while."