Night Shift (I promise the story's better than the title.)
Bright lights and long corridors seem to give the hospital this eerie feeling, especially looking outside at the pitch black sky. Nothing’s ever out there and nothing is even moving, and yet for some reason it’s more entertaining than doing the paperwork. Doing rounds has you meeting the same people with the same problems on different body parts and yet the empty black windows are less monotonous. I just have to get up. Walk around a little. Get some exercise, grab a smoke.
The chair spins away as I leave the desk behind and remember...
“Pisiform, triquetrum, lunate, scaphoid…”
“Shut up.” She paused. I made her lose her place.
She put her left pointer back on her right palm and began again in counter-clockwise circles. “Pisiform, triquetrum…”
“Seriously! Take a break and let me watch TV.”
“There’s a test tomorrow. How the hell will you pass it?”
“With how much you chant the bones of your mother fucking hand, how the fuck can I fail?”
I’m sure she thought of leaving. I didn’t know why she didn’t but I was glad she stayed.
The bright light in the dead of night just feels fake. Like it just shouldn’t be this bright. The yellow umbrage of the lamp almost gives the impression of warmth. But surrounded by all that black…
I tug at the sleeves of my coat and begin my jog, thinking...
“So what after that?” She paused for a response. She'd obviously been downing the past few drinks to build up the courage to ask me.
“Nothing.” I waited for her to say more. She's thinking. “Well...” Thinking. “Nothing. We go there and that's it.” Thinking.
“So I'm supposed to leave med school for nothing and go nowhere for no reason?”
Thinking.
I have a decision to make. I couldn't do it last time, but I have to decide tonight. No, tonight won't be better. I'll never be able to make up my mind! I don't notice jabbing the lamp post on my passing until the pain interrupted my thought.
I'm stuck in a loop. I'll never get out.
She sat over the balcony, her tears falling seven stories. I couldn't say anything to stop her and knew she would jump. Yet, still her feet remained grounded precariously on the edge.
She was leaving behind her homework completely done and error-proof. An alphabetically organized collection of notes and flash cards. And centering her masterpiece of human perfection, she would leave behind her spell checked and well written suicide note.
I couldn't say anything to stop her. All I could do was stand at the door and watch in shock, looking for any possible rationalization. She turned her head and saw me. I don't know why she did it. I selfishly admired her beautiful face with all those tears on it.
She didn't jump. She cried instead.
I don't notice jabbing the brick wall until the pain interrupted my thought.
The coffee here is warm and even the tables are to my cold hands. Even my cold hands are warm to my frozen nose. Even this practically empty room seems full with its warm yellow-brown hue.
“What can I get for you?” His face almost tries to emulate a happiness to serve me. Open and alert eyes matching his humble grin. A scary level of servitude.
I shake the cold off my coat.
“Nothing yet.” The menu is cluttered with everything I'd ever want. Everything I don't need. All giving me the illusion that I can find anything in their selection.
He waits so patiently for me to make a decision. Like I'm the only thing on his mind and like he'd be just as happy if I never made my move. He'd make a great chess partner.
“Just a mocha.” He gets right on it. Emulating the idea of being just all too happy to offer my some coffee. I take it and we exchange cash. I know he'll have to frown the moment I turn around. “You scare me, old man.”
He simply responds, “check mate.”
There was a second suicide note when I got back, but she wasn't prepared to take the plunge yet. I didn't know what to say so I just sat next to her. We sat like that until she had gathered the strength.
“I hate you more every day.” That was all that needed to be said. The silence felt like static on a TV.
“I never loved you.” I felt cold. I wanted to say, I need you. I wanted to let her know that she was my support. She hated me and was all I had. But at least I knew I was all she had.
“C'mon, I need alcohol.”
I figure they'll kick us out of the internship if I don't return to my desk. Even so, I bet I don't have to.
The work will probably be done. I could continue this jog as long as I want, I guess. But I'm already near the building so it's as good as over.
There's no trash receptor for a few hallways. I wonder if anyone would care if I just threw it in a sleeping patient's room. The cup feels heavy in my hand, but it's all I want to think about. It's the more preferable topic. Yet at the same time, I saw a trash can and took my opportunity. Now there's only one topic left...
I walk back to the desk and she's there doing my papers and covering my ass. The ring in my pocket feels cold and I can't imagine putting it on her hand this way. She's probably noticed me, but doesn't care. Her head id down far enough that the braid on the back of her head is visible.
“Do you...” She looks up and stares so intently that it almost seems more worth it to shut up and walk away. “...ever wonder if bald used to be spelled B-A-L-L-E-D?” Intensity turns to annoyance. “Like maybe it originally meant like when your head becomes a ball...so balled, B-A-L-L-E-D?”
“No.” The ambiguous answer one can attach so much meaning to. “I never think of such silly things.”
The chair spins away as I leave the desk behind and remember...
“Pisiform, triquetrum, lunate, scaphoid…”
“Shut up.” She paused. I made her lose her place.
She put her left pointer back on her right palm and began again in counter-clockwise circles. “Pisiform, triquetrum…”
“Seriously! Take a break and let me watch TV.”
“There’s a test tomorrow. How the hell will you pass it?”
“With how much you chant the bones of your mother fucking hand, how the fuck can I fail?”
I’m sure she thought of leaving. I didn’t know why she didn’t but I was glad she stayed.
The bright light in the dead of night just feels fake. Like it just shouldn’t be this bright. The yellow umbrage of the lamp almost gives the impression of warmth. But surrounded by all that black…
I tug at the sleeves of my coat and begin my jog, thinking...
“So what after that?” She paused for a response. She'd obviously been downing the past few drinks to build up the courage to ask me.
“Nothing.” I waited for her to say more. She's thinking. “Well...” Thinking. “Nothing. We go there and that's it.” Thinking.
“So I'm supposed to leave med school for nothing and go nowhere for no reason?”
Thinking.
I have a decision to make. I couldn't do it last time, but I have to decide tonight. No, tonight won't be better. I'll never be able to make up my mind! I don't notice jabbing the lamp post on my passing until the pain interrupted my thought.
I'm stuck in a loop. I'll never get out.
She sat over the balcony, her tears falling seven stories. I couldn't say anything to stop her and knew she would jump. Yet, still her feet remained grounded precariously on the edge.
She was leaving behind her homework completely done and error-proof. An alphabetically organized collection of notes and flash cards. And centering her masterpiece of human perfection, she would leave behind her spell checked and well written suicide note.
I couldn't say anything to stop her. All I could do was stand at the door and watch in shock, looking for any possible rationalization. She turned her head and saw me. I don't know why she did it. I selfishly admired her beautiful face with all those tears on it.
She didn't jump. She cried instead.
I don't notice jabbing the brick wall until the pain interrupted my thought.
The coffee here is warm and even the tables are to my cold hands. Even my cold hands are warm to my frozen nose. Even this practically empty room seems full with its warm yellow-brown hue.
“What can I get for you?” His face almost tries to emulate a happiness to serve me. Open and alert eyes matching his humble grin. A scary level of servitude.
I shake the cold off my coat.
“Nothing yet.” The menu is cluttered with everything I'd ever want. Everything I don't need. All giving me the illusion that I can find anything in their selection.
He waits so patiently for me to make a decision. Like I'm the only thing on his mind and like he'd be just as happy if I never made my move. He'd make a great chess partner.
“Just a mocha.” He gets right on it. Emulating the idea of being just all too happy to offer my some coffee. I take it and we exchange cash. I know he'll have to frown the moment I turn around. “You scare me, old man.”
He simply responds, “check mate.”
There was a second suicide note when I got back, but she wasn't prepared to take the plunge yet. I didn't know what to say so I just sat next to her. We sat like that until she had gathered the strength.
“I hate you more every day.” That was all that needed to be said. The silence felt like static on a TV.
“I never loved you.” I felt cold. I wanted to say, I need you. I wanted to let her know that she was my support. She hated me and was all I had. But at least I knew I was all she had.
“C'mon, I need alcohol.”
I figure they'll kick us out of the internship if I don't return to my desk. Even so, I bet I don't have to.
The work will probably be done. I could continue this jog as long as I want, I guess. But I'm already near the building so it's as good as over.
There's no trash receptor for a few hallways. I wonder if anyone would care if I just threw it in a sleeping patient's room. The cup feels heavy in my hand, but it's all I want to think about. It's the more preferable topic. Yet at the same time, I saw a trash can and took my opportunity. Now there's only one topic left...
I walk back to the desk and she's there doing my papers and covering my ass. The ring in my pocket feels cold and I can't imagine putting it on her hand this way. She's probably noticed me, but doesn't care. Her head id down far enough that the braid on the back of her head is visible.
“Do you...” She looks up and stares so intently that it almost seems more worth it to shut up and walk away. “...ever wonder if bald used to be spelled B-A-L-L-E-D?” Intensity turns to annoyance. “Like maybe it originally meant like when your head becomes a ball...so balled, B-A-L-L-E-D?”
“No.” The ambiguous answer one can attach so much meaning to. “I never think of such silly things.”