Authors: Kristin Vayden
“I’m not sure, but it will pass. You’ll not feel this way forever. I promise you that,” I said as I released the armband and put the cuff away.
“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one—” He sprang up and dry heaved into the toilet.
“Drinking something will make it hurt less,” I offered, reaching for a glass.
“Damn, my abs are on fire.” He croaked as he slid back down to the bathroom floor.
“At least you won’t lose any definition,” I remarked lightly as I filled a glass. Immediately I hoped he hadn’t noticed my slip up as my face heated.
His head lifted and he gazed at me curiously, a small grin tugging at his lips. “So you noticed?” His grin grew wider.
“Yes. Of course I did. I also noticed that yesterday your lips weren’t nearly as chapped which means today you’re dehydrated. If you don’t begin drinking water I’m going to give you an IV. In other words, I’ll have to poke and prod you till I find a vein that won’t roll over and you will have to pretend you don’t want to throw things at me.”
“How do you do that?” His eyes narrowed and he seemed genuinely interested.
“Do what?” I felt my brow furrow.
“Every time I try to… never mind. You just take everything fun and make it into business or something I need to do differently. I’m going to start calling you Mom,” he grumbled and laid his head back.
“I’d rather you not.”
He mumbled something I couldn’t understand. I reached out to grasp my iPad and turned to leave.
“I wasn’t always like this. I’m
not
always like this,” he whispered then turned to gaze at me with his haunting eyes.
“How were you?” I set my iPad down and leaned against the countertop.
“Different.”
“I’m assuming that was what you were implying… how so?” I crossed my arms casually.
“I was in control of myself, my future. I had everything, I
have
everything. But it spiraled out of control.”
“Your addiction?”
“Yeah. I never meant—”
“People never do.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I needed — I had to prove… If I didn’t then it would have all been on me, my fault. I couldn’t handle that. I couldn’t, not when I had never measured up to begin with.” He sat up and leaned his back against the side of the tub, running his fingers through his disheveled brown hair.
I waited in silence for him to continue.
“I had to stay awake, sleeping was wasted time. If I slept then I’d miss something important, then I wouldn’t be where I needed to be.” He exhaled heavily. “So when a friend offered me a hit, I took it, desperate for anything to keep me alert, awake.”
“And now you’re here,” I finished, clarity dawning as I began to understand.
“Yeah, but this isn’t who I am… it’s not… Only, what if…” He paused and rubbed his face in his hands, then pushed his hair back, causing it to stand on end.
Thankfully the seriousness of the conversation had eliminated any humor, or else the sight he presented would have caused me to roll on the floor. He looked younger, more free and like he had electrocuted himself.
“What if…?” I prompted.
“But what if I go back and I can’t do it without the drugs?” he whispered, closing his eyes. After a moment he glanced up, his expression pleading for hope.
I pushed off from the counter and bent down to face him eye to eye. “You can’t.”
“Thanks for the hope, Dr. Phil.” he muttered and dropped his head back letting it rest on the edge of the tub. His gaze fixed on the ceiling.
“No, you don’t understand.”
“Damn, I hope not. Either way I don’t think you should quit your nursing career to be a motivational speaker.”
“Be that as it may… what I’m trying to say is that you cannot do it all on your own. You need assistance, to delegate. If you continue to take the path you started, the path you are correcting right now… you’ll die. Plain and simple. You cannot do everything you were doing, from the sound of it. You have to choose what you want to live for, and decide if it’s also worth dying for.”
“If I fail then I might as well die.” He gazed at me with resignation.
“If failure is your greatest fear and you’re willing to die to prevent it, then you, Greyson Bentley, have never had anything in your life worth living for.”
He gazed at me silently. I could see the wheels turning in his head as he thought over my words. I prayed they made sense, that I was able to articulate the truth. Fear should never motivate, that was love’s job.
“So, Dr. Phil…”
I rolled my eyes.
“Any other wisdom to hand out while I’m weak and useless?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t give up.”
“Easily said.”
“Not so easily done,” I finished.
“Yeah.” He studied me, narrowing his eyes slightly as if trying to figure me out. Unwaveringly, I stared back.
Greyson leaned his head back, closing his eyes. I took the opportunity to study him closer. He drew me in. Against my will I felt my resolve to remain detached begin to falter. What was difficult was that I couldn’t pinpoint why. What captivated me about him and pulled me away from everything I knew? The attraction I felt was a false hope, telling me a lie because attraction to Greyson could only end in heartbreak. Clearing my throat, I glanced away, resolving to keep my distance.
“Mr. Bentley?” Dr. Solomon’s voice startled me and I realized just how close I was kneeling to Greyson. Alarm shot through me over how the situation could look. I started to rise but Greyson reached out and grasped my hand, preventing me from moving. In a panic I pulled my hand away just as Dr. Solomon walked into the bathroom, a curious and strange expression clouding his crystal gaze before it was replaced with a cool professional demeanor.
“Miss Holton.” His gaze was slightly cautionary.
“Dr. Solomon.” I stood, casting a quick warning glance to Greyson. His gray eyes danced with humor and amusement.
I raised one eyebrow and turned to Dr. Solomon. “Mr. Bentley is continuing to vomit and I’m concerned about his fluid intake. Would you recommend an IV?”
Greyson mumbled something under his breath, momentarily distracting Dr. Solomon.
“I think some IV fluids would be helpful at this point. We don’t want any setbacks.” He paused and bent down, evaluating Greyson. “Go ahead and set it up. I’ll stay to make sure all goes well.” He gave a polite yet stern expression, which in turn, caused Greyson to glance away.
“I’ll be back momentarily.” I felt Greyson’s gaze follow my departure.
When I returned, Greyson was lying on top of his bed with fresh clothes. Dr. Solomon was nearby tapping on his iPad.
“Here you go.” I began setting up the IV next to the bed. After opening the plastic sterile packages I took out the rubber tourniquet.
“Shit, this is going to suck,” Greyson whispered then turned away, his eyes closed and his jaw locked.
“You didn’t strike me as the type who hated needles.”
“Yeah, well. There’s a reason I never tried heroin.”
“Too bad you can snort cocaine, huh?” I responded.
“Yeah,” he agreed, but his body grew rigid as I wiped a small area with an alcohol pad just below where I tied the tourniquet.
“I promise to not hurt you intentionally,” I murmured, trying to put on a reassuring front as I began tapping his veins.
“Comforting,” he replied sarcastically.
“Can you flex your arm?”
He began to open and close his fist and a vein began to bulge. I waited a few extra moments and then slowly inserted the needle, making sure I kept the vein.
“There. Done.” I released the rubber knot and began to tape the pick in place on his arm.
“What? You’re done?” Greyson’s confused eyes searched mine before darting down to examine his arm.
“Your body’s healing, you might not
feel
that way, but it’s true,” I said, then made the mistake of making eye contact with him.
His gaze was deep, searching as if responding to something inside of me I didn’t know I even had. I was a captive, unable to break away as I utterly lost myself in his swirling depths. He didn’t look away either, but his gaze grew in its intensity, and I saw a flicker of the man he could be, the man he would be one day.
“She’s forgetting to mention that she’s extremely good at what she does,” Dr. Solomon said distractedly. I had completely forgotten he was even in the room. I glanced back to him, thankful to discover he was still tapping on his iPad. Even so, I took a few steps back away from Greyson’s bed and began to gather up the discarded sterile packaging and moderate the drip line for the IV.
“You’re to rest this afternoon. The more fluids we can get through you, the easier it will be for your body to filter the toxins out. After an hour or so, I’ll have Miss Holton bring you some lunch and we’ll hopefully get it to stay down this time.” Dr. Solomon’s voice held quiet authority, but with a gentle tone that contrasted with that of other doctors I’d worked with.
“Miss Holton, Please notify me if Mr. Bentley continues to deal with the nausea. I’ll be back in a few hours.” Dr. Solomon then left.
“The cold sensation is kinda weirding me out.” Greyson shivered and gave a disgusted glare at his arm.
“You’ll get used to it.” I shrugged and gathered my iPad.
“Crackers.” He called out as I was tossing away the last of the garbage.
“Excuse me?”
“Crackers, when you come back with lunch, I want — I would like you to being me some crackers… please.” He leaned back on his pillow, closing his eyes.
“I’ll see what I can do. Crackers shouldn’t be a problem…” On a whim, and curious about his change in attitude, I went over and studied the IV bag.
“What are you doing?” Greyson asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Making sure I’m only giving you fluids.” At his confused expression I continued. “Your change in attitude had me momentarily concerned.”
“Ha ha. Funny,” Greyson mumbled petulantly.
I couldn’t help my grin.
“That’s better, more like you. Heaven help me if you started being nice.” I chuckled as I headed for the door.
“Why?” Greyson called out, leaning up on one arm and regarding me closely.
I paused and glanced over my shoulder. “Because then, Greyson Bentley, I might actually like you.” I teased and began walking again.
“Challenge accepted,” he called out just as I reached the door. A wide smile grew on my face.
I stepped into the hall and noticed Dr. Solomon leaning against the opposite wall watching me.
“Dr. Solomon, can I be of assistance?” I asked politely, folding my hands in front of me. His blue eyes searched mine for a moment. The doctoral indifference slipped away for a few moments before returning, cloaking his emotions from sight.
“Have you had lunch, Miss Holton?” he asked as he pushed off from the side of the wall, taking a step toward me.
“No, I haven’t.”
“I’m meeting some staff members in the cafeteria in a few moments. I thought it would be a great time for you to meet a few of your coworkers. You’ve been sequestered in this wing and haven’t had the chance to be introduced.” He grinned, showing off a dimple in his left cheek that I hadn’t noticed before.
“That would be great. Thanks.” I smiled back, fighting against my shyer nature.
“Fantastic!” He clapped and held out his hand toward the cafeteria. “I wanted to commend you on your work with the IV. That was one of the smoothest insertions I’ve seen in a while. You’ll be in hot demand once it gets out that you’re that steady.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling a blush heat my cheeks as his compliment warmed me.
We ordered and I followed him to a large round table where several other people in green scrubs or white coats were already eating.
“Hey, I wanted to give our new nurse intern a chance to meet everyone. She’s on exclusive duty so she hasn’t gotten a chance to meet very many people. Miss Holton, this is Dr. Remington and Dr. Moore.”
Dr. Remington was a short balding man with bushy black eyebrows and a thin-lipped smile. His eyes were warm though, and he held out his hand to shake mine. Immediately, I noticed the warmth and strength of his grip. As I smiled back, it struck me that he reminded me faintly of my uncle.
Dr. Moore was a tall blond woman in her early fifties. Her hair was cut in a professional bob and her white coat was pressed perfectly, matching her immaculate manicure. She reached out to shake my hand as well, but it was a cold and weak grip, her smile even less potent.
“Dr. Remington is the head of our counseling department and Dr. Moore is one of our general practice doctors we keep on call. Most of our treatment stems from drug-related issues, but occasionally we have other injuries that come into play as well. That’s where Dr. Moore comes in.” Dr. Solomon gestured to her.
Once she was the center of his attention, a coy smile replaced her cool polite one, giving her a beautiful yet predatory expression. I glanced between her and Dr. Solomon with curiosity. Dr. Solomon seemed utterly oblivious, and as soon as he glanced to the next person, her gaze traced his body with unabashed interest.
“This is Nurse Jinks and Nurse White, both are in the same field as you, only they work in separate wings. Nurse Jinks has been here for…” He trailed off, narrowing his eyes.
“Five years,” Nurse Jinks completed, standing up and offering me her hand. Her hair was cut short in a pixy style that gave her a fairylike appearance. The smile she gave me was warm, open, and I immediately liked her.
“I’ve been here four.” Nurse White rose and shook my hand as well. She was older, almost to retirement age. Her white hair was swept up in a bun and her face was etched with smile lines. Her hand was soft and warm as she shook mine.
“I’m pleased to meet all of you.” I smiled at them collectively and then sat.
“You’re from the Philippines, right?” Nurse Jinks asked, leaning forward with a curious and excited expression.
“Yes. My parents were born in America, but shortly after I was born, moved to the Philippines to work with their poverty-stricken inner city. They teach adults how to read and write after they complete their detox program.”
“Where did you do your formal schooling then?” Dr. Moore asked, her face slightly frowning.