Page 22 of Scrubbing In
I felt ashamed for the hookup happening in the first place. For going against what has been a hard and fast rule ever since the text message incident with Merritt’s then-wife calling out his affair with a scrub tech during my orientation.
It was chaotic and messy, and the drama from his personal life spilled over into the OR because I hadn’t been the only nurse in that situation. After that day, his phone regularly blew up during his scheduled surgery days, as if his wife knew otherpeople would be reading those messages. The difference was that I had only told Charlie, but one of the other nurses shared all the details with someone else, and soon everyone was talking about it. It still makes me shudder from the nastiness of it all.
From the beginning, there have been a handful of times I’ve witnessed both single and married coworkers get romantically involved. While not all of those instances have ended badly, they are widely talked about by the staff. Yes, I’ve been guilty of doing it myself, but only with Charlie, of course.
The Operating Room is a world unto itself. Being a sterile unit, it is contained and locked away from the rest of the hospital. Very few people have authorization and access to go beyond the locked doors and red line. You spend lots of time with the same group of people, all while performing high-pressure jobs. With our patients mostly unconscious, one of the ways that valve of pressure is relieved is with very unfiltered and lots of times NSFW conversations—ironic, I know. And the staff gossip about one another. A. Lot. The thought of being the object of their overly speculative—and many times invasive—gossip makes me feel sick to my stomach.
It had to have been a coincidence when the flowers were delivered. And I don’t know how, but Julian knew I was spiraling. In his own way, he was trying to comfort me, take the shame away, and place the blame solely on himself. But I was an active participant in our encounter—averyeager participant.
So, with that note, I thought,good, we can call it square. But then, why was I disappointed by the thought of that being all I ever got of Julian?
That quickly morphed into annoyance at myself and my rollercoaster of emotions.This is a good thing, I thought wildly, and programmed his number into my phone. I sent him a message with two words.
Me:Thank you.
I tried to ignore the pang of regret that bloomed in my chest, attempting to drown myself in work that evening by bringing home the next staffing schedule.
Except he sent me a text the very next day. And the day after that. Soon, I had a whole string of messages. Nothing too serious. Sometimes it was a joke, a random thought, his favorite cereal, why he preferred Starry to Sprite.
I found myself smiling, soaking up those little pieces of him. I knew it was foolish to let it continue. I should have told him to stop texting me. But . . . I didn’t. I liked his attention. It was steady and sweet, and he was funny and endearing. I began looking forward to what he would say next.
And that brings me back to equally dreading and looking forward to his imminent return.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Leena
My office door flings open,and just as I look up, I’m hit in the face with a pack of laparotomy sponges.
“Hey!” I shout, startled at the unexpected interruption only to relax when Charlie smirks at me.
She hops up on the corner of my desk, bumping my tumbler with her hip, reflexes quick enough to catch it mid-topple. “Case got canceled. Patient ate.” She pauses to open my candy dish, shrugging as she fishes out a few gummy bears. “So I grabbed the laps and towels for home. I know how much you love them for cleaning.” She tosses the towels in my lap with the sponges.
“Awesome.” I tuck the pilfered goodies into my bag, then I sit back up. “So, then what are you guys doing?”
“Nothing else scheduled . . . Yet,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “We’regoing to lunch early though, so put whatever you're working on away and let’s go.” She grabs my arm to tug me up.
Laughing, I grab my phone and check the screen before tucking it into my back pocket with a frown. Charlie tilts her head at me, but I ignore her unspoken question, looping our arms together.
On our way to the cafeteria, my eyes are on a constant swivel, searching the hallways for the face that has been haunting myevery waking thought. At a table tucked into the corner of the still quiet cafeteria, I push food around my plate with my fork. Tapping my screen once again to see if I missed a message notification.
Still. Nothing.I flip it over, pushing it away with a rough flick of my fingers.
Charlie sets her soda down with a weary sigh. “Okay, you have to talk about it already. Especially because he’s going to be here soon.”
Biting at my lip, I glance at her before looking around the room to see if anyone is close enough to be listening to us. Besides a few people wearing visitor badges, I don’t see anyone we know because we came down before the lunch crowd.
With my thoughts racing, I’m unable to respond right away.
I know Julian officially started at Palmetto Regional yesterday, getting settled in with all the mandatory onboarding rigmarole. He’s supposed to follow Connor for a few days starting tomorrow before he takes his first week-long shift starting next Tuesday. That is almost two weeks of interactions looming before me.
I’m not ready.
Not to mention, I’m currently crashing out because he’s been texting me daily, mostly early in the morning, for the last couple of weeks since I used his number from the note card. But today has been radio silence. His light hearted text messages always bring a smile to my face, and even though I was hesitant to reply at first, he never failed to send another no pressure message the next day. They quickly became a part of my morning routine, leaving me with a giddy feeling for the rest of the day.
I bring my hand up to nervously chew on my cuticle, but Charlie grabs it, firmly pressing it to the table. She implores me with a concerned look. “Leena, I haven’t pushed you this wholetime to talk about whatever happened between you guys. But you’re makingmeanxious with your worrying about him!”
“He hasn’t texted me,” I blurt out.
