Forever Sheltered (6 page)

“I don’t know yet. I’ll figure something out.” She huffed out a rueful little laugh. “Maybe I’ll marry a doctor and give up on the whole career thing. Pop out babies and complain about my house cleaner.”

“Can I meet with this guy? Talk some sense into him?” I thought about Albert, and Toby, and the teen girls with cancer. And Cynthia. “He has to know the trauma some of my patients are going to feel if I just disappear.”

“You couldn’t get to him if you tried,” Sabrina said. “He doesn’t exactly make himself available to the little people.”

“Watch me.”

Sabrina held out her arm. “Tina, don’t. It’s not worth it. He could really make a mess for you. Technically, your working here broke a lot of rules. There’s no telling what he might do.”

I plunked back down in a chair. “You must have really been desperate to bring me on, then.”

“I didn’t think it would be as big a deal as it was.” She set the folder on the table, and I saw it was my personnel file. “I thought we could get you certified once you were established.”

“I don’t even get to say good-bye to anyone?”

“He wants you out and the records gone,” she said.

I reached for them. “I’m not above blackmail,” I said.

Sabrina shoved them away. “You don’t even want to go there,” she said. “He’s gotten doctors stripped of their credentials. Nurses blacklisted.”

“Why is he even here, then? It’s a hospital!”

“It’s nice to think that everybody has the patients’ interests at heart,” she said. “But really, it’s all about careers and power.” She sighed. “At least once you’re above the peons like us.”

I glanced at the clock. I should be having another class, Cynthia’s little group, in fifteen minutes. “Have my other classes been canceled?” I asked.

Sabrina nodded, her flaming hair dancing around her face. “All the nurses have been notified not to bring patients down.”

I wondered how long until Dr. Darion would check on Cynthia and find out I was gone. If he would step in.

For a moment I let myself focus in on him, his smell, his hands on my skin. That encounter felt like a lifetime ago already. I wondered if he could do anything to stop this.

But Marlena said he’d only been here a couple months. He probably didn’t have any pull. And if this director was as horrible as Sabrina said, it wouldn’t matter anyway.

“Do you need a box or anything?” she asked.

“I have one,” I said. “Let me just gather a few things.”

“I have to get you to sign this,” she said. Reluctantly, she pulled a sheet of paper from inside the folder. “It’s a nondisclosure and an agreement to stay off the premises.”

“Why the hell would I sign that if I’m already fired?”

“Withholding of your last paycheck,” she said meekly.

God, what a lunatic. If I signed it, I couldn’t come back and say good-bye to Albert or Cynthia. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to pay Corabelle’s rent on the apartment I was subleasing from her.

But you know, the thing about agreeing to stay away is that it relied on something important — getting caught.

“Give me that,” I said. I scrawled my name across the bottom.

They’d have to arrest me.

Chapter 10: Darion

I was back at the nurses’ desk checking the paper records against the glitchy iPad software when I saw Tina out of the corner of my eye.

She looked even angrier than usual, and she’d taken her ponytails out. Maybe someone had suggested she not wear them anymore. I could imagine that would rile her. Now that I knew about her lack of a bra, it was hard to keep my eyes from drifting to the sweater. But the corded weave was thick enough to hide it. She was pretty slight.

The memory of her skin beneath my hands made my blood pressure rise.

When she got closer, I saw she was carrying a box with a potted plant sticking out the top, some books, and various odds and ends. Another woman, one of the social workers, if memory served, walked alongside her. She didn’t seem too happy either.

I knew I shouldn’t speak to Tina, but I couldn’t help it. “Leaving early today?” I asked. It dawned on me as I said it that she hadn’t had her art class with Cynthia yet.

“Leaving for good is more like it.” She turned away from me and punched a button on the elevator.

When her words actually sank in, I strode over and grabbed her arm.

She looked down at it and raised an eyebrow as if to say, “Again?”

I let go. “What do you mean ‘for good’?”

“I got fired,” she said.

Now my blood boiled. “Who found out?” Charles wouldn’t dare tell anyone about our encounter in the surgical suite.

She rolled her eyes. “Not that.”

This made the other woman snap her head around and look at us. God, I could already see the rumors trailing through the halls, as visible as kite strings.

The elevator dinged. “I’m apparently not qualified,” Tina said. “That time you called me the art teacher? I’m not even certified for that.”

The doors opened, and she stepped through.

Damn it.

I looked left and right, not sure what to do. Impulsively, I dashed into the elevator as the doors were closing.

She and the retro social worker were the only ones inside. “What about Cynthia?” I asked.

Tina shrugged. “I’m out. And I’m not allowed back on the premises.”

“That seems a little extreme.”

“They don’t want me to make a ruckus.”

“You struck me as the kind of person who likes a good ruckus.”

Tina stared at the list of floors and wards printed on the wall.

The flame-haired social worker peered at my badge. I resisted the urge to turn away.

“Dr. Marks,” she said, “I would advise you to stay out of this. It’s a personnel matter.”

“But I have a patient who will be dramatically affected by Tina’s unexpected departure,” I said, knowing the words sounded false.

“We have already identified a qualified candidate for the position,” the woman said. “There will be minimal disruption to the schedule.”

The elevator stopped. We were at the bottom floor. Panic started to rise in me. Cynthia would be devastated. She wouldn’t eat. She would go into a vicious cycle of nausea and lack of appetite. Mental health affected physical health. I knew this to be a fact.

The two women stepped out. I was about to lose her. God, I couldn’t let that happen. I followed them. “I would like for us to go to HR right now,” I said. “I want an explanation.”

The social worker stared at me from behind black cat’s-eye glasses. “I assure you that you do not want to do that. This goes all the way up.”

“Then I’ll take it all the way up.” Hell, what was I saying? I was in hot water with HR myself after taking a two-week leave of absence only two months into my tenure at the hospital. But Cynthia had to go to Houston. I had to see what our options were beyond St. Anthony’s.

Tina spoke up, her voice unexpectedly soft. “Darion, I’ll find a way to see Cynthia, okay? I’ll figure it out.”

The way the social worker shot daggers at her told me that her job was probably tied to Tina’s obedience on this matter.

“I don’t have any way to contact you,” I said.

She smiled, which couldn’t have been easy under the circumstances. “But I know how to contact you.”

The two women crossed the broad atrium toward the exit. For all I knew, Tina didn’t even care. She could breeze out of here and never look back. And I would have to deal with the fallout for my sister.

I had no choice but to trust her. I had to hope she’d do the right thing.

Chapter 11: Tina

I collapsed on the sofa in Corabelle’s apartment. I officially could not afford it anymore, although I guess I had a month until I wasn’t able to pay. Sabrina assured me once we made it to the parking lot without further incident that I would receive my last paycheck in the mail within a week as long as I stayed away.

I reached into the box on the floor and lifted out Albert’s mermaid. I handled it carefully to avoid disturbing the soft clay. The girl who was me looked serious and sad. I wasn’t sure how I would find him to say good-bye. I couldn’t get on his ward even as staff.

“Maybe Albert can predict the future,” I said aloud, setting the mermaid on the coffee table. “Sad was just around the corner.”

And in the past. Loads of it. I was nowhere near the emotional upheaval that led to my scars, but every upset always brought my mind back to it, as though it were the measuring stick to gauge my current level of unhappiness.

I let myself drift to my happy spot, that bittersweet memory I called up whenever life got hard. Me and Peanut, curled up together on a hospital bed.

We had been alone, just me and the baby. Somewhere in this quiet space, after the doctor took off his monitor and said it was time, and when I noticed that he no longer moved anymore, we became a family.

I wasn’t close to my parents. I was a late-in-life baby, a surprise that came fifteen years after my older brother. He was out of the house, graduated and gone, before I was old enough to really know him.

What my parents called the generation gap, I called the Grand Canyon. I had nothing in common with the people who raised me. Once I had my own opinions about things, I was nothing but a confusing, ill-mannered hellion. I didn’t belong to them, and they didn’t belong to me.

But not Peanut. He had been mine. From that moment I found out I was pregnant until the nurses took him away to be cremated, he was mine.

I flopped back on the cushions to stare at the water-stained ceiling.

At this point, I couldn’t imagine having a life stable enough for a kid. But I lived vicariously through Corabelle and three-year-old Manuelito. I liked watching the boy if I got the chance. I could probably do it more now. He and I could be wacked-out maniacs together.

Eventually I would have to find another job.

I got up and started pacing Corabelle’s apartment.

Most of my stuff was still in storage. I hadn’t been able to afford to ship it here. I brought as many suitcases as I could get away with on the bus to San Diego when I moved here for the hospital job. I figured once I got a few paychecks under my belt, I could have the rest trucked over.

But not now. I couldn’t live much more cheaply than I was. Corabelle’s apartment was about as low as it got without living someplace seriously sketchy. And I’d avoided deposits or transfer fees by subleasing from her.

She lived here on a coffee-shop wage, so I probably could too. I kept things simple. Fancy didn’t suit me. It would be all right.

I dug my phone out of the box and sent Corabelle and Jenny a text.
So, is Cool Beans hiring?

Corabelle was probably in class. No telling with Jenny. She was skipping half her courses these days to hang out with her eccentric sugar daddy.

But the phone buzzed within seconds.

From Corabelle:
What happened?

From Jenny:
Glad you’re home. I’m coming right now.

I tapped off a quick note saying I’d been escorted from the hospital like a common criminal.

Within fifteen minutes, Jenny was barging through the door, her pink hair streaming behind her like cotton candy unraveling from a cone.

She yanked a giant pair of designer sunglasses from her face. “What the hell is wrong with those hospital people?” she asked. “I thought they signed some hypocritical oath to take care of people!”

I could only stare at her. Jenny had always been a little larger than life. Crazy colored clothes. Wild hair. An attitude to match. But today. Wow. Shiny black knee boots stood high on five-inch platforms. A teeny black vinyl skirt flared out below a matching jacket. A black and white striped sweater pulled it together. With all that lack of color, her hair stood out like neon paint on newspaper.

“Never mind,” Jenny said. “We’ll catch up after the delivery guys are gone.” She stood in the open doorway. “In here, boys!”

I came up behind her. “What is going on?”

“Frankie bought me another sofa. Like my apartment had one more foot of space!” She waved at two men standing by a truck.

Frankie was the movie director Jenny had hooked up with a few weeks ago. She dumped her poor teaching-assistant boyfriend in an instant and jumped straight into endless nights of B-list parties. Her picture had been in a tabloid last week, and she was still gushing about it.

“You’re having the sofa brought here?” I asked.

Jenny whirled around. “Corabelle has room. Besides, she’ll take her stuff, and then this place will be empty. And this beauty will be all yours!”

She stepped aside as the two men brought in a sofa that I instantly nicknamed “The Pink Monster.”

It had a rounded back that curved into the arms. Two fat cushions looked bouncy enough to launch you to the ceiling.

And it was fluffy.

Like a stuffed animal.

Or a bathroom rug.

Or a shag carpet from the 1970s.

Only now it was in my living room.

“Jenny, what the hell is this?”

She pointed for the men to set it down at an angle from Corabelle’s sofa and jumped onto it, striking a pose as though a magazine photographer would be snapping her for the cover of
Where Trash Meets Money
magazine.

The two guys headed out. I ran my hand along the fuzzy surface. “You’re really leaving it here?”

“It’s all yours, baby,” Jenny said.

I moved past it to sit on a sofa that
didn’t
look like a set piece for Strawberry Shortcake. “Why don’t you just tell him to stop buying you this stuff?”

Jenny flipped over on her stomach. “Have you lost your mind? These have been the best weeks of my LIFE!”

“Is he at least handsome and sexy?” I asked. Jenny hadn’t brought Frankie around to meet her friends.

“Oh, no. He’s short and balding and really into licking,” Jenny said. “Not that I mind that.” She rolled onto her back again, like she couldn’t get enough of the fur. “And temporary. I get that. I’m not looking to be Mrs. Short and Balding.”

“You sure you know what you’re getting into?”

Jenny sat up and began unzipping the boots. “I’m a plaything. I might as well have fun with it. I know where I stand.” She dropped the first boot with a sigh of relief. “Besides, you know how I feel about sex with strangers.”