typea_all (3 page)

*****

I checked my answering machine. 

     Ryan called.

     "When am I going to see your new place?  I miss you. Talk to you later."

     Ryan lived in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, just across the bridge from Philadelphia. When I lived in Philly, it was about a 30-minute drive between our places and we got together pretty often, usually at his place.  Now that I moved to Longport, we're about one hour apart, and I haven't seen him much in the last three weeks. I haven't asked him down to Longport yet, and I've been busy weekends getting my new place set up.

     Ryan is the sweetest, nicest, and horniest guy I ever knew. He was married to a real bitch about 15 years ago and the breakup left him with a few scars. About a year before his divorce came through he went to the doctor and had a vasectomy. "There is no way I'd want to be responsible for the continuation of that bitch's species," he said.

     Maybe he takes blame for the breakup. Whatever the reason, he is very attentive, very entertaining, and very sexy. Wouldn't think a guy in his fifties, and balding, could be so damn sexy, but he is. He works out and stays in shape. Just over six foot, about 175 pounds, and a great ass. He even goes along with my cleaning thing, as best as he can.

     Adam called.

     "Hi. It is Adam. The sun was out before but now it is dark. I'll be watching television; so don't call before the news. It is Adam. Bye."

     Adam's my uncle. Not a real uncle, but a very close friend of my mom. My dad left us when I was just an infant, but Adam was always there when I needed a father figure. Well, sort of there. Adam is like a six-pack minus the plastic thing that holds them together. I mean, he has all of the right parts but nothing seems to be synchronized.

Sometimes he can be childlike, as if he's seeing and hearing things for the first time.  When I was little, we'd play together for hours and get in trouble together. It was like having an older brother who liked playing the same games as I did. At other times, he'll speak about the most complex issues as if an authority, holding his own among experts in their fields. When I ask him how he knows so much, he just smiles and shrugs his shoulders. Adam doesn't work, and has no known source of income, but always seems to have money. 

     From the stories he tells, I think that years ago he spent some time in an institution of some sort. The details of his stories keep changing but a few threads are usually present: some doctor he hated, some woman he loved, and some medicine that made him see rainbows.

     Adam called a second time.

     "Hi. It is Adam. I forgot. How was your job? Remember, don't call before the news. It is Adam. Bye."

     No more calls. Finally, I had time to myself so I called Ryan back. He was out, so I left a message on his machine. It was too early to call Adam, so I called my friend Marcie.

     "Hey Marce."

     "Hi Brooke. How was the first day?"

     "Just great. I love it. Wonderful. Listen, I need to think about something pleasant, so how about we meet at the Deptford Mall Saturday morning and do a little shopping."  Deptford Mall is about halfway between our places, not too far from Cherry Hill, and Ryan.

     "Sure thing. I need some stuff. Meet you at the entrance at 9 sharp"

     I took out a container of leftovers from the fridge. During the weekend I cook extra food so I can eat quickly during the week. This container held meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I made a salad, but the phone range just as I was starting to eat. 

     "Brooke, it's Dr. Lipschitz."

     He's never called me at home, and the first time we met he told me to call him John. Now he's Doctor Lipschitz.  I would have been worried, but I had this picture of him holding the phone to his ass while he talked.

     "Hi, John. What can I do for you?"  I figured calling him John instead of Dr. Lipschitz, would help establish our relationship.

     "Nothing really.  I just wanted to see how your first day went."

     What should I say?

     "Fine." Where did that come from?

     "That's good. I wanted to be there to show you the ropes. Did Joan handle everything?"

     "She's a doll. Everything went swimmingly." I heard that phase in an old movie somewhere.

     Silence for about 15 seconds, so I finally added, "It all came right back to me, like I never left the field."

     "That's great. I was just checking. I'll see you in the morning."

     "Bye."

     The thought of seeing him in the morning ruined the rest of my meal. I ate the salad but put the rest back in the freezer.  I cleaned up and then watched the tape of my soaps and did some email.

     At about 11:15 I called Adam.

     "Hi Adam. What's up?"

     "Brooke, hi. How was the job?"

     "Just wonderful. How are you doing?"

     "Not bad. Did you know that Leonardo da Vinci was left handed?"

     "I didn't know that. Thanks."

     "So were Picasso, Rubens, and Raphael."  I thought Rubens was Pee Wee Herman.

     "Really?"  You just had to let Adam fly sometimes and see where it got you.

     "And only five presidents have been left handed -- Garfield, Truman, Ford, George Bush the First, and Clinton."

     "You don't say?"

     "And I read on the Internet that left-handedness might be caused by brain trauma at birth."

     "Mmmm."

     "That's why left hand turns are harder to make than right hand turns. I always wanted to know why."

     Oh, now I understood.

     "So, Adam, got any fun plans in the works?"

     "No. I'll talk to you later. Late Night is about to go on."

     He hung up.  I spent a few minutes trying to make some sense out of the conversation, and then realized that it was classic Adam. It made no sense at all.

Chapter 3

     When I woke up for the second day on the job, my blanket was on the floor on top of my nightgown, and the window was open. I retrieved my nightgown and stumbled toward the bathroom, stubbing my toe on the dresser as I went. I screamed and grabbed my foot, and then fell backwards back into the bed.

Whether it's just age, or a slight redistribution of my weight towards the middle, I walk into things a lot these days. Ryan says I need to have curb feelers attached to my legs. He had to explain that people used to put them on cars so they didn't drive into the curb. I guess it's a guy thing; hitting the curb is when I know I've parked close enough.

     I laid in bed about ten minutes nursing my foot, wondering if it hurt bad enough that I should call in sick. Then I figured staying out sick with a stubbed toe on the second day at the job was a little extreme. I'll save the stubbed toe excuse for next month.

Rather than wear a uniform, I put on white jogging pants, a white t-shirt and a white sweatshirt, with a clean pair of sneakers and socks. Although I looked like the neighborhood ice-cream man, I felt more comfortable. Tonight I would go to the store and get some cool scrubs.

I need the two shirts so I could peel something off when I got hot, and then put something on when I get cool from the sweat. Hot spells are terrible. They start with an intense and uncomfortable heat building up in my upper arms, chest, neck, and face.  The skin on the outside gets warm and steamy, and I start to feel uncomfortable in my clothes.  The clothes seem to keep the heat in, like an oven door, and if you are close to me you can feel the heat radiating off. Sometimes I perspire or get dizzy, but I just need to get to something cool or shed some clothes.  After the heat goes away, I'm sometimes left with chills.

     I felt like I kind of struck-out with that patient the day before, so I wore my Baseball Snack earrings. One has a bat and ball; the other a glove and ball. Since I was wearing basic white, the colors didn't matter too much.

     I walked into the outpatient building slowly, looking for waiting lawyers and hospital security. I wouldn't be surprised if they hauled me down to the Somers Point courthouse and took away my ASCP certification.

     When you enter the building there is a small waiting area with two reception desks. Straight past reception is the lab where I work. To the right are a small x-ray section and a series of labs where some of the tests are actually performed; a lot of the tests are sent out to other places for processing. To the left is a doorway leading to the in-vitro lab, although that had its own main entrance and lobby from the parking lot.

     When I walked into my lab I got a smile and warm hello from Joan.

     "How did everything go yesterday?" Joan asked.

     Was that a trick question?

     "Just fine. I cleaned up and left a few minutes after 5."

     I looked around. No sign of yesterday's mayhem.

     "I do have one question, though," she said. Here it comes. "I found this lab sheet for Mr. Reynolds, but no tubes."

     "Mr. Reynolds? I remember. Came in about 4:59 but left before I could take his blood." But not before we blood wrestled on the flood and I threatened the life of his penis. "He must have been in hurry or something.  I just cleaned up and left."

     "That's all right. I'll put the form on the board, he'll probably be back."

     God, I hope not. Unfortunately, God wasn’t listening to me that day. Where was she when you needed her?

******

     A few hours later, "Brooke. The phone for you."

     "Hello"

     "Brooke?"

     "Yes. Who is this?"

     "We met the other day. Jason Reynolds."

     Jason. I didn't know any Jason. Oh no, Jason Mr. Reynolds.

     "How did you know my name?"

     "I just asked for the new girl, and they said that must be you, Brooke Castle."

     "Listen Mr. Reynolds." I tried to whisper so no one could hear.  "I'm really sorry about the other day, but you panicked."

     "That's okay. I'm not holding anything against you.  I admit I don't do well in any kind of hospital setting."

     "I mean, I did everything I could. And I'm really sorry about the tourniquet thing. I really can't tie it with one hand." I figured that's not giving away trade secrets.

     "That's fine, really. It was all my fault."

     "If you come back to the lab, I'll get one of the other techs to take your blood. You may feel more comfortable with someone else."

     "Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I want you to take my blood. I like your spunk."

     Gee, what an honor.

     "It's just that I can't have it taken at the lab again. I wouldn't want a repeat of the same thing."

     "Well, there are other labs in the area. I'm sure your doctor will give you their addresses."

     "I don't want to go to any lab. I want you to take my blood, but here at my home, this evening."

     "I'm sorry. But I can't do that."

     "I'll pay you directly."

     "It's just not a professional thing to do. I'd have to clear it with my boss..."

     "I'll pay you $200."

     "I'd need to get the supplies, check with the hospital..."

     "Make it $400"

     "I couldn't be alone with you."

     "Make it $600 and my wife will be there all the time."

     "That's a lot of money just to have your blood taken at home. I mean..."

     "Listen, Brooke. I'm a very respectable citizen here. I have a very big business and I make lots of money. I just can't stand being in hospitals. We'll even keep the door open all the time. Check with your boss."

     Six hundred dollars would buy a lot, and I was starting to run out of my savings. I hadn't been paid yet by the hospital, and the Corolla needed a new set of pinstripes.

     "All right, let me check with my boss. Can you call back near the end of the day?"

     "Sure. And thanks."

     "No promises yet."

     The thought of making six hundred extra bucks for a few minutes work sounded great. Too great, I admit, but a girl can dream, can't she?

     I walked over to John's office, which was in the main hospital building a few blocks away, but the door was locked. I could tell he was in because I heard noise from the inside.  So I knocked. Twice. Three times. Four times. I can be very annoying. In fact, Ryan says my tombstone should be engraved, "She lived to annoy."

     "What is it?" he yelled from the inside.

     "It's Brooke. Brooke Castle."

     The door opened a crack, so I could see his face but nothing else.

     "Yes?"

     "I could come back later if you'd like."

     "No that's okay. I have to leave soon. What can I do for you?"

     "I got a call from Jason Reynolds..."

     "Jason Reynolds? He runs the biggest company around here."

     "He needs his blood taken but he wants me to do it at his home in the evening."  I left out the part about the six hundred dollars.

     John was distracted, kept looking back into his office.

     "Are you sure I shouldn't come back? I mean..."

     "No. I told you I have to be leaving soon. What was that again?"

     "Mr. Reynolds wants me to come to his house tonight and take his blood. I told him I'd have to check with you."

     "It's fine, you can do it."

     "I can?"

     "Listen. Jason Reynolds is a big player around here. One of the biggest. If he wants you to take his blood, or give him an enema, it's okay with me."

     That was not a pleasant thought.

     "What about supplies?"

     "Just take whatever you need from the lab. Make sure you have the labels for the tubes, and drop the tubes at the main lab in the hospital when you're done."

     Then he closed the door in my face.  I was going to tell him about the $600 but never had the chance. That was his fault, not mine.

     When I got back to the lab, I mentioned how strange John seemed.

     "You didn't actually knock when the door was closed, girl?" Joan asked.

     "Yeah. Why not?"

     She looked at the other girls. "I guess we should have warned you."

     "About?"

     "Well, we're not exactly sure what goes on inside that office."

     "I can guess," giggled Gail. "Just use your imagination."

     "Sometimes he locks the door, and you hear strange noises all the way down the hall. We never know if someone is in there with him, or..."

     "Some thing is more like it."

     "Anyway, we don't know for sure. All we know, from experience, is that he doesn't like to be disturbed, and none of us want to get that close to find out what's going on in there."

     "Well, I had to knock a few times before he opened the door. He really didn't open it all the way, just enough so I could see his head."

     "Did he have clothes on?"

     "Couldn't tell. And I don't want to know."

******

Reynolds called back at 4 pm and asked for "the new girl."

     "Hey new girl, it's for you."

     "Hello."

     "Brooke. This is Jason Reynolds. Is everything set up for tonight?"

     "Yes, I checked it with my boss, and he said I can do it. I still feel a little strange, but I guess it’s okay."

     "Don't feel strange at all. Even doctors make house calls. Just think of it as a house call. I'll have the money for you, my wife will be here, and I promise I won't fall on the floor. Now take down my address."

     His address was in a fancy section of Linwood, just up Shore Road from Somers Point. Linwood is an up-scale community of big houses, high rollers, and casino executives. The houses on the bay side are more expensive because they have views across the bay to Atlantic City.

     After work, when everyone else left, I gathered two sets of the tubes I needed, a sheet of labels with Reynolds' name on them for the tubes, and several pediatric needles. I figured I should be prepared. I also took a lot of gauze and alcohol. 

     I drove up to Shore Road, and then headed north into Linwood.  This was the first time I was in that area since I moved here.

     Once out of Somers Point, you pass a mile or so of middle-income houses, and then the houses start getting bigger and more expensive. I drove slowly so I wouldn't miss the turnoff, and had some time to look around.