Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 75(@200wpm)___ 60(@250wpm)___ 50(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 75(@200wpm)___ 60(@250wpm)___ 50(@300wpm)
TJ laughed as his eyes jumped back and forth between the two of them.
“She’s your family, huh?” TJ asked, still chuckling.
“She is,” he started but his aunt finished the sentence.
“Not anymore. I’m taking him out of my will. Can you drive me to my attorney’s home? He charges enough to be awakened in the middle of the night.” Aunt Vera sat back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest, and stared straight out the front window. That had TJ barking out another laugh and Derek rolling his eyes at her joke. At least he hoped she was joking, he never knew for sure with that woman.
He didn’t waste any more time. He leaned forward to give her a quick peck on the cheek and patted her linked fingers on her lap before he closed the door. Derek absently lifted a hand to wave as he jogged the few steps inside. He stopped in his tracks and let out a sigh when he saw the overcrowded waiting room still packed to capacity and no end to the line of patients coming through that door.
~~~
The fast-paced, atmosphere of the night was exactly the kind of challenge Justin enjoyed. Everything around him buzzed with energy and activity, constantly pulling him in many different directions. These kinds of nights reminded him of his time on the front lines. Every deployment had him in the trenches, setting up make-shift triage units and administering care to those who needed it the most.
Those wounds had been dramatically different from the ones coming through Tulane, but he loved the hustle and bustle. It was familiar to him, a sort of security to his unsure soul. Something that kept his mind too busy and away from the thoughts of his self-proclaimed somewhat fucked-up mental state.
His last patient had been a bleeder. Partyers didn’t make great patients. This particular incident involved a blade-brandishing drunk. Alcohol and knives never mixed, no matter how skilled the trickster thought he was at wielding the blade. They never seemed to learn.
Using his backside to push open the swinging doors, Justin stripped off his scrubs top and tossed the blood-soaked fabric inside the designated bin before grabbing a clean shirt.
“How’s it going out there?” Justin jerked, quickly looking over his shoulder, seeing a guy working his shoes off and tossing them in a locker. He’d thought he was alone, and he was usually more cautious about his surroundings.
“Slammed,” Justin said, trying to remember the guy’s name.
“Welcome to the night shift.” He heard the locker shut as he struggled the shirt over his head.
“I like it busy,” Justin finally added after a moment’s pause. The guy came to a stop in front of him, a backpack slung over his shoulder. Apparently he wanted to talk. “You off?”
“Yeah, I stayed to help out, but I gotta roll. It’s different than the field?”
Justin wasn’t sure how to answer the unexpected comment. It didn’t sound like a question, so he looked closer at the man to see where this line of conversation might be coming from.
“You doing okay in the transition?”
That had Justin narrowing his brow. As he originally suspected, he should know this guy. He absently looked down at the legs of his scrubs for any leftover blood as he willed himself to remember where he should know him from, but after a minute, he cut his eyes back up and scanned the guy’s face.
“You don’t remember me, do you? I’m Jack with EAP…the employee assistance program. I met you briefly in orientation. I’m the social worker you’re supposed to check in with.”
“That’s right. Sorry about that, man,” Justin apologized, remembering now and doing exactly what he did in orientation when he met the guy. He ducked his head, went for the sink, and scrubbed his hands, ignoring all questions. This guy was all about talking about feelings. No way was Justin into any of that touchy-feely crap and especially not with this guy.
“No problem. Everything going okay?” Justin looked up to see Jack standing behind him. Their eyes met in the mirror. Justin sighed internally and tried not to wince. Jack wasn’t going to be so easily avoided this time.
“Sure,” Justin offered and glanced down as he rinsed the soap off his hands.
“Adjusting well to civilian life?” the guy asked.
“Sure,” Justin offered again, pumping more soap on his hands. He thought the “everything going okay” question covered it all. Why were they still talking?
“You probably wouldn’t tell me otherwise, would you?” the guy asked. Justin waited until he reached for the hand towels to answer. Clearly, Jack wasn’t going anywhere without something from him.
“No, probably not…” Justin answered honestly and tossed the paper towels in the trash. When Jack’s face changed to speculation, he figured the truth wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “I mean, I know you’re there if I need anything.” He felt proud of thinking of that response.