Alice eyes me for a moment before asking me what should be a simple question, but is probably the most terrifying. “How are you?”
I open my mouth to say fine, but what comes out is the truth. “Anxious.”
“About what?”
Placing the package of chocolate aside, I lean forward until my head falls into my hands. “Too much, Alice. I don’t know where to start.”
“Well, let’s start with the physical symptoms and then we’ll go to the emotional ones. Are you still experiencing pain at your suture site?”
I lift my head and my lips curl briefly before I shake my head. That, at least, is one good thing. “I’ve been a good little patient and gone to all my physical therapy appointments.”
“That’s good. Dizziness?”
“No.”
“Headaches?”
“Does Aunt Em’s singing count?” I half-heartedly joke since Alice has known my whole family for years and appreciates what a disaster it is when my aunt tries to carry a tune.
She snickers. “I’ll take that as a no. What about fatigue?”
I surge to my feet and immediately pace. “I’m exhausted.”
“You are? You indicated you’re getting enough sleep.”
The words erupt as if they’ve just been waiting for the chance to burst forth. “I’m tired of waiting.”
“Can you expand on that?”
“I’m in limbo. If I’m not waiting for the doorbell to ring and a ‘special delivery’ to arrive from my favorite psychos, I’m on an emotional spin cycle. I’m tired of waiting to go back to a job I trained for seven years to do. I’m afraid at any moment, I’m going to curl up in a corner and have to go through breathing exercises. That makes me pissed as shit I’m still not as confident as I want to be before I have to go back.”
“Why?” Alice asks curiously.
“Why what?”
“Who says you have to bear the weight of confidence in the ER?” Before I can answer, she holds up a hand. “At least right away, Laura. You endured a major trauma. You were shot in the workplace. You saw people you considered your work family gunned down and killed because you did your job.”
Wearily, I flop back into the chair. “That’s right. I did my job.”
“Everyone agrees you’re not responsible for the actions of a psychopath,” she reminds me, not for the first time.
“Then why does it feel that way?”
“Because you have a compassionate heart and want to stand before the people you consider yours. It’s what makes you an incredible leader, Laura. It’s absolutely what makes you an incredible human. But you are just that—human. You’re not expected to be Wonder Woman.”
“It’d be easier if I was, so I could be certain I wouldn’t fail when I return to the ER.”
Alice sidesteps my not-so-subtle question. “What do you remember?”
“Christ, Alice. We’ve been over this.”
“What do you remember after the shooting?” she persists.
“I remember crawling and seeing the bodies!” I snap.
She slowly exhales before marking something down on a notepad. “Okay.”
“Okay? That’s it? So, I’m free to go back to the ER?” I hold my breath while I await her judgment.