Page 15 of Stone Vows

She scurries off to check on her new patients. Herfourpatients. I meander down the hallway towards myone.

I look down at the sole chart Redman assigned to me, wondering what I did to have her dislike me so much. Redman is older, my dad’s age. She’s a pit-bull. Worse than Manning even. But I can handle it.

Someday I’ll run my own clinic and have to answer to no one but myself. This is all a means to an end. A necessary road I must follow to get to where I want to be. But as I walk down the hall, breathing in the sterile hospital smell along with the occasional aroma of flowers, I know there is no other place I’d rather be. Redman can kiss my young American ass.Ma’am.

I walk into Elizabeth’s room and catch her watching ESPN Sports Center. I laugh. “Can’t work the remote yet, huh?”

“I can work it,” she says. “I love this show.”

I tilt my head and study her. Then I start to ask her a question but she holds her hand out to shut me up. “One second,” she says.

I stand back and put her chart on the table. I cross my arms in front of me and watch the television with her as the announcers go over the scores of some baseball games. I’m amused by how her eyes are glued to the screen.

When they go to commercial, she apologizes for being rude.

“No, you’re good,” I say. “It’s refreshing to see a woman so into sports.”

“Why can’t a woman be into sports?” she asks.

“They can,” I say. “But most aren’t.”

“Then most are missing out.”

“I agree,” I say. “I missed out for a lot of years myself. My schedule doesn’t always allow for sports. But I’m trying to make time for them again.”

“Good. You should,” she says. “Everyone needs something besides work, no matter how important work is to them. Sports are a good outlet. Even if you only watch.”

“Do you play one?” I ask. Then I motion to her belly. “I mean when you aren’t almost eight months pregnant?”

“I did a long time ago. But not anymore.” She looks up at the TV and then down to her bed, sad, like there is so much more to the story.

I don’t want to pry, so I look over at the whiteboard on the wall where her nurse’s name is listed. “Has Abby gone over everything with you?” I ask. “Do you have any questions?”

She shakes her head and then nods to the fetal monitor on her right. “Abby said I’m pretty much going to stay hooked up to this the entire time. I guess that means I have to get permission every time I need to pee.”

I laugh. “Yeah, you can’t do anything here without someone knowing about it. I hope you left your modesty at the door.”

She smiles. “Modesty has never been a problem for me.” Then her smile fades. “Being held prisoner, that’s another thing entirely.”

I feel for her. Being confined to a hospital room for weeks, or even a month in her case, has its fair share of issues. “Don’t worry, I’ll see if I can parole you from time to time. The hospital has a great courtyard.”

“Really?” she says, perking up. “With flowers?”

I nod. “Yes. There are flowers and trees and benches and a cobblestone path. Sometimes I sit out there to eat on nice days. I think they wanted it to have a Central Park feel.”

Then I look at her hospital gown. I know she wouldn’t want to be paraded around the grounds in it. “Do you have a friend or family member you can call to bring some of your things by?”

She follows my eyes down to her gown. “No, that’s okay. I’ll just wear this. I think I look good in blue.”

“You do,” I agree. Never have I thought a hospital gown was anything special to look at. And they aren’t. But maybe it isn’t the gown. Maybe it’s the woman wearing it and the way it brings out the blue in her eyes. “But don’t you want someone to bring your personal stuff over? You’re going to be here a while.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need much,” she says with a forced smile that lets me know it’s anything but true.

“You know, I don’t mind going to your place. You could give me a list of what you need.”

“I’m good, Dr. Stone. I carry makeup in my purse. Like I said, I don’t need much.”

Much?This girl literally only has the clothes on her back and the small purse she came in with. My eyes are drawn to her wrist when I notice the chunky metal dime-store bracelet on it that reminds me of one of those house-arrest ankle cuffs.

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