I haven’t had time to check on Elizabeth since I did her daily ultrasound this morning. I’ve been slammed with patients because one of the other residents went down with a stomach bug and I had to take over all her cases. But I take a minute to stop by the nurses’ station to look at her chart.
“She’s doing great,” Abby says. “Still some minor bleeding today, but her BP is good and fetal heart tones are normal.”
“Good,” I mumble, perusing the chart. I flip to the back of the file and look at the pictures from her first ultrasound in the ER a few weeks ago. It was an extensive one. One that clearly shows the baby’s gender.
Elizabeth doesn’t know it, but she’s having a girl. I’ve had to catch myself sometimes when referring to the baby, and of course there is that note I wrote on the inner flap of her chart to alert staff that she doesn’t want to be told.
I try to picture her as a mom. My gut tells me she’ll be a good one. She’s calm, collected, and funny. And she loves sports, well baseball anyway. But she never talks about becoming a mother. She’s only ever mentioned the one time that this was unexpected. Maybe it’s because I’m a guy. Perhaps she’ll talk about it more when the girls come to keep her company.
“Someone special finally coming to visit her?” Abby asks, nodding down the corridor.
“What?” I ask, closing the chart and putting it away.
“Elizabeth,” she says. “She’s seemed giddy all afternoon, and she put on makeup and fixed her hair. Figured someone was coming to see her. The baby daddy maybe.”
I look down the hallway, not able to help the smile that overtakes my face. Elizabeth’s room is right at the end of the hall, so I have a clear view into it. I can see her sitting on the bed reading one of the pregnancy books Mallory brought her.
Abby must follow my gaze. “That girl is a strange breed,” she says, narrowing her eyes as she studies Elizabeth. “Every other patient spends hours a day on their phone or laptop. I’m not even sure Elizabeth has a phone. And the girl never complains. Not when I wake her up at six in the morning to take her vitals. Not even when she gets served crappy hospital food.” She laughs. “Oh, Lord, today is meatloaf day—bless her heart if she doesn’t complain about that.”
Abby gets called away and I’m left staring down the hallway.
I’m pretty sure Elizabeth has a phone. She called me once. But maybe she borrowed one. I pull mine out and scroll back to the day she called me. I find the number and tap on it to place a call.
Elizabeth looks up from her book. She looks scared. Shit, I didn’t mean to scare her. I guess she’s not used to hearing her phone ring. She lets it ring a few times, then she puts down her book and reaches over into her side table drawer.
She pulls out something that looks like a discount store phone, definitely not a smartphone, but one that probably only calls and texts. She closes her eyes briefly before answering. Maybe she’s saying a prayer. Maybe she wants it to be the baby’s father. Maybe she’s about to be heartbroken that it’s just me calling.
I see her bring the phone up to her ear. “Hello?” she answers tentatively.
“I forgot to tell you not to eat dinner,” I say.
“What?” She looks anxious as her pinky finger finds her mouth.
“Elizabeth, it’s Kyle. I wanted to make sure you didn’t eat the meatloaf. It’s horrendous. I’ll take care of dinner, okay?”
“Kyle,” she says my name in a rush of air that sounds an awful lot like a relieved sigh.
Then she looks at the ceiling and smiles. She smiles big.
Lucky fucking ceiling.
“The game starts at seven,” she says. “I’ll be starving by then. I might have to break out some Jell-O.”
I laugh. “Don’t you dare. We’re going to finish what we started. No cheating and doing it without me.”
“Okay. See you at seven,” she says.
“See you then.”
I disconnect the call and watch her stare at her phone. She runs her fingers across the keys longingly. Lovingly. Maybe she’s hoping someone else will call.
But that smile. That sigh. Could it be mine was the call she wanted?
“Kyle?”
I look up from my trance to see Gina trying to get my attention. She looks down the hall to where I was staring. “That your homeless patient?” she asks.
“She’s not homeless, Gina,” I say defensively. Maybe a little too defensively based on the look on Gina’s face.
“Is that so?” she asks, studying me.
“Hey, have you seen Cameron today?” I ask, trying to distract her. “I heard he was going to assist on a reconstructive surgery.”
“I think he’s doing it right now,” she says. “Hey, maybe the three of us should go celebrate his accomplishment later. I mean, I’m on call tonight, but I could sneak across the street to Happy’s and toast him with a Diet Coke or something.”
She wants to see me outside the hospital? Well, not just me, me and Cam, but still . . . me.
I peek down the hallway to see Elizabeth reading her book again. “Uh, can’t tonight. But yeah, some other time maybe. That could be fun.”
She smiles at the prospect. Then she looks around to make sure we’re alone. “Room 1320?” she asks with a raised brow.
I can’t help but steal another quick glance towards the room at the end of the hall. What is wrong with me? I’ve got all kinds of shit going through my head right now. I can’t think straight. My thoughts are all over the place. I’m thinking of blurred lines that have already been crossed. Vows I’ve made to help those I can. Unspoken promises between Gina and me.
“Sorry, I’m swamped,” I say. “With Morgan out sick, I’ve got a lot on my plate. Rain check?”
She studies me again. Then she looks down the hall. “Yeah, I can see how busy you are, Dr. Stone. I guess I’ll catch you later.”
As she walks away, my eyes ping-pong between her and Elizabeth’s room.
Fuck.
My uncomplicated life just got a lot more complicated.