The only exercise I seem to get these days is walking to and from work. It’s two miles one way, a long walk by NYC standards, but the hospital is not in a part of town I’d choose to live in. Every time I can, I skip the subway and hoof it.
Walking home this morning, after watching Susan give birth, I can’t help but think of the pregnant patient I had last week. Elizabeth. I hope she followed up with the clinic. There are so many things that could go wrong if she doesn’t seek proper medical attention when she needs it. Bad things such as pre-eclampsia for her; and for the baby, cerebral palsy, fetal growth restriction, or even hypoxia.
I almost wish her bleeding wouldn’t have stopped. I wish it would have been bad enough for us to keep her in the hospital without endangering their health.
I find myself looking closely at every person walking a dog. I shudder to think she’s still out there being pulled along by a gaggle of furry creatures. She could fall. Hell, even if she didn’t fall, just the simple act of walking could cause her condition to worsen. But if she feels she has no other choice—if she truly has no one and has to pay the rent, she’s more than likely still working.
I see some dogs way up ahead and speed up my stride when I see a blonde head of hair atop a petite frame sporting a sundress on this hot July morning. I follow far behind the woman for a block or two. I suppose it could be her, but I’m not close enough to see.
“Elizabeth!” I call out.
She doesn’t turn around. I think I must be imagining things.
I need sleep. These sixteen-hour shifts can be brutal. But instead of hitting my bed after a shower, I get on my laptop and do an internet search.
Elizabeth Smith, dog walker, New York City.
I stare at what’s in front of me on the screen and laugh. I swear to God, Elizabeth Smith must be the most common name in NYC. Maybe even the whole country. I shut the lid of my laptop. Maybe a little too hard. Then I draw the curtains and throw myself onto my bed.
~ ~ ~
My ringing phone wakes me up. Shit. I forgot to silence it. But the clock on my bedside table tells me I’ve gotten a good eight hours of sleep. I reach over and grab the phone to see my brother calling. “What’s up, Chad?”
“Oh, man, I didn’t mean to wake you, bro. Did you just get off shift?”
“Got off this morning. It’s okay, I needed to get up anyway. I’m back on later tonight.”
“Do you have time to shoot some hoops at the gym?” he asks. “Mal is out with the girls and I’m bored out of my mind. Some of the guys will be there.”
Chad’s had a thing for basketball ever since he moved back from L.A. last summer. I agree to meet him at the gym after I grab an early dinner. On my way, I once again scan the streets for dogs and any blonde-haired girls on the other end of the leashes. This time I don’t see any.
The problem is, I can’t decide if I’m disappointed or relieved.
Someone runs up behind me and slaps me on the back. “Hey, Kyle,” Griffin Pearce says. “You here to shoot hoops?”
“Yeah, you?”
“Gotta win my money back. Gavin and Mason really took it to me last time. Hey, speaking of winning money, are you ever going to join us for poker on Monday nights?”
“I’d love to, man, but I’m usually working. Maybe in a few years when things calm down.”
“We’ll be here. And we’d love to have you anytime,” he says, opening the door to the gym.
Or should I say his gym. The one he owns with Gavin McBride and Mason Lawrence. The three of them are either married or engaged to one of the Mitchell sisters.
“I saw your wife yesterday,” I tell Griffin.
“Skylar told me you took good care of Jorge. Thanks for that.”
We see the other guys emerging from the locker room just as we head in. Ethan is the only one who’s not here. “Three on two?” I ask. “Ethan’s not coming?”
“Well, with you playing, it’s more like two on two and a half,” Chad jokes. “Ethan’s stuck working a case.”
“It won’t be so funny when I’m mopping the court up with your ass, old man,” I say.
“Fuck you,” he says. “I’m one whole year older than you. And a whole lot better looking.”
“According to the guy staring at you in the mirror,” I quip.
Mason comes over to shake my hand. “How you been, Kyle?”
“Can’t complain. Hey, thanks for the box seats. Great game the other day.”
Mason is the starting quarterback for the Giants. Since meeting him last year, I have a renewed love of sports. Medical school and residency don’t leave much time for sports, but I try to watch whenever I can. And Griffin is a huge Cleveland Indians fan so I’ve grown to like baseball as well.
“Hey, man,” Gavin says. “Nice to see we could pry you away from the hospital.”
“Hi, Gavin. How are Baylor and the kids?”
“Good,” he says. “Baylor just published her twentieth novel. It’s what the girls are out celebrating tonight.”
“Shit, really? Twenty novels? That’s great. Will your production company be making this one into a movie, too?”
He laughs. “Who knows. We’ve done three already. Life’s good, that’s for sure.”
“Are we going to stand here and kumbaya all fucking day, or play some basketball?” Chad asks.
Just as I turn to go into the locker room, my phone rings. I’m not familiar with the number. “Hello?”
“Uh . . . Dr. Stone?” a hesitant voice asks.
“Yeah, speaking.”
“This is Elizabeth Smith. I’m sorry to bother you, and you probably don’t remember—”
“I remember you, Elizabeth. Is everything okay?” My heart starts to beat a little faster. It’s the adrenaline rush.
Her shaky voice replies, “I don’t think so. I’m bleeding again. And it’s worse than before. It won’t stop.”
“What’s your address? I’m calling you an ambulance,” I say, turning around to head back out the front doors of the gym.
I wave at Chad through the glass and point to my phone. He knows what that means. He salutes me in understanding.
“No. No ambulance.”
“If you’re worried about the money—”
“No ambulance,” she says, louder and more insistent this time.
I blow out a frustrated breath. “Where are you? I’ll come get you.”
“I . . . you can’t.”
“Elizabeth, you need to get to a hospital.” I hear her crying now. She’s scared. Maybe I’m scaring her. “Listen, maybe the bleeding will stop once you get there, just like before. But for your sake and the baby’s, you need to let someone examine you. Please.”
“But I haven’t even paid my bill from last time.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I say. “They still have to see you.”
“Are you there? At the hospital?”
“No. I’m on my way. I can be there in thirty minutes. Give me your address and I’ll pick you up along the way.” I hail a cab, wondering if it would be faster to walk considering it’s rush hour. But I’m hoping she’ll change her mind and let me swing by and get her.
“I’m only a few blocks from the hospital. I can walk.”
“You shouldn’t be walking, Elizabeth.”
“I’ll see you there, Dr. Stone.”
The line goes dead. I try to call her back but she doesn’t answer.