One Year Ago
“Oh, my goodness, Regan, you need to see the new Head of Paediatrics. Lord, he is like Adonis on steroids.” Betty fans her chubby cheek, blushes, and smooths her salt and pepper hair back into its tight bun. Her eyes widen with her knowing look of excitement. I shuffle the papers I need to sort on my desk and tip my head to the side with confusion.
“Dr Wimpole? Are you kidding? He looks like a hundred years of in-breeding, no chin, enormous forehead, and he is fooling no one with the comb-over. Betty, he is bald as a coot under those mousy brown strands. He’s a nice guy and a great doctor; however, a looker he is not.”
“No, didn’t you hear? They withdrew the offer to Dr Wimpole. Apparently the board wanted this other guy the whole time. They never thought he’d accept.”
“Why wouldn’t he accept?” I bristle with the notion anyone would turn down my hospital. I love this place. It’s more than my job; it’s my family, and, like any proud momma, I am ready to defend it with open claws and a fierce tongue.
“Nothing against the hospital, I’m sure, it’s just he’s supposed to be the tip top, a high flyer or something, and he’s coming from abroad,” she says, elongating her words with awe. I roll my eyes. Hotshot doctors, in my experience, have overinflated egos, god complexes and, even on a bad day, would give Narcissus a run for his money. Betty shrugs and continues absently to wipe the same part of the reception desk where I am standing. “Maybe he has golden balls. Anyway, he did accept, and if I was twenty years younger…mmm-mmm.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Oh, I know everything. There have to be some perks to being a housekeeper. We go unnoticed, and we hear every tiny bit of gossip.” She leans closer, her hand providing a screen even if her voice is still loud enough to wake the dead.
“That’s not exactly gossip, Betty. This is supposed to be my ward; you’d think someone would’ve dropped me a memo.” I shake my head. I may not go unnoticed, but it seems I am still the last to know.
“They did, it’s in your tray.” She points to the stack of papers on my desk.
“Dusting?” I arch my brow.
“I wasn’t prying, Regan. It’s right on the top.” Her eyes fall on the memo, and I reach to pick the sheet of paper from the top of the pile. She continues to talk a conspiratorial tone that makes me smile. “Anyway, mark my words, this one might be just good enough to turn your head. It’s about time you had a little fun.”
“Thank you, Betty, but the last thing I need is… Oh, no!” I scan the information, and my playful reply dies in my throat as recognition drains the colour from my face.
“Girl, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you all right?”
“No…yes…I mean I don’t know. But ghost is about right,” I mumble, feeling prickles tingle the length of my spine with a rush of memories. I spin when I hear my name.
“Nurse Jones.” The head of HR gives a tight smile that fails to crack her chalky, bright red lipstick.
I force myself to speak. “Cathy, good morning.” The air inside me feels suddenly too heavy to exhale. A lead weight seems to be crushing my chest, and I find I am gripping the reception desk like a vise to anchor myself upright. It’s him.
“Good morning. Ah, you got the memo. That will save some time.” Cathy motions to the paper that is now a crumpled in my fist. For someone in human resources, she is remarkably oblivious to my strange reaction. “This is Dr Lincoln Prescott. We’re very lucky to have him join our team.” She beams and stands to the back, making way for the manly mountain beside her. I blink several times, my eyes adjusting as if the sun has just risen before me. His tall, broad frame is unchanged, dirty blond hair falls over the vacant eyes of the most beautiful man I ever loved, the only man I ever loved. Attached to the stiff arm he holds out before him is the invisible blade I can feel slice me open when he looks right through me.
“Nurse Jones. I look forward to working with you.” He shakes my hand, and I jolt at the spark of skin touching skin. I look for acknowledgement that he felt it. The spark was real, right? Nothing.
“Dr Prescott.” My mouth dries, and I struggle to swallow the lump that’s choking me up. Don’t fucking cry, Regan. What the hell!
“Right, good.” Cathy’s interruption pulls me back, and the tingle of tears that momentarily threatened vanishes. “I’m sure Nurse Jones will introduce you to her team later, Dr Prescott. For now, though, the board has arranged a special brunch, which has been set up in the boardroom, if you’d like to accompany me.” She waves her hand in the direction of the ward exit, and they both stride off without a backward glance. It takes a moment to regain my composure, but even then, I have very little to contribute to the renewed conversation with Betty.
“Mmm, mighty fine, wouldn’t you say?”
“Wow,” is all I can manage.
“See, I wasn’t lying, was I? Shame he’s gay.” Betty muses with an apologetic tilt of her head.
“He’s what? What makes you think he’s gay?”
“Oh, just a feeling, I mean he looked right through you, and you, my dear, are a stunning beauty.” Betty beams at me, her insightful comment striking me hard. I fix an expression of passive indifference, hiding the turmoil of uncertainty and hurt raging like a storm inside me.
“Betty, I look like I haven’t slept in three years, and I have baby vomit in my hair.” I brush off the entire interaction as best I can and am grateful when Betty laughs, gathers her cleaning trolley, and walks away, waving me off as she disappears down the corridor.
“You do make me chuckle,” she calls back.
“Yeah, I’m a joke all right.”
“Nurse Jones,” Joel steps into the staff locker room. My shift is over, and I’m just getting my coat. He returned to my ward after his brunch, and only ten minutes into introducing him to my team, I had to stop myself and check my memory for glitches. I questioned whether I even knew him at all. He’s professional, yes, but with no eye contact, no humour, and absolutely no nostalgic recognition. It’s like working alongside a robot, an uncommonly hot robot with the emotional range of a vending machine. No, at least a vending machine has the capacity to bring joy. My best friend Harper frequently referred to Joel as cold, he never was, not with me, not until today.
“Dr Prescott.” I respond flatly.
“Could I have a word in private?”
“Sure,” I grab my bag and sling it across my body. I brush past him, and when I can hear that he isn’t following me, I tilt my head to indicate the fire escape. The heavy door shuts behind him, and the words leave my mouth before I have the good sense to shut my lips.
“You look good, Joel.”
“This isn’t a reunion, Regan. I just wanted to clear the air,” he clips, and I reel; his words feel like an icy slap across my face.
“Right, of course. And for the record, I wasn’t trying for a reunion. You made your feelings perfectly clear when you left.” My spine straightens as righteous indignation fights with tears and the fury swirling like a tornado in my veins. My head spins with the absence of four long years, regret, and a million unheard rants.
“Riiight, I left.” He purses his lips, holding back a tight smirk, and he folds his arms. His tone couldn’t be any more condescending. His recollection is at odds with mine, but I let him make his little speech. “You barely spoke two words on the way back from the cabin and then disappeared off the face of the earth, and I left.”
“You made yourself quite clear regarding how you felt about me, Joel.” His eyes darken, and I see the first flash of torment that makes my tummy tighten. I made mistakes, and I know I did, but I only left because I had no choice. He did, and he didn’t choose me.
“Did I? Did I really, Regan? Because if that was the case, just tell me how the fuck you could do what you did?” He steps forward and checks himself, keeping a distance that seems to cause him physical pain.
“What? What I did?” Shock mingles with my disbelief. Just where does he get off…
“Yes, Regan. You ripped my fucking heart out when you cut me off.” He glares at me, and I feel the unfamiliar chill race the length of my spine, so very cold.
“What heart, Joel?” I hold his gaze. His hazel eyes narrow, and the muscles clamping his jaw shut, jump with rage. He sniffs a humourless laugh before speaking in an equally derisive tone.
“You think I don’t have a heart because of three fucking words, three words that, ninety percent of the time, mean nothing when people say them.”
“It wasn’t that, and you know it.” I fight back the tears. He is not going to make me cry; I’ve cried enough.
“No, no, I don’t know it, Regan, because you left.” His lips curl with the vitriol in his tone, and then, all of a sudden, it’s gone. Every ounce of fury vanishes from his features, and a veil of indifference settles like a heavy cloak. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. You don’t matter.”
“Yes, I did get that loud and clear, thank you.”
“Oh, no, thank you, because, thanks to you, I am never doing that again, not with anyone.”
“Well, I’m struggling to find one thing to thank you for.”
“You can thank me that, as far as working together, we never happened.” He pulls the fire door open and, as if he can’t help the ingrained manners, holds it wide for me. I step through, and before I walk away, I turn back.
“Actually, I am thankful for that. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it; I know I won’t.” He strides off in the opposite direction. I don’t know why, but I can’t draw my eyes away even when he grabs the hands of two nurses that are waiting expectantly by the main exit.
That’s that, then.