Nightingale

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Meeting

I dried and tamed my mane as quickly as I could, dabbed on a little makeup, and ran for my bedroom to get dressed. I rummaged through the dresser to find my favorite pair of old jeans. They were still presentable but soft and faded. She said mandatory, not come in uniform. I refused to wear scrubs on my day off! I flipped through the blouses in my closet like a magazine. I found the least wrinkled fitted white tee and shimmied into it careful as not to make my hair any wilder than it already was. Damned humidity! A glance in the mirror proved the makeup didn't darken the paleness of my face or lighten the circles under my eyes. I gave the cuff of my jeans a small turn up to keep the already ragged hem from dragging. They don't make jeans the right length for five-three. The red digital numbers of my alarm clock revealed I only had fifteen minutes to be on time. One more glance in the mirror... "Oh hell! What's the use?" I muttered to myself as I shoved my perfectly painted toes into my most comfortable pair of brown leather mules, grabbed my purse and ran for the car.

Great! It was only May and already in the eighties before ten. The churning gray clouds above only added to the suffocating humidity. Another perk of living in the South; when it actually does rain during the summer, it doesn't cool things off, it creates a sauna. You can actually watch the steam rise from the grass and pavement. I jumped behind the wheel of my '65 Mustang and silently thanked myself for ignoring the unspoken rules of owning an antique car by having an updated A/C unit installed. I cranked it up on high and headed toward the hospital.

I cracked my side window as I reached for the pack of Marlboros in the glove box. I kept them there as a deterrent. If I had to walk all the way out to my car to get them, I didn't smoke as much. Yes, I'm a nurse and yes, I smoke. Nasty habit I picked up in college. I laughed to myself remembering the wife of a patient chastising me as she walked past the hospital smoking area on the way to her car. The incident preceded my first toe-to-toe with Janie, the hospital's nurse manager. I sat there minding my own business, smoking before work one morning. I didn't want to smoke in the car because it was cold and raining outside. My heater was on the fritz, so cracking the window was out of the question. I stood under the little gazebo, our designated smoking area, between the hospital and parking garage. She was a nice looking woman in her late sixties, well dressed, hurrying to her car beneath the umbrella matching her shoes. She obviously caught a whiff of my cigarette and her eyes narrowed as she looked me up and down.

"Excuse me, dear. Do you work here?" she asked as she approached the gazebo.

"Yes, ma'am," I answered as I snubbed out my finished butt. "Can I help you with something?"

"Are you a nurse?" she asked as she stepped under the gazebo.

"Yes, ma'am," I answered cautiously. I was always a little leery of the "are you a nurse" questions. People automatically think you can diagnose them.

"Then why, may I ask, are you smoking? You are a health provider for God's sake; you know how hazardous smoking is to your health! Not to mention those of us around you trying to breathe. Do you even know why you smoke?" she rattled on indignantly.

I started to point out the fact she approached my smoke; I didn't force it on her. I thought for a moment I should ignore her and walk out of the gazebo, but she was standing in front of the stairs. I thought I could just tell her to fuck off, my favorite phrase, by the way, but she might consider the suggestion rude. So I smiled politely and replied, "Yes, ma'am, I can tell you exactly why I smoke. They won't let me drink and come to work. Now, if you'll excuse me, I should go on in." She staggered back a step in surprise, mouth agape, as I slid past her down the steps. Childish, yes, but it really pisses me off when people don't mind their own business.