6/29/2007

Note: I wrote this in creative writing camp. I really would appreciate any reviews I get. And please point out any grammar or spelling issues that you see. Unfortunately, unless I reread it a million times, I can’t catch all of them. I’m sure I’ll edit this more in the future but I need to get some distance from it before I do. Now on to the story.

-- -- --

“Guilty Feelings”

“Why are you crying?” Michael didn’t understand; he thought the case was sad too but the patient had lived through his wreck, so why should she cry for the man? Emilie just shook her head as yet another tear slid down her cheek and said nothing while Michael tried to keep from asking the question again. They exited the emergency room together but to him it felt like she was on an entirely different planet.

He couldn’t think of anything safe to discuss so the hall was silent as they walked to the bi-gender bathroom. He briefly glanced at her face and thought she looked as if she wanted to say something but just couldn’t force it out. Emilie had only been working with him in the emergency room for a few weeks but Michael already felt a connection to her and it hurt him to see her so broken up.

When he came out of the stall, Emilie was striking a match to light the cigarette in her hand. Michael was shocked because he’d never seen Emilie disobey hospital policy in the short time he’d know her and also hadn’t known that she smoked. He quickly told her to put out her cigarette and she reluctantly threw it in the garbage can beside her.

Silence. Then abruptly, she said, “I’m sorry, I know I’m a wreck, it’s just that…” She sighed and then continued, “My dad died when I was fifteen and that couple in there just really reminded me of my mom hovering over him in the emergency room.”

He didn’t really know how to respond because it was so unexpected so Michael just mouthed “oh”. An acrid smell drifted to him and he frowned. “Is something burning?”

Emilie looked around and her eyes widened when she looked at the trashcan under the sink. Michael followed her stare and saw with surprise that the entire trash bin was being licked away by bright orange flames. The smoke detector must have been working because the entire bathroom erupted in a shrill siren. The sprinklers on the ceiling clicked audibly and then both Michael and Emilie were getting soaked.

Running feet could be heard coming towards the bathroom and Michael groaned then pointing from Emilie to the door, said, “You deal with this, I have to go change into a dry uniform and then get back to the emergency room. I’ll take you out to breakfast when we both get off and we’ll talk some more.”

Inevitably, however, some people finish work early, and when Michael got off, the nurse at the desk said that Emilie had gone home early. He wondered vaguely if Emilie was avoiding him but dismissed the thought because if he were going through that, he’d want someone to help him. He sighed and asked “Okay, could you give me her address or phone number?”

She looked regretful when she said, “I’m sorry but no, I’m not allowed to give that information out, even to hospital employees.”

Michael wrote down something on a sheet of paper and handed it to the woman, “That’s okay but if she calls or comes in, please give her this number and tell her to call me.”

He waved goodbye to the nurse and left the hospital intending to get some badly needed sleep before my next shift. However, when he arrived at his flat, Michael discovered that his mind was clouded by thoughts of Emilie, despite how tired he was and kept checking his phone to see if he had somehow missed her call. Michael eventually drifted off into a restless sleep, filled with strange dreams of chasing a crying Emilie.

Michael went in the next day expecting to see Emilie, who still hadn’t called him, but he surprised to learn that she had called in saying she was sick. She hadn’t seemed sick the day before and he wondered again if she was evading him but Michael could see no reason why she would do so, so he asked the receptionist if she’d given Emilie his number. She replied that she had asked Emilie to give him a phone call him when she had called the desk earlier.

-- -- --

Emilie was curled up in her bed, thinking of how much an idiot she was. There was no way she could go into work after she had let that much out to Michael. She didn’t want to lose her job but to lose any more of her heart would make it even worse in the end. She’d never told anyone what she’d told him yesterday. And now she was suffering the consequences of letting her guard slip. She had feelings for him and now she had no chance of a relationship with him because she had let him in when she should have kept him at a safe distance. Now he probably knew what she’d done, that everything was her fault and he’d her for it. He’d her because she’d deceived him but even more, he’d her because of her past and who she was. The night passed slowly, filled with regret.

The next afternoon, Emilie was on the schedule to go into work again, and again she called in to say she was sick but the lady at the desk was not happy. “Listen Emilie, I don’t know what is going on with you and Dr. Truman but if you call in again, you will probably lose your job.”

Emilie sighed, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

The receptionist said, “Okay, but just so you know, Dr. Truman isn’t on the schedule for tonight.”

Emilie was relieved; she really did enjoy her job and didn’t want to lose it. “Well, I guess I could come in if you really need me.

She sounded pleased. “Good, I’ll see you tonight Emilie.”

-- -- --

Dr. Michael Truman finished yet another lap around the track course in his gym. This fascination and joy for running was left over from his high school and college days. He was once the best runner in his team but now he used it to keep in shape and relieve stress. This particular trip to the gym was mainly inspired by his annoyance with Emilie Rosenberg. He was midway into his next lap when his beeper suddenly went off. He stopped and looked at it and noticed that it was the hospital’s number. He went over to his gym bag and pulled his cell phone out, dialing the hospital’s main desk.

He was still panting slightly when he said, “Hello, this is Dr. Michael Truman.”

Michael could practically hear the receptionist smile. “Oh yes, I just paged you.”

“Yes, that’s why I was calling. Did you need something?”

“We’re short staffed tonight and it would be really great if you could come in to help pick up the slack for us. We’re prepared to double your salary for tonight if you’re willing to come in.”

Michael smiled. “That sounds great, would it be okay if I came in at eight thirty?”

“That would be good. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.”

When Michael hung up, he was still smiling. For some reason he loved working, it helped to keep him busy and away from becoming bored. He grabbed his bag and walked the few blocks to his flat where he took a shower and dressed for work.

Michael walked into the building and smiled at the receptionist then walked to the emergency room where he alerted the head nurse that he was there. He was immediately assigned a patient whom he took into room number three. She was an elderly lady who had fallen down her back porch steps and broken her wrist. Michael set her wrist and put a cast on it. “Luckily it was a clean break and all you broke but considering your age, it will take a long time to heal; at least, compared to how long it would have taken just ten years ago. Of course, there are always exceptions because no everyone heals at the same rate. Let’s hope you are one.” He smiled at her. “I’ll need to check on how it’s healing soon so on your way out, speak to Margaret at the desk and she’ll help arrange an appointment.”

He handled a lot of patients over the next few hours and it wasn’t until eleven fifteen that he realized he was starving. Michael informed the nurse in charge that he was taking his “lunch break” and headed to the cafeteria. He ordered a sandwich and a grilled chicken salad then looked across the cafeteria, searching for someone to sit with. He was pleased when his eyes caught sight of Emilie sitting at a table with food, a newspaper in her hand. He was relieved to see that she hadn’t been avoiding him after all, she really must have been sick. Grinning, Michael walked over to her and took the seat next to her. She looked up at him with a confused look and then returned her attention to the newspaper article.

Michael tried to ignore the look she’d given him and said cheerfully as possible, “So I take it you’re feeling better?”

Emilie gave him a blank look.

He started growing nervous but continued anyway, “You called in sick right?”

A look of comprehension came on her face and she nodded, saying shortly, “Yes.”

Michael tried not to be intimidated and bravely fought on. “It’s good to have you back here with us.

She nodded her thanks then stood up, her plate still mostly full. “I have to go.” She threw her food away and disappeared, leaving Michael with the feeling that somewhere along the road, he had done something wrong.

He finished his food with forty-five minutes left of his break and decided to go take a short nap in the employee’s lounge. He was pushing the door to the room open when he heard a kind of gasping noise that pained his heart because he knew what it was, after all he had heard it just a few nights ago. He walked farther into the room to where the noise was coming from and saw just what he had expected to see.

Emilie was huddled in the corner, hugging her knees to her chest, crying. Michael was instantly saddened because even though he had known it was her, he had hoped it wasn’t. He grabbed a hold of her sides and pulled her up to his chest, letting her cry his tears on to his shoulder, patting her back, murmuring words of sympathy. When her crying had slowed some, he asked the dreaded question. “Why are you crying again? Is it still because of your dad?”

She cried harder and mumbled something that he couldn’t understand so Michael asked her to repeat it. This time he heard it more clearly. “I didn’t mean to kill him.”

Michael’s eyebrows puckered and he wondered aloud, “Kill who?”

Emilie gave him a look that clearly said she questioned his sanity, “My dad of course. That’s why you were torturing me in the cafeteria, right? Because I killed my dad?”

He shook my head. “No, that’s not why. I never considered that you killed your father, why would you even think that?”

Her voice shook when she replied, “But I did kill him. I didn’t mean to but it’s my fault he died. If I hadn’t been arguing with him in the car, he would have been paying attention; he would have seen that stoplight. You believe me don’t you? You believe that I didn’t mean to kill him, right? My mom didn’t but you do.”

Michael couldn’t believe my ears. “Your mom said that it was your fault?”

Emilie’s eyes refilled with tears but she nodded her head anyway. He felt disgust rise up in his throat and tried not to let it show on his face but it did no good, she saw it anyway.

Her knees buckled and she began rocking back and forth, talking to herself. “I didn’t do it, I didn’t kill him. But he doesn’t believe me. It’s my fault. I didn’t mean to kill him, I loved him. And she doesn’t believe me either. Oh God, I didn’t mean to kill him.”

Michael’s heart felt like it was breaking because it couldn’t possibly hold all of the compassion he felt for her. He knelt down in front of her and wrapped my arms around, saying, “Emilie, I know you didn’t kill your dad, I was only mad at your mother for making you believe that lie. It’s horrible but right now, my biggest wish is that I could hit her for doing this to you.”

She smiled weakly as if she didn’t trust what he was saying. “You believe me?” Michael nodded and smiled back in response.

“I believe that you didn’t kill him but I know you don’t believe that so I’m going to recommend you to a good friend of mine who’s a therapist - you really should talk to him - and I’ll help you all that I can”

She smiled more brightly this time. “You’re going to help me.”

I hugged her and said, “Yes, Emilie, I am going to help you.”