As I walk back down the hall toward the lounge, I grab a cardboard box from a trash cart and go to clean out my locker. I toss things in, one by one, until it’s empty. Then I turn to leave the room, my box of belongings hitched under my arm.
Suddenly, the door bursts open, and a loud voice booms out, “That bitch better not think she can just stay here and that the rest of us will just accept what she did to you!” My friend and fellow nurse Camille rushes at me and grabs me in an embrace I can barely accept. She hugs me tightly, and then stands back so she can look into my face, her hands on my upper arms as she holds me tight. “Are you okay?”
“Did you know?” I ask. I watch her face, because I feel like I’ll know if she’s lying.
She shakes her head. “If I had known, I would have told you, right after I let the air out of her tires.” Her face tenses. “But a lot of people did know,” she says quietly. “I only found out today.”
“She’s pregnant,” I say blandly, but I blink back tears that are threatening to fall.
“I heard,” she spits out. “That backstabbing bitch. If she wasn’t pregnant, I’d kick her right in the cooch.” She mimes a karate kick, her shoe flying through air. “Whoops,” she says as she goes and retrieves it. She looks toward my box. “Wait… What are you doing?” She looks from the box to my empty locker and back. “Why do you have your things?” She points toward the locker. “Put your things back. Don’t you dare let her run you off!”
“They terminated my contract.”
She jerks her thumb toward the reception area down the hall. “They terminated your contract because that backstabbing acquaintance of yours fucked your husband?” She shudders dramatically. “I can’t figure out why either of you wanted to ever fuck Charles, but to each his own.”
“They said they wanted to avoid problems,” I explain.
“Then they should have fired her lying, cheating ass,” she rails on.
I shake my head. “It’s okay, really. I can find another job.”
She huffs. “I’ll go give them a piece of my mind.”
One good thing about Camille is that she’s loyal. One bad thing about Camille is that she’s loyal. To a fault. I catch her arm as she spins to leave, presumably to go give the boss a piece of her mind. “Don’t,” I say. “Don’t mess anything up for yourself.” I force myself to smile. “I’m going to be okay. This is all going to work out.” I don’t know if I’m trying to convince her or to convince myself. Either way, I’m failing, because I’m not at all sure everything is going to work out.
“So what are you going to do?” She stares at me.
I have no idea what I’m going to do. “I’ll start looking for a job. No big deal.”
“You know most of the hospitals in this area have a hiring freeze right now.” Which is why I have been a temporary, floating nurse for so long.
“It’s all going to be okay,” I say again, but I have a feeling deep inside that it’s not. “It’ll all work out. I don’t want to stay where I’m not wanted.”
“I want you,” she says, and her eyes fill up with tears.
I point my finger at her as mine fill up too. “If you make me cry, I’m going to kill you.”
She waves her hand in front of her face. “Sorry! Whew!” She breathes out. “That was close.” She continues to wave air into her face until she pulls herself together. “For what it’s worth, you’re a better nurse than she is.”
“That’s not hard to be,” I toss back snidely. Sandra is lazy and thinks she’s entitled. But she’s also well-liked by most of the nurses, who overlook her flaws because she ingratiates herself to them in other ways, like covering their shifts and bringing surprise lunches on hard days. “I thought we were friends.” I’d taken Sandra home with me for a backyard brunch, and after that initial bonding, we’d spent many evenings in large groups sitting around the backyard fire pit. “I guess we weren’t as close as I thought.”
The door to the lounge opens and I find two security guards standing there. Mrs. House sent security guards? “Hi, John,” I say. “Michael.” I recognize them both from the front desk and I know them by name. “Are you here for me?”
“I’m afraid so,” Michael says. He winks at me. “We’re going to give you the royal treatment and walk with you all the way to your car.”
“So much for letting the air out of her tires,” Camille murmurs with an exaggerated frown.
Michael cups a hand around his mouth and tells Camille as an aside, “You can do that later, when it’ll be more of a surprise. If you did it now, it would be expected. Catch her when she’s let her guard down.”
Even I wouldn’t strand a pregnant woman in the parking garage. Even if she did pretend to be my good friend while she fucked my husband. Even if I hated her guts.
Well, I might, but I’d be damn sure no one knew I did it. I shift the box higher under my arm and try to hold my hands out like I’m surrendering to the cops. “You ready to give me the royal treatment? I’m looking forward to that walk.”
Michael inclines his head toward the door, so I step around him and out into the hallway. They both follow me all the way down the hall.
“I’ll call you later!” Camille says from behind us. I give her a thumbs-up without even looking back.
The reception desk goes eerily quiet as I walk by. I look directly into Sandra’s eyes. She startles and takes a step back. “Congratulations on the baby,” I say. I smile at her, and I try to make it as nice as I can. “I know you’ve always wanted to be a mother.”
She nods and makes a tight swallow. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I turn to walk away. But at the last moment, I turn back. “One question for you, though,” I say. “Why him?” I stare at her, and she straightens her spine. I’m actually quite impressed by that.
“You know that your marriage has been failing for a long time.”
I nod at her. “So that’s the reason?”
“He was so unhappy. You had to have known that.” She gives me a pitying look, her eyes soft.
Oh, I knew it. “Well, I’m glad you solved that for him.” I tap the desk in front of her with the flat of my palm. “Best of luck to you.”
“Thank you,” she says quietly. Her gaze darts from one person around us to another, like she’s looking for backup. I turn to walk away.
But then I turn back.
“Fuck,” I hear Michael whisper on a sigh.
“When did it start?” I ask Sandra.
“You’ll have to talk to Charles about that,” she says, and then she bites her lips together. I stare at her long enough that she adds, “You guys haven’t even had sex in months!” One of the other nurses lets out a startled gasp but covers it with a cough.
I smile. “Is that what he told you?”
She squares her shoulders even more. “Yes.”
I lean close to her and whisper loudly, “We had sex yesterday. In the morning. And the night before. I remember because I was on top for the nighttime encounter.” I crook my finger and scratch my cheek, pretending to think. “And we did the lazy-dazy side booty kind of sex the next morning. You know, when you want it, but you don’t want to put a lot of work into it. That kind of sex.”