Page 1 of Trustfall

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EMORY

I seepeople on the worst days of their lives. As an ER nurse, it comes with the territory. But I also watch them survive—and that's what I choose to focus on. The survival.

Because, after all, that’s what I’m doing.

Surviving.

Still, there are shifts that are crafted in a special place in Hell, and today happens to be one of them.

My shift starts promptly at six a.m. At six-thirty, the victims of a five-car pileup start coming through on a never-ending conveyor belt. At ten o’clock, a man comes rushing in with a towel pressed to his head, blood pouring out from underneath. At first, I think he’s been shot, but then his wife is escorted in by law enforcement. She has mascara running down her face and glass shards stuck in her hands. It turns out she bashed a crystal vase over her husband’s head after she caught him in bed with their couples’ yoga instructor. Clearly, that didn’t work out for them.

By one, it becomes clear that my lunch with Nate is not going to happen when an entire office of people comes in with food poisoning. I don’t even have time to shoot off a text to him before I’m covered in vomit. I’m sure he’s going to send out a search party when he doesn’t hear from me, but I can’t even think about that right now.

“Hey Emory, can you administer Zofran to the lady in bay eight? I’m knee-deep over here,” my colleague Sandra calls to me as I walk out of the locker room, having just changed my scrubs for the second time in a row.

“Of course,” I reply, heading down the hallway toward the bays.

As I push Zofran into the woman’s IV, she looks up at me with a groan. “I’m such an idiot. I should have known there was a reason that smoked salmon was on sale, but money has been tight lately, and morale has been so low. I thought an office breakfast would help get everyone out of their funk. Turns out it caused more funk.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. I’m sure you meant well,” I say, capping the syringe and placing it in the sharps container.

“Ray is never going to forgive me. This is the last thing we need right now.”

“Your husband?” I question, and she nods. “I’m sure he will understand. You were just trying to help.”

“That's easy for you to say. You didn't see Jake throw up into the new laminator. That thing cost seven hundred bucks.” She gets that look in her eyes again, so I scoot the circular container closer to her as she leans down and empties her stomach into it.

“Try to relax, Mrs. Lemming. The meds will take effect within the next hour, and you should start feeling better. I’ll be back to check on you in a few.”

As I get up to leave, the door bursts open. A frazzled man storms in, his salt-and-pepper hair in disarray. He rushes over to the bedside, his tie, carelessly flung over his shoulder, flapping in the wind behind him.

“Vicky, I got here as fast as I could. Are you okay?” He starts to feel around her, checking if she's hurt anywhere.

“It’s food poisoning, dear. I didn’t get into a car accident.”

“Right.” He shakes his head. Then he looks at me and lowers his voice as if she can’t still hear him. “How bad is it, Doc?”

“Hi, Mr. Lemming. I’m Emory, your wife’s nurse. I just gave her something for the nausea, so the vomiting should start to slow down soon. Once she finishes this course of IV fluids, she will be able to go home. She’ll need plenty of electrolytes and rest for the next few days, but she should be just fine.”

“Oh, thank God.” He blows out a breath of relief.

“Ray, honey, it's my fault,” Vicky blurts out. “I tried to boost morale by hosting breakfast at the office this morning while you were out meeting with investors. The salmon must have been bad. A couple of hours later, people started rushing to the bathroom like their pants were on fire. I'm so sorry.”

“I don’t care about that, Vicky. I’m just glad you’re okay. Let’s focus on getting you better so we can go home.”

“But what if one of our employees sues us or something?”

“We’ve been through worse. We’ll get through it.”

“But the laminator…”

“Fuck the laminator.”

Oh, shit. I didn't see that coming. I guess Ray has a sassy side. I shuffle towards the door to give them some space. “I’ll give you two some privacy,” I say as I open the door to leave.

“Thank you so much,” Vicky calls. “You have been amazing.”

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