Page 14 of Phoenix

The bathroom door squeaks open and Trina pokes her head inside. “Nora?”

I wipe my face off and toss the paper towel away. “Yeah?” I sniffle and straighten my scrub top.

“Gabe called me. He asked me to come up because you were sick in the bathroom. Are you all right?” She walks in and leans against the sink, arms over her chest.

I look over into her eyes and tears prickle mine. “Brendon lost his arm.”

“Brendon? Nora, honey. You know we have to keep somewhat of an emotional distance and...”

“I know!” I cut off her off, tears now flowing freely. “Don’t you think I know that? But he’s so little, and he was crying and in pain—I just—I connected with him.”

“It’s not wrong, but when it’s getting to you this much, maybe it’s time to get some distance and, honey, I know this was different for you with the fire and all.” She looks my way and all I see is pity in her eyes. “Maybe you need to take a break; decide if this is something you really want to do anymore.”

Trina isn’t stupid. She knows the revolving door of patients bothers me more than I ever thought it would. They come in, leave, and I never know if they are all right or not. The lack of personal connection is something I struggle with every day.

I instantly rattle off my memorized, automatic response. “No, I love my job and—”

“Don’t lie to me, girl. I know the truth. I’ve seen it in your eyes for years. This isn’t some moral obligation you have to your parents. You don’t have to do this just because it’s what your mama did...and you don’t have to do this because they died.”

Her bluntness is hard to hear, but needed. She’s right. I do this because it’s what my mother wanted for me. She wanted me to go into emergency medicine and save lives the way she did.

But that’s not what I wanted for my life.

I want to help people, yes, but not this way. I want to be allowed to form connections with patients. I don’t want to only see them in passing on what could be the worst day of their lives.

“I don’t want to disappoint them,” I say through a wave of tears.

“You couldn’t. Never.”

“You’re like the mother I needed when I lost mine, Trina. I hope you know that.”

“Don’t make me all emotional now. Wouldn’t want to cry these lashes off. At my age, you gotta fake it where you can.” She nudges me playfully.

“I love you,” I tell her as I lean my head on her shoulder. “Thank you for always watching out for me and being honest.”

“I love you too, and as for the honesty, well, I’m black...I couldn’t shut it off if I tried.”

And for the first time today, I laugh.

I don’t go home after my shift. My apartment isn’t what I need right now.

Ever since my parents died, I’ve found peace in water. Peace in the thing that could have saved them from the fire. That’s what I’m craving right now. That’s what I need right now.

I pull into the parking lot of a hotel downtown and climb out of my car. It’s late, the middle of the night, so I know, without a doubt, the indoor pool will be empty.

I walk through the lobby and the security guard approaches me.

“Nora Nora Bo Bora,” he says with his scruffy voice.

“Hi, Carson.”

Carson has been working at this hotel for as long as I can remember. It was the only pool I could sneak into when I was growing up after my parents passed.

“Needing the pool?” he asks. He knows the water is my therapy. He always lets me in anytime I need it. No questions asked.

“Yeah.” I nod.

“Are you all right?” He’s an older man, in his sixties, with white hair and kind eyes that have wrinkles around the edges from years of experience.

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