Finally Ours (Harborview #2)

34. Carter

34

CARTER

I knock on the door in front of me, take a deep breath, and prepare myself for the academic tongue-lashing I’m about to get. Not because I’ve done anything wrong, but because my supervisor Judith Clarke is a hard ass with high expectations for her students. I sent her the latest draft of my dissertation two days ago and she emailed me this morning telling me that we could meet today to discuss it.

“Come in,” my supervisor calls.

Judith’s office is a familiar sight. It’s stuffed full of lab books and journal articles, stacks of folders and undergraduate textbooks. On the wall are framed photographs of birds and marine life, taken by Judith, along with her diplomas.

I take a seat, and watch as she types away at her computer without looking at me, her face screwed up in concentration.

After a moment she shuts her laptop and gives me her full attention. “I’m knee deep in emails right now,” she tells me. “But I did read your latest draft.”

“And?”

“And it’s nearly there. I’ve left a few comments on it, but nothing major.”

“Really?” Relief washes through me.

“Really,” she says smiling. “There are only a few things we need to talk through. I called you in mostly to talk about your career.”

The relief I was feeling a second ago drains out of me, leaving a knot of anxiety in its place. Because Judith is not going to like hearing that I no longer want that postdoc in Iceland.

“I’m excited about this teaching job,” I tell her.

“Are you?” She lifts one perfectly groomed gray brow on me.

“Fine,” I say. “I’m not. But I need to stay in Maine.”

“And why is that?”

I hesitate for a moment, and then say, “Because there is more to life than pursuing a career in academia.”

“That is true,” she says, nodding at the photo of her children on her desk. “But the postdoc you applied for may come through, yet. They emailed me for a reference last week.”

Fuck. That means I’ll hear from them soon, if they’re checking references.

“Carter,” she says, “academia is tough. It’s not going to be easy to find a job you love, that is here in Maine. It won’t be easy to find one at all, frankly. If you get this postdoc, my sincere advice is that you take it.”

I nod. None of this is news to me. Getting a good job in this field has always been a long shot, and frankly if I get either of the jobs I’ve applied to, I’ll be one of the lucky ones.

“Is there anything else you think I should do?” I ask.

“Not right now. Just focus on how good it feels to be done with your degree. I’ll let you know if I hear of anything else.”

We spend the rest of the meeting talking through some of the things I need to fix before submitting, and I’m relieved all over again when I see how little work I have left to do. I could submit this week if I wanted to, and have my thesis defense next month.

After the meeting, I spend some time in the campus cafe, switching between fiddling with my thesis, obsessively checking my email, and refreshing multiple job websites hoping that something new will pop up.

I also text Angela, just to check in. It’s been six days since she slept over at mine, and she’s been at work every day. She’s explained to me that she normally works four ten hour days and then has three or four days off, and picks up extra shifts when the hospital needs her to. But her boss has been a total dick this week, and has pressured her into working two extra days, and Angela doesn’t like to say no if it means that the ER will be understaffed. And I get that. I’m a chronic over-worker myself and have spent the last six days while she’s been working chained to my laptop. If I’m lucky, I’ll see her tonight when she’s done at the hospital.

After a few hours of working, I pack up my stuff and start the drive home to Harborview. While I drive, I listen to music and try to come up with date night activities for me and Angela. She may have told me she loved me, but I’m not done proving to her that she’s got me for good. And our next date needs to be something romantic and unexpected.

My phone chimes, and because it’s connected to my car, the text gets read out through the speakers.

“Hey Carter, just wanted to let you know that I won’t be able to come over later. I’m really sorry, but I fainted at work and I have to stay here a few more hours.”

I’m thankful that the road is empty because I swear my vision goes white for a moment as I process what she’s just told me—that she fainted, that she's hurt, that she’s still at the hospital.

Angela needs me.

I fucking floor it.

I pull into the parking lot of the hospital a mere twenty minutes later, tires screeching.

Normally, I’m calm in a crisis. I make plans. I consider the options and outcomes with little emotion and without panicking. I’m pretty sure I’d thrive during the apocalypse, and I always carry a first aid kit with me.

But from the moment I hear Angela is hurt to the moment I get to the door of the ER, my heart is pounding and I can’t think straight. I keep thinking of ways I might be able to help her and then tossing them out because I’m not a fucking doctor, and this is a situation where I truly have no idea what I’m doing.

As I walk into the ER, I’m reminded of the fact that Angela is surrounded by doctors. And she knows exactly what to do for herself in a situation like this. She’s the most competent person I know, and I’m sure she’s the best damn nurse in the entire hospital. Hell, in the entire damn state.

I walk up to the desk and wait a few minutes before someone is able to help me, and I use that time to steady myself with a few deep breaths. By the time the receptionist asks me what I need, I feel okay.

“I’m here to see my girlfriend,” I say. “She works here, but she texted me that she fainted so I want to check in on her.”

“What’s her name?” the receptionist asks.

“Angela Burns.”

The nurse who has been standing behind the desk looking intently at a chart gasps and suddenly looks up at me.

“You must be Carter!” she says. “Angela has told me so much about you over the last few days. It’s so sweet that you came! I’m Aline.”

“Is she okay?” I ask, anxiety rushing through me once more.

“She’ll be okay,” Aline says. “One of the doctors is checking her over right now.”

“Can I see her? I know I’m not family but?—”

“You can come back with me, and if Angela says she wants to see you, then you can,” Aline tells me. “Mags, I’m gonna take him back to see Angela, and then I’ll come help you some more,” she tells the receptionist, who simply nods and starts talking to the next person in line. I get the sense that everyone at this hospital is a bit overworked at the moment.

Aline leads me into the ER, and we walk past bed after bed sectioned off with curtains. At the end of the row, she stops.

“Ange, you have a visitor,” she calls out.

“He can come in,” she says.

I push aside the curtain and find her propped up in bed, an IV in her arm. A doctor is sitting on a chair next to her, looking at something on a computer.

“How’d you know it was me?” I ask.

“You’ve got overprotective written all over you, Steel. You keep rations in your backpack, and are always offering me extra layers.” She gives me a wry smile.

“What happened?” I ask, sitting on a chair by her bed.

“I fainted from dehydration,” she says flatly. “And exhaustion. I finished with a patient and started walking over to check on someone else, and I just collapsed.”

The image flashes through my mind and I wince. “Are you alright? You didn’t hit your head or anything?”

“I did,” she tells me. “But not very hard. I feel fine.”

I feel my hands start to shake.

“But I am going to do a neurological exam anyway,” the doctor says, looking up from the computer. She tracks Angela’s eye movements, and then asks her a series of questions about how she’s feeling. I try to pay attention, but the whole time I just think about Angela falling and hitting her head.

“You’re fine,” the doctor tells Angela. “But you do need to rest. One more bag of saline, and then you’re going home, and staying there through tomorrow. I don’t want to see you in this place for at least another three days.”

“Fine by me. But tell that to Tony,” Angela says.

The doctor frowns. “Have you been picking up all these extra shifts because of him?”

Angela nods.

“Well, I’ll let him know you won’t be coming in for a few days,” the doctor says. “I also have to report this to HR, as director of the ER. We can’t have nurses fainting on shifts.”

Angela nods. “I know,” she says. “I’m happy for you to report it.”

“Good,” Dr. Gupta says. “Aline will be in to change the IV bag in a few minutes.”

“Thanks Dr. Gupta.”

The doctor leaves and I scoot my chair closer to Angela’s bed, taking her hand in mine. She looks small and pale in the fluorescent lighting, and I want to wrap her up in my arms and cradle her against my chest—protect her from the whole world.

Despite the fact that Angela said she feels fine, she doesn’t look fine. The expression on her face is one of utter defeat, and she’s not even attempting to hide her emotions like she normally does.

“How are you really doing?” I ask her gently, stroking her hand.

Her face crumples instantly, tears snaking down her cheeks, her usual composure and poise absolutely shattered.

“I’m just so tired,” she says in between sobs. “I never work six shifts in a row. And I’ve been sleeping okay, but last night I got so anxious about making sure I was rested for work, that I tossed and turned all night. When I got to work, I just completely forgot to eat or drink because I was so focused on making sure I did everything correctly and that I made it through the shift, and I just…I just…” She trails off and wipes her face with her sleeve.

“Where is Tony?” I ask.

“Why?”

“So I can punch him in the throat,” I say, completely serious.

Angela laughs at that, and says, “He’s with a patient right now.”

“I hope he gets fired for this,” I say darkly.

“Me too,” Aline says brightly, pushing the curtains aside. “I’m here to change your saline.”

“Thanks Aline,” Angela says. “I’m sorry about this. I know it means you’ll be understaffed for the rest of the day.”

“We’ll be fine. It’s a slow day and you’ve been here nearly a week straight. I’ll pick up the slack.”

Aline quickly changes the bag and leaves us be. Angela closes her eyes and tries to nap a bit while the IV empties. I check my email again, and with shaking hands click on the email titled “Interview request for position 4505.” I skim through it but it’s what I expected—the university wants to interview me for the year-long position I applied for, and it’s next week on Monday.

I click on the email below it, and hold my breath as I do.

“We are pleased to confirm that you have been successful in attaining the position of postdoctoral research assistant on the project…”

I exit out of the email immediately. I don’t need to read the rest of it—especially since I’m not accepting the position.

Still, elation shoots through me at the fact that I got a job.

I close my email and watch Angela nap for a bit. The fact that she’s actually asleep tells me that she’s truly exhausted. She can’t nap easily with her insomnia and has told me before that she hates sleeping in new places.

Outside the curtains, I hear a raised voice saying, “You have to let us see our daughter! It’s the law.”

“Kate, honey, the nurse is taking us to her right now.”

“Faster!”

“Angela never told me her moms were crazy…let me see if she’s free to see you…”

And then the curtain is being pushed open and Donna and Kate appear with Aline in tow.

“Oh my god, Donna, she looks so pale,” Kate whispers.

“I’m totally fine, mom, please don’t worry,” Angela says without opening her eyes, like if she keeps them closed long enough everyone will leave her alone.

“She really is going to be okay,” Aline reassures them. “The doctor already checked her and she just needs to rest.”

“Well that’s good,” Kate says.

“So you believe her, but not me?” Angela asks, arms crossed, staring at her moms.

“Well, you can’t be trusted Angie. Remember that time you sprained your ankle and refused to let us look at it?” Donna says.

“Yeah because I already knew what to do.”

Angela’s tone becomes a bit petulant and I realize that I’m seeing a brand new side of her, one where she’s just a kid and her moms are worried about her more than she’d like. It warms my heart, seeing how close they clearly are.

“What’s Carter doing here?” Kate asks, seeming not to care that I’m sitting right here.

“Oh, um, we’re together,” Angela says, blushing a deep shade of red.

“Well hallelujah for that,” Kate says.

“We’re happy for you,” Donna says, patting Angela on the arm, and looking at me with a smile. “Both of you.”

I wasn’t really worried about having Kate and Donna’s blessing because they’ve always seemed like the type of parents who trust their daughter to know what’s best for her, but it still means a lot to have it.

Aline removes Angela’s IV, and then she’s ready to go home. We all head towards the waiting room, Kate and Donna walking ahead of us. A short, stocky man with dark hair walks out from behind one of the curtains, and stops Angela.

“Angela! I am so sorry about this,” he says.

“Tony, I don’t really want to talk about it,” Angela says. “I’m getting ready to go home.”

“You’re Tony?” I ask, and he nods. I mentally file away his face so I know who to fucking kill next time I see them.

“Angela,” the little worm repeats, “I really am sorry. I didn’t know you were so tired, or I wouldn’t have?—”

“Of course I’m tired! I’ve been here all week,” she says, her voice brittle and high. “I’ve been pulling overtime shifts just to help you out. Did you even ask anyone else to come in, or did you just assume I’d be fine working six fucking shifts this week?”

“There’s no need to use that tone,” Tony huffs, leaning into her as he says it.

She shoots me a glance, and I immediately see how tired, unsure, and stressed out she is. She’s doing a great job putting this fucker in his place, but my girl clearly needs someone in her corner right now.

“That’s enough,” I say, pulling Angela towards me gently, and tucking her against my side. “I’m taking Angela home, now.”

“When will you be able to work again?” Tony demands.

“Ask Dr. Gupta,” Angela fires back, crossing her arms.

I give Tony a death stare, and then I guide Angela out of the ER and into the waiting room, where we find her moms.

“Everything okay?” Kate asks.

“Yes, just Tony being a dick,” Angela says. “But we handled it.”

“I owe him a few throat punches though,” I say, earning a laugh from both her moms.

“Angie, why don’t we drive your car home and then Carter can take you to yours?” Kate offers. “You don’t look in any state to drive.”

“Sure, Mom, thanks.” Angela hands over the keys with no argument, seeming to understand that none of the people present are going to let her drive right now, including me.

“Want to come to my house?” I ask Angela, after her moms leave. “I’ll give you plenty of space to rest, but the thought of leaving you home alone kills me.”

“Staying over with you sounds perfect,” Angela says, leaning in and placing a kiss on my cheek. “But, I don’t think I want space.”