The goofy bus driver asks if I will be riding Saturday. I say no. “In that case, I guess I’ll say goodbye now,” he says. I ask if he’s fleeing the country. “From now on I’ll be driving the 30 to Estacada. And the 31. And the 9 and the 13 a bit. Sometimes the 71.”
I laugh and say that sounds like a lot. He says it’s not, and suddenly pulls over. “I missed a stop,” he says, and gives a free pass to the elderly man who shuffles across the street to get on.
When I get off at the hospital, I thank him for all the rides and he says, “I hope whoever’s on here next takes good care of you.”
The metal detector in the front lobby is stanchioned off again, and I think about something Aaron said last week about the side entrances still being open. “Wait, so they’re making us check our pen knives when anyone can just walk in through a different door with a machine gun?” I had asked.
“It’s pretty ridiculous,” he said. He said they were still planning on closing the other doors at some point.
“They said that back in April,” I said.
KC is wearing a black t-shirt over a black long-sleeved shirt with black jeans. “Nice scrubs,” I say. “Casual Monday?”
She grabs the saw and makes short work of the cast. Vicki sits at the computer and asks why she isn’t using the new saw. "It scares me a little," she says.
She unwraps the undercast and says there’s only a small amount of drainage. Vicki asks if I'm still on the Bactrin. I say that I’ve been done with it for weeks. “It says here you’re still on it,” she says.
Dr. Taggert enters and looks at my foot. “Huh. You can’t really see much with that screen on it, can you?” she says. “You think he’ll be okay to wait a week?” Vicky says I should be fine.
“Yes!” I say, pumping my fist.
“Do you really think you can handle being away from us that long?” asks Dr. Taggert. She starts singing. “You don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone!” KC joins in and they both belt out, “They paved paradise and put up a parking lot!”
KC asks what I’m doing for Thanksgiving. I tell her I have to work, and that afterwards I’m going to a friend’s. I ask her if she’s seeing her mother.
“My mother lives in Maryland. Besides, we’re not speaking at the moment,” she says. “The day after the election she sent a photo of her wearing her Maga hat with a big shit-eating grin. She also sent me an article about how yoga opens your body up to the devil.” She says she’s going to cook herself a little turkey in her hot pot. “And turnips,” she says.
Vicki asks if her friend from last year is coming over. “"Nope, this year it’s just me and the kitty," she says. She turns to me. "Usually my friend Cindy brings over a Tofurkey and I end up just having wine for dinner."
Vicki says her family from down South will be in town. “There's gonna be 22 of us. No one's allowed to talk politics.”
While Vicki puts on the new undercast, KC says she finished her lecture series on Mesopotamia. “I looked but I couldn’t find anything on Gilgamesh,” she says. I tell her about the book about the Crusades I’m reading and this leads to her talking about the battle of Hastings and the Norman Conquest.
Shelley calls for KC and she says, “I forgot. I’m busy talking history with Seann.” She dashes off and Taggert dances in wearing her paper gown, even more animated than usual. She starts singing again. I ask her if she’s excited because of the holiday. “I’m excited to do this cast!” she yells.
While she wraps my leg she asks what my plans are. “You’re working?” she shrieks. “But the museum’s not open, right?” I say no. “Do you have those lasers to stop thieves like in the movies?” she asks. I tell her yes, and that we’re expecting a visit by guys in black outfits and grappling hooks.
“Make this cast extra strong because I will be using it to kick some ass,” I say.
She laughs. “It’s probably like us with hospital shows. They get everything wrong!” I ask if any of those shows are accurate. “Weirdly enough, Scrubs,” she says. “Even though it’s silly, they get a lot of the medical stuff right. There isn’t as much sex here though, at least not that I know about.”
“Third floor,” pipes in Sjon.
“What, really?” asks Taggert. “What’s on the third floor? The OR?”
“Yep,” he says.
“And babies,” says Vicki.
“Ew, that’s right. I would think babies would be a deterrent,” says Taggert.
“Brahm’s Lullaby really puts me in the mood,” I say.
“Lots of RNs having sex with security guards,” says Sjon.
“I guess that explains why all the guys I work with want to work here,” I say.
Everyone is talking when I leave so they don’t hear me wish them a happy Thanksgiving. KC is nowhere to be seen. I picture her at home with her turkey and her turnips and her wine, curled up on the couch in her yoga pants, watching a show about the Mongols or Mayans or maybe the Macedonians. The cat in her lap pricks up her ears when the neighborhood stray meows through the glass, desperate to be let in.
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