Kissing My Dad's Friend

“You heard the man,” I say, with a brief smile for Russ.

He flashes me a broad one, not seeming to care if my father notices it, or the way his gaze briefly sweeps over me, before Russ stands aside and gestures for me to pass.

My shoulders tense. I almost expect my father to follow me again. But I stride past, on my way to my next room, and Russ joins me. By the time we emerge again from checking up on that patient, a few minutes later, the hallway is empty, and my father is nowhere to be seen.

11

We make it through the worst of the night. I wind up staying overtime, as do most of the other staff members. I hadn’t noticed before now how isolating it felt to have most of my nursing staff against me, until they weren’t anymore. Now I trade smiles with Heather, a joke here and there with Lionel. A few people bring me coffees throughout the night, and wave me off when I offer to pay them.

“I just never thought I’d live to see the day someone stood up to John Owens like that,” cackled Magda, one of the older nurses on staff, who insisted on buying me an entire donut from the caf. “Made my year, I can tell you.”

But the brief respite Russ and I got from my father doesn’t last for long. A few hours later, as the worst of the emergency rush starts to wind down, a page goes off. Not just a local one, but one throughout the entire hospital. “Margaret Owens. Russell Marks. Report to the director’s office immediately.”

My stomach sinks all the way through my feet and into the floor. Here it comes. The fallout of our decision.

But as nervous as I am to face the music, I don’t regret anything. We made the right decision. No matter what happens now, I’m proud of the work we did here tonight. We helped people, we saved lives. We’re making a difference.

I meet Russ in the stairwell up toward the floor where my father works. He reaches out to catch my hand and squeezes it gently, just once. I squeeze back, and let go before we reach the exit doors.

At Dad’s office, I let Russ knock. I’m too busy wrapping my arms around my midsection, trying not to freak out. I have very rarely ever disobeyed my father in my life. The few times I have dared to stand out in my memory as some of the worst days of my life. I just hope tonight isn’t going to be another of them. I’m so wired on caffeine and adrenaline, shaky from hours upon hours of overtime work, that all I can handle right now is to faceplant headfirst into bed.

You can do this, I tell myself, as Dad calls for us to come in. You can handle him.

I’m surprised, actually, that Dad is still here. Normally by this hour on a weeknight, no matter what was going on in the hospital, emergency or no, he’d already be headed home. I guess he made a special exception so he could be here to murder us when we got off instead.

The office is dark, the only light a desk lamp and the glow of my father’s computer. He’s sitting at his desk, ramrod straight, his hands folded on top of the desktop. He looks calm. Bad sign. The worst blowups I’ve ever had with my father have always come when he’s calm.

“Please, shut the door behind you,” he says.

Russ obeys. As for me, I stride over to the nearest chair and practically collapse into it. I know I should probably stay standing, to try and intimidate him or whatnot. But I can barely keep myself upright for another second. I’m exhausted, physically and mentally. Whatever’s coming now, I just want to get it over with.

Russ sinks into the chair beside mine. As for him, despite the bags under his eyes and the tired lines on his face, he looks every bit as stern and unyielding as my father. “You paged us, John?”

“I did.” My father looks from Russ to me, slowly. “You realize I could fire you for what you did earlier, Maggie? Ignoring a direct order from me.”

My mouth goes dry. My fists curl atop my knees. But I keep my chin firm, and nod slowly. “I realize that.”

“And Russ.” His gaze shifts back to his friend’s. “I could say the same for you. Trying to countermand my orders? What were you thinking?”

“Don’t blame him for trying to help me,” I interject. “It’s my fault. I’m the one who ignored your orders.”

“Maggie, it’s fine,” Russ murmurs beside me, but I shake my head.

“No. You shouldn’t have to risk your job for me. I can handle this on my own.” I raise my chin and stare back at my father. “You’re the one who was wrong tonight, Dad. If you want to fire me for having the guts to tell you that to your face, fine, do it. But don’t believe for one second it makes you right somehow.”