Yours Truly, Cammie - Page 2
I sucked in a breath and shook out my shoulders.
“Sure, JoJo.”
She shrieked and leaped over to wrap her slender arms around my neck, thanking me over and over again.
“You’re seriously the best friend that I could ever ask for. Thank you, Cammie!”
I smiled warmly at her, again.
“On one condition,” I piped up, and she stilled. “No more blind dates, JoJo!”
She laughed and I thought for a moment.
“…Unless it’s with Justin Timberlake.”
She smiled. “You’ve got it, Sista.”
Two
“Cammie-Lou, you’re in the ER tonight.”
My mouth gaped open so far that I half-expected a fly to swarm inside.
“What?!” I yelled at Becky, the head ICU nurse.
“I know, sorry, Sweets. Amanda flaked again. I’m about to fire her lazy ass.”
I laughed. Becky was an open book, and she’d tell you how it was no matter how hard it was for you to hear. If she said something behind your back, you’d best believe she’d say it to your face, too.
I stared at her greying, brown hair and round face while holding back an eye-roll. She was watching me with her eyebrows raised, waiting for my snarky reply, but I held it in. I just wasn’t in the mood tonight.
“Fine,” I puffed, and she gave me her wicked grin.
“That’s my girl. You’re my favorite; you know that, right?”
“Well,” I said, placing my stethoscope around my neck. “You wouldn’t tell me that if it wasn’t true, so I guess I have to believe you.”
“Damn straight. Now get going before Dr. Douche comes up here.”
I laughed and made my way down to the first floor hoping I didn’t run into Dr. Douche—the biggest ass in the entire hospital.
You would think that I couldn’t possibly be happy working in a hospital, surrounded by so much death, especially after the year I’ve had. But ironically enough, it was probably the only thing keeping me happy nowadays. It kept me occupied. Between working the night shift three times a week, sometimes more if they needed me, and then catching up on my sleep, I truly didn’t have a lot of time to sit around and mope.
Plus, according to my father and every fucking person that had the balls to say something, “A year is too long to grieve.” It was bullshit. You couldn’t put a time limit on how long someone needed to grieve the death of someone they cared for. They’re their own person; everyone heals differently, and everyone grieves in their own time.
Rounding the nurses station, I murmured, “Okay girlies. Whatcha got for me?”
I wasn’t really a big fan of working in the ER. I typically worked in the ICU, where things were usually intense and extremely time-consuming. When I first started working here right out of college, I was stuck in the ER, and there’s a reason why I use the word “stuck.” Not many people like working the emergency room, especially at night and especially in the summer. People get drunk, and people get stupid. Plus, I enjoy having relationships with my patients, and you just can’t do that in the ER.
“Hey!” A male voice yelled from under the desk. I stepped up on my tiptoes and saw one of the new male nurses sitting on his butt, sporting his navy-blue scrubs, with papers splayed out all around him on the tiled floor.
My face scrunched up. “Sorry, I mean girlies and guy-ies…or man-ies…or…nevermind. What do we have tonight?”
April, one of the older ER nurses, glanced down at the laptop sitting on the counter. I watched as her eyes squinted, and then she lit up like a lightbulb. “Well, take your pick. In room number one, we’ve got a little kid with a jelly bean stuck up his nose, and… a very frantic dad. Mom’s out for the weekend, so he’s freaking out.” She laughed. “Then, in room number two, we’ve got a possible concussion, although the guy is saying he’s fine.”
I rolled my eyes. “Typical man.”
“Hey! Again…” the male nurse said, but I chose to ignore him.
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