Page 3 of Big Easy

SUTTON

I take a sip of coffee and sigh when my phone lights up with a text from my sister. There is only one reason she would be texting me at six o'clock in the morning. Swiping my finger across the screen, I tap on the text icon.

Lilly : For the love of god, call dad. I'm sick of him blowing up my phone.

Closing out my sisters' text, I open the next.

Collin : Dad is looking for you.

I roll my eyes and move on to the next.

Mom : Your father is driving me nuts. Call him. Sutton, you know how he gets. I'd say you have at least an hour before he shows up at your door.

I look at the time of my mom's text and note it was sent almost thirty minutes ago and quickly pull up dads' number and tap call. He picks up on the first ring. "Sutton, I've been worried sick."

"Good morning to you too, Dad."

"Don't say good morning to me. Why haven't you returned my calls? You know the rules."

"Those are your rules, not mine. I'm twenty-five years old, Dad. I don't have to check in with you every second of the day."

"Stop being a smart ass. I don't check in on you every second of the day."

I laugh. "The dozen or so missed calls and numerous texts I have gotten from you since last night say differently. You're a helicopter dad. Admit it."

"I don't know what you're talking about?"

"Really? It's six in the morning, and I'll bet anything your shoes are on and your keys are in your hand because you were about to drive over here.

Tell me I'm wrong, Dad." I can't hide the humor in my voice, and his long pause tells me I'm right.

I left the nest three years ago and now share an apartment with my best friend, Maci, but my dad still worries.

If he had his way, both Lilly and I would live at home forever.

"Whatever," he grumbles. "Anyway, back to my first question."

"Dad, I didn't get home until late last night. I'm beat and fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. I promise I didn't ignore your calls on purpose. I didn't even hear my phone until the alarm went off this morning."

"Rough day yesterday?" he asks.

My smile fades. "Yeah. A patient passed away. I stayed with the family after my shift was over to make sure they would be okay."

"I'm sorry to hear that, baby girl. I'm sure the family was thankful you were there to help them during that difficult time. Do you need to talk about it? I can still come over to your place."

This is one of the many reasons I love my dad. He is a doctor and understands how difficult my job can be. "I'm okay, Dad."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. But I'll see you tonight at dinner."

"Okay. I love you, Sutton."

"Love you too, Dad."

When I hang up with Dad, I shoot a quick text to my brother and then one to Lilly.

Me : Sorry he blew up your phone so early. He was only his usual self.

Lilly : The man is certifiable, but dammit, I love him for it.

Me : I'll see you tonight. Love you.

Lilly : Love you too.

Lilly is my twin and also my complete opposite.

I'm quieter and more reserved, where Lilly is boisterous and an in-your-face kind of person.

Growing up, I spent so much of my time with my nose stuck in a book, I had a hard time making friends, whereas Lilly was popular and made friends anywhere she went.

People are drawn to her outgoing personality.

She never once made me feel like I was an outcast, though.

My sister always had my back, and she made sure I was included in her circle.

I remember one time in the ninth grade, I was sitting in the cafeteria at lunchtime, and, per usual, I was absorbed in whatever book I was reading.

Then, out of nowhere, a guy who played for the football team and known as the school prankster came up behind me, snatched the book from my hands, and started teasing me.

It just so happened that my sister and her group of friends had just walked into the cafeteria.

Two seconds later, my sister was on the boy.

And right there, in the middle of the lunchroom, in front of the entire school, my sister punched Joey Miller in the face, giving him a bloody nose.

The little incident caused her to get suspended from school for two days.

The joke was on the principal, though, because my dad ended up checking me out along with Lilly and took us to get ice-cream and then to the movies.

Not that my parents condone fighting, but they believe in a family having each other's backs.

Dad had a few colorful choice words for Joey Miller's father, who also had been at the school to pick up his son.

Mr. Miller was livid at the fact his big tough jock of a son had been beaten by a girl.

"Morning," my best friend, Maci, grumbles with a sleep-filled voice. I look over my shoulder as she walks into the kitchen and heads straight for the coffee.

"Good morning."

"What time did you get in last night?" Maci asks as she sits down across from me at the kitchen table.

"About ten o'clock."

"Wow. Why so late?"

"A patient passed away, and her daughter was not handling it well."

"Was this the woman that had breast cancer? The one with the young daughter in college?"

I take another sip of coffee. "Yeah. Dad is not in the picture, and she is an only child. She broke down after the doctor pronounced her mom. I stayed until she had calmed down and helped her with some paperwork."

Jasmine is the nineteen-year-old daughter of a patient who had been under

hospice care for the past four weeks. She has no family and no siblings.

Her mom had been Jasmine's whole world, and I had gotten to know both of the women pretty well over the past month.

Jasmine is in her first year of college.

She wants to be a teacher like her mom. Jasmine and I connected in that way.

Like her, I followed in my parents' footsteps by going into the medical field.

My father, Liam Murphy, is a well-respected doctor, and my mom is a nurse.

I chose to take the same path as my mom by becoming a nurse myself.

I have been working at a hospice facility for over two years.

At first, my parents had their reservations about my choice because they know how emotionally challenging working in hospice can be.

I was set in my decision, though. I'm not a nurse who helps a patient get better.

I'm the nurse who comforts her patients and their families through an emotional transition.

The end of life deserves as much passion and care as the beginning.

I work in Heaven's waiting room. That is my calling.

Changing the subject, I ask, "What are your plans tonight? Want to come to dinner at my parents’ house?

" I have dinner at my parents’ house every Thursday night.

It's been a standing tradition since my older brother Collin, my sister, and I moved out.

No matter how busy we all are, none of us miss Thursday night dinner.

Maci and I met in nursing school and have been friends ever since.

She is a frequent Thursday dinner guest.

"Can't," Maci says. "I agreed to switch shifts with Candace, so that means I'm working tonight.

I'm going to run a few errands, then come back here and catch a few hours before I go in.

" Maci stands and makes her way back down the hall to her bedroom.

"I'll catch you later. Tell your mom and dad, I said hi. "

"Will do."

"Oh, wait," Maci turns back around. "Are we still on for pole class this weekend?"

"Sure are." I smile. Pole dancing is not something I ever saw myself doing, but after a bad breakup a couple years ago, Maci convinced me to join a class with her.

She'd already had a few lessons and told me it would help boost my confidence.

Not only did it give me the confidence I needed but it is also great exercise.

Now, she and I try catching a class at least once a week.

Standing, I take my mug to the sink, rinse it, then place it in the dishwasher before making my way to my room to get ready for work.

After a quick shower, I tie my long blonde hair back into a loose braid and throw on a pair of purple scrubs and slip on my tennis shoes. On the way out the door, I grab a granola bar and an apple to eat in the car on my way to work.

"Good morning, Sutton," Ada, a fellow coworker, greets me when I walk up to the nurses' station and stow my purse in the filing cabinet.

Ada is the oldest and is like a mother to all the other nurses.

She took me under her wing my first day and has been a great friend ever since.

She is supposed to retire next month, and I, for one, will miss her when she is gone.

"Hi, Ada. How are you this morning?"

"I'm doing good, sugar. The Lord blessed me with his sunshine this morning, so I can't complain.

" Sitting behind the computer, Ada adds, "Got a new patient for you today.

Mr. Sanders was brought in about an hour ago.

He is in room 112, and his son is with him.

Dr. Ward saw him when he first came in."

I nod and take the seat Ada just vacated behind the computer and begin reading over Mr. Sanders' information.

Henry Sanders is sixty-four years old and has stage four brain cancer.

He was diagnosed ten months ago. The son has been taking care of his father independently, but recently it became more difficult for him.

Mr. Sanders took his father to the hospital two days ago, saying his father has been experiencing bouts of delirium and has stopped eating and drinking.

The patient's oncologist ordered him into hospice, which brings us here.

"Mr. Sanders is settled in and resting comfortably," Ada tells me as she gathers her purse and jacket.

"Thanks, Ada. I'll go in and check on him and introduce myself to his son."

"See you tomorrow, Sutton."