Page 32 of Together Again

Max

New York

“You look like shit.”

I chuckled. “Thanks, I love it when you shower me with compliments.”

Jacki was the new head nurse and fast becoming a good friend.

“I mean it, Max, when was the last time you went home?”

“Eight hours ago.” I rubbed my eyes and scratched my growing stubble, knowing my answer wouldn’t placate her. Going home for a shower after doing a double shift and coming right back to the hospital didn’t count as going home in Jacki’s eyes.

“Max,” Shelly, one of the other nurses, called out from a consultation room.

“Coming right up, Shell.”

Jacki put her hand on my arm. “Max, you’re a brilliant nurse, but you’re close to burning out. Take a day off before I make you.”

I nodded and then gave her a quick hug before walking toward Shelly.

One of my favorite things about this hospital had been working with Joel’s mom, Sílvia. When she’d died, I’d thought I wouldn’t be able to work here again, and I hadn’t been able to get through a whole shift without breaking into tears for a while.

Sílvia had been more than a friend or a mother figure. At work, she’d been my mentor, and without her here, I’d started doubting myself all the time.

When Jacki had arrived at the hospital, it was like a new version of Sílvia had joined the team. They had different ways of working, but their approach with the nurses was very similar. Jacki was firm but fair and made sure we were always fighting fit.

She was right; I needed a day off. If nothing else, I was dangerously close to running out of clean underwear.

I’d help Shelly out with this patient and then I’d go home.

Shelly met me halfway to the room, which meant whatever she wanted to say, she didn’t want the patient hearing. The curtain was closed all the way around the bed but it wasn’t soundproof.

“What’s up, Shell?”

“We have a kid in there, looks to be around sixteen or seventeen. He came in with hypoglycemia. He was shaking and dizzy at work. Apparently, his boss knows he’s a diabetic and gave him some orange juice, but it had noeffect, so they called the emergency services.”

“How is he now?”

“He’s stable, but…”

“But?”

“He’s not talking to anyone. Earlier, I thought I caught a few words when he was on his cell phone. They were definitely not Spanish, so I’m wondering if he’s Portuguese or Brazilian. I thought maybe you could try talking to him.”

I loved the chance to speak Portuguese.

When I’d hung out with Joel at his place after school, I’d had to learn. Sílvia had had this rule that Portuguese was spoken at home and made noallowances for me, which now I really appreciated. Despite my accent, I was comfortable speaking Portuguese at a native level.

I asked Shelly to give me a few minutes alone with the kid and walked to the room, pushing the curtain aside to go in.

Shelly was right, the kid couldn’t have been over seventeen. His thick, dark-brown hair almost covered his assessing brown eyes that looked at me with clear distrust.

“Olá,o meu nome éMaxe eu sou enfermeiro neste hospital.” I said my name and that I was a nurse at the hospital.

His eyes went wide. So he understood Portuguese. One point for Max.

“Can you tell me your name?” I asked, now in English.