Like Real People Do - part five

sorry for the ordering confusion, should be all fixed now.

No warnings.

Riley’s pouting.

She wriggles in her seat, hands on her hips, nose turned up in the air. “I don’t like carrots.”

“Okay well, that’s too bad because they’re part of your dinner.” You don’t have the finesse of a parent. You’re not a mother, there’s no natural instinct, and there’s certainly not a guidebook.

But you’re trying, even if it’s not enough. It’s all you can do, try for her, do it for her.

“I don’t want them.” You sigh.

“Riley, please. Come on, you have to eat vegetables.”

“Says who?” This girl is going to be the end of you.

“Says me, okay? I’m in charge.” You always thought ‘you’re not getting up from this table until you’re done x y or z’ was stupid, but now, it’s making a lot of sense. She scowls at the carrots, but spears one with a fork. “I cooked them in brown sugar, they can’t be that bad.” Even if they were good, she wouldn’t admit it now, but after the first few bites, she eventually finishes all but one straggler.

“Can we watch a movie before bed?” You shake your head and try to cut off the guilt that’s already building from having to deny her.

“You have time for a shower and maybe a few pages of your book.”

“Why?!” She stomps her feet and you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Riley, we went riding after school, and that takes up those extra two hours you have between dinner and bed. Right?” She huffs. Crosses her arms and then-

“You’re mean.” She doesn’t understand and you don’t hold it against her, but it still stings.

“I know,” you sigh, defeated. “Now up you go.”

You don’t wish your dead sister and her husband ill will, but sometimes, you do curse them for very good reasons.

One those reasons is the fact that they sunk Tess’s earnings into buying a horse farm with too much land, used all of their savings to help finance building a house from scratch and a new barn and now…

You’re paying a mortgage you can’t keep up with.

You stare at your phone, the open banking app. You wait to stress out over money after Riley goes to bed as a rule. She’s a kid, she’s been through enough, she doesn’t need more… anything. Stress, worry, fear. That’s for you to handle, and at the end of every month, when the payment is due, you feel like a ticking time bomb. Checking your accounts obsessively, adding up numbers again and again, going to sleep and waking up thinking about it.

It’s exhausting, but what are you supposed to do?

Sorry Riley, we have to sell the house you grew up in, all the horses, and your mom’s legacy. Let’s go live in a two bedroom apartment?

Yeah, no.

“Daisy?”

“What?” Ava is blinking at you from across the table and Olivia is frowning.

“We asked you what you thought? About the new job?”

“Oh. Sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” Too busy doing math. “It’s fine. I’m getting used to it. It was a steep learning curve at first, you know? The babies are so little.” They exchange a look. “What?”

“Have you talked to Doctor Riley?”

“I mean, yeah? He’s basically in charge of the unit, so…”

“No. Have you talked to him.” Ava emphasizes, and you sigh.

“No. I haven’t figured out a way to bring it up, and he only recently stopped laying into me all the time. It’s not like I planned this I… I’m trying to figure it out.” Olivia nods thoughtfully, and points her fork at you.

“Maybe you should let it slip during pillow talk.”

“What?!” Ava’s eyes go as round as the moon, and Olivia snickers.

“Doctor Riley has a thing for Daisy.”

“No he doesn’t, she’s full of shit, and lower your voice, Liv. Jesus.” Gossip spreads like wildfire in a hospital. She shrugs.

“He stares at her all the time-”

“He’s just intense-”

“And she saw him naked-”

“Just without a shirt on-”

“Oh my god.” Ava laughs. “You like him.”

“No, I do not.”

“Uh huh. Look at you. You’re getting flustered and you never get flustered.” She’s cackling now, head tipped back, and you have an urge to punch her in the throat. “I don’t blame you. The older man thing is hot.”

“Oh my god, it’s not an older man thing and I-”

“It would be okay, you know.” Olivia interrupts quietly, “if you did. What happened-”

“Well I don’t so it doesn’t matter.” Her focus shifts, attention turning towards something behind you, and the tension in your spine releases.

“Paul Revere.” She coughs into her hand, and as you freeze, Ava perks up.

“It’s just dad and Doctor MacTavish.” Ava has called John dad since he dressed her down in a hallway one time and punctuated his lecture with ‘I’m not mad at you Ava, I’m disappointed.’ She waves. “Hi dad!” He shakes his head from across the cafeteria, mirth shining in his blue eyes, and she sighs.

“I don’t care what you say. The older man thing is hot.”

“Excuse me?” The woman startles at the sound of your voice. “Can I help you?”

“Oh I’m Samantha.” Okay? And what the fuck are you doing at Ellie’s crib? And why is your hand in there?

“Is there something I can help you with Samantha? Take your hand out of the crib, please.” You edge closer. She’s right at the rail, looking down at Ellie, your patient, your baby for all intents and purposes, with a small, sad smile on her face. Panic flares in your blood.

“How is she doing?” She does remove her hand, thank god, because if she hadn’t you don’t know what you would have done. Twisted her fingers until they broke, maybe.

“Who are you?” She blinks, and you look her over, checking for a visitor pass or an ID badge of any kind. When you don’t see one, your hackles raise even higher. “This is a secure floor, how did you get in here? And where is your mask?”

“Oh I’m her aunt. Her dad let me in.” You look around for the father, Seth, to find he’s nowhere in sight. There’s no way for you to verify this woman is who she says she is, and this is your baby. You’re not taking any chances.

“Okay. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Her laugh is quiet and awkward as she gives you a weird look.

“I’m staying here until he gets back. He asked me to.” Your stomach ties itself into a knot. This woman could be anyone, she could be sick, she could be a baby-napper for all you know. She hasn’t been checked in, she doesn’t know any of the protocols. She could touch something. Pull something. Disconnect something. She had her god damn hand in the crib, and who knows if she washed it or what she was doing.

“That’s fine, but you’re not wearing any identification and you haven’t checked in so you’re not supposed to be in here.” It’s a struggle to keep your voice even keeled, and you have to press your nails into your palm to keep your hand from shaking.

“This is my niece,” she snaps, “I can be here if I want to be.”

“No actually,” you reach past her towards the wall and slam one of the buttons. “You cannot.” She goes from irritated to angry when security appears at the sliding glass doors but before your shoulders can drop from their position beneath your ears, you see him. Your ghost. Doctor Riley.

He’s a step behind Henry, a scowl already pulling at his lips. Great.

“What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is I was trying to tell this woman I’m Ellie’s aunt, but she freaked out and got aggressive with me.” Anger licks up your spine.

“I’m not some woman, I’m her nurse. I’m responsible for her, and this woman is not supposed to be in here.” Your heart rate is climbing. You don’t know why this situation is digging under your skin, but it’s escalating, you’re escalating. “She hasn’t been checked in, she has no ID and says Ellie’s dad let her in. She doesn’t have a mask and she hasn’t been screened for upper respiratory or fever, and she had her hand in the crib. She could have been touching her without washing her hands, she could have been touching her lines or…” you trail off. Isa is watching from her patient’s crib across the room with a thumbs up, and Key is at her side, smiling. Proudly. You take a deep breath. “She needs to leave. Now.” Your pulse is pounding under your jaw like you’ve just run a marathon. You look to Henry for back up, and he’s swift with it.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but Daisy is right. You can’t be in here.” Her eyebrows shoot into her forehead.

“This is ridiculous. I’m family!” She’s still ranting as he ushers her out, yelling about getting you fired, but it feels inconsequential. Your responsibility is to Ellie, not some stranger who claims to be family. You don’t care.

But you are shaking.

“Daisy.” Doctor Riley’s voice is that gentle tone, the one that’s smoothed out around the edges and endlessly patient. “Take a breath.”

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Take a breath.” You suck in a short burst, but he shakes his head. “Slowly.” He takes stock of Ellie’s monitors before looking down at where she sleeps. “You have nothing to apologize for. Your patient is vulnerable and cannot advocate for or protect herself, so she needs you to do it for her. It’s your job to take care of her and that’s what you did.” You nod, horrified at the lump starting to grow in your throat. What is happening to you? Where is your control? Your chest rattles with an exhale, and his eyes find yours. “You kept her safe.” Riley flashes through your mind. Safe. Healthy. Happy. The lump in the back of your throat grows bigger, and you look away immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” You croak. One syllable, because you’re afraid your voice might break on two.

You take a breath. You hold it. The world disappears for a moment as your lungs start to burn and you refocus, repair these cracks, this loss of control, and when you reemerge, when you release your air, everything is fine again. Normal.

Except Doctor Riley is studying you, and after a deep breath of his own, he frowns and walks away.