Chapter Two

The only time Selene had been in the Seraphim Emergency Room before this was sometime when she was little. She had taken a nasty tumble down the stone steps of her mother's apartment, bursting into a puddle of tears and blood-soaked bandages. Her mother had been so frightened then, eyes bloated out of her sockets in worry, that she'd used every last drop of fuel to drive the car here. It had felt so different then, with Selene being the center of attention for every cooing nurse with a needle and a lollipop. She loved being told how brave she was, supplied with ginger ale and crackers on command, and being told how "brave" she was for not crying during her head CT.  Despite being in pain, it had managed to feel controlled. secure, and safe. 

This is different.

The first thing she notices is that the main nurses' station is bustling with life, pulsing like a heart in a body too sick to know itself from its own limbs. The Emergency Department itself is one big, looping square: Selene can see that no matter which way you went, if you kept turning right long enough, you'd end up right back where she was standing. Patient rooms are nothing more than polka dotted curtains -- closed if its occupied, open if its empty. There is a general chaotic hum that seems to flow heavy in the air. The sounds of stretchers locking and unlocking seemed in tune with the sounds of rolling vital machines being pulled along by assorted bodies into different rooms. Pockets of time in a place that never stood still: a fitting arena in the middle of New York.

Amidst the chaos of rolling stretchers and EMTs, Selene begins to walk through the space, floating almost, like she's trying to see what effort it would take to look like she belonged. Coffee mug still in hand, winter jacket still on, badge aching underneath all the unnecessary garments. She knew she was to join "the other residents", but she had yet to see another white coat that looked anything like her own. No Dr. Geist in sight -- or at least, no one that looked like they could be Dr. Geist -- and there were far too many nurses to decipher which one was the charge. She keeps herself tucked inside herself, eyes to the floor, hoping that perhaps if she just got behind the nurses' station, she might look like she belonged there.

The station square in the middle of the Department resembled the most uniformly chaotic semi-circle Selene had ever seen. Papers were scattered by computer keyboards, with assorted patient labels and signatures all over them. Selene can make out the carcasses of to-go coffee cups strewn about as she passes, next to donut boxes and take out containers that don't even feel out of place. It's not an overt mess, no, but it was evident hard work happened at these desks. Something about it makes her smile. She's happy she's a piece of such a grand, messy picture.

"Hey," comes a voice, "are you a doctor, or do you just play one on TV?"

Selene blinks, slowly so, before craning her neck in the direction of where such an odd question could be coming from. There are many people, but there is only one woman standing with arms crossed and eyes fixed.

The first thing that Selene noticed was that she was beautiful: a slender figure that filled her form out just right, soft looking skin, and a face that was almost too symmetrical in contour. The only thing that ruined that was the peppering of freckles along her face, and the astounding heterochromia she had -- a golden left eye, and a bright blue right eye. Her hair was a silky-looking silver colour, pulled up in a ponytail high atop her head, and two bangs framing the side of her face. She's young, and by the way she's staring, means business. 

Selene is almost so taken aback that she forgets to answer. "I -- " she begins, but the woman is quick to cut her off. "Don't answer that. You're the last resident of today's group. We've been waiting on you." The woman is confident in her stride, approaching Selene and withdrawing a folder she'd had tucked under her armpit. "Here," she says, "you're going to need this for orientation today. I was hoping you'd get here sooner, but,you're here now and that's all that matters."

She's holding the folder now, but the dumbfounded look on her face must've remained. She seems to think for a second, before quietly answering. "Uh...are you Dr. Geist?" she asks, and at this, the woman snorts. "Who?" she chortles, "me? Are you kidding? No, no I'm not Dr. Geist. If I was Dr. Geist, I would actually get things done in a timely manner around here. But -- " she waves, perfectly manicured fingers pointing in various directions, " -- as you can see, nothing is timely, ergo, I am not." 

She seems to wait on this, startling eyes folding into coy gaze, before softening her expression with a smile. "I'm Delevigne, I'm the charge nurse." An extended hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Delevigne," Selene repeats, taking her hand shaking it -- firmly, but not too firm. "Pleasure. I'm Selene -- err, sorry, Dr. Watson." A knowing nod now, pulling her hand back to settle her coffee mug on a nearby desk. "I, uh, I haven't found a place to put my stuff yet, sorry. I'm a little turned around."

Delevigne appears understanding, nodding with a beckoning wave. "Right. I get it. It's pretty easy to get lost if you don't know what you're doing. You can come with the rest of the residents for a tour." She's already turning around, her deep blue scrubs framing her figure perfectly. Selene is admittedly trying not to be jealous. She follows close behind, not even bothering to look at the folder just yet. "Sorry -- uh -- Delevigne. Will Dr. Geist be here today? I wanted to ask him some questions about --" 

She turns around then, placing a hand on Selene's shoulder with a kind of cool attitude that gave her reason for pause. "Dr. Watson," she says, "with all due respect, Dr. Geist never leaves his desk unless he either sees a supervisor, or a food courier. I'll be frank, I'm not even sure how he's still working here." An exasperated sigh. "No, I'll be running your orientation today. I'll be giving you a tour and read you through policies, and then -- "

"Really?" Selene asks, quizzical. "The attending won't be at orientation?"

Delevigne crinkles her nose. "Not unless you have a sub shop coupon."

"And they're letting the charge nurse teach the residents?"

"Ahh, right there," she says now, crossing the space to meet Selene's gaze. Her voice is neither rude nor submissive, but rather, a curious mix between the two. "Rule number one: trust your nurses. I will never disrespect you or your knowledge, but in return, I ask you not to disrespect mine." 

Selene feels like she should take this as aggressive. 

Oddly enough, she doesn't.

"I have been the charge nurse in this ER since I was twenty-six years old. I'm thirty-four now, and while I understand that I still have a long way to go, I have earned every responsibility entrusted to me." There is beat of silence, only filled with Delevigne's sigh of released tension. "I get it -- it's against, like, every known protocol ever, but trust me, it is better this way."

She isn't entirely sure why, but in a way, Selene is almost comforted by Delevigne. She has a presence that is hard to deny, and with the way she's carrying herself, she is pretty sure she knows it, too. Selene tries to silently match her footsteps with Delevigne's, sighing. "If you say so," she mutters, "it just seems a little weird."

"I never said it wasn't," Delevigne snickers, "I just said that's how it is. Believe me, you're not the first resident to question it, and more than likely won't be the last." She turns her head, trying to see Selene over her shoulder. "Let's get your stuff somewhere first, and then we can get started."

Delevigne is purposeful in her motions, guiding Selene over to a doorway tucked into the back of the Department. It's a strong, lightly hued wooden door, complete with a terminal for badge access and a sign that simply reads STAFFING LOUNGE. She crosses her arms, hip jutted to the side in coy observation. "Go on in," she says, "the Doctors' side is on the right. Your name will be on a locker, so just toss your stuff in there and we can ahead and get started." 

Selene nods, nervously so, fumbling to pull her badge forward off its reel and -- beep! -- allow herself access within. She turns to look at Delevigne for just a brief flicker of a moment, as if waiting to see if she was going to follow, only choosing to duck into the lounge when she doesn't. 

The lounge itself is clean. Fancy. Expensive. Leather chairs and hardwood tables decorate the interior, while the walls are plastered with assorted motivational posters and workplace notices. A TV hangs comfortably on the wall, playing some news channel she's never heard of. Lockers line the southernmost wall with name plaques for their owners. Selene peers closer. Sure enough, the left side of the lockers are for all the RNs, and the more right she went, the more MDs she was seeing.

And there was hers, smack in the middle of two other lockers -- SELENE W. MD. It's just as surreal as everything else. The smile spreading across her lips is subtle, but full of joy all the same, even as she slips the open lock off the handle and pulls the locker open. Inside of the locker is, unsurprisingly, empty. Selene thinks it feels like opportunity. Fresh beginnings. She is quick in placing her travel mug first, then her jacket, and standing upright to glance it all over once it was done.

There.

In a moment all too fleeting, Selene thinks, this is probably the last chance I have to run away. It's an odd thought, but its hers, floating inside the space between her eyes and resting flatly between. There is a momentary sense of panic that floods her chest, of which she is quick to shake off and give the locker door a gentle push closed. The lock, she decides, can get a combination later. For now, she hangs it just where she found it. Maybe on her lunch break she can handle that. But not now. Now, it was time to see the years of her hard work being realized in full.

To her right is a mirror against the wall, sat by a coffee station that looks all too abused. Yet there, between abandoned coffee pods and unwashed coffee cups, was her. Dr. Selene Watson. Full realized in the mirror with grown-up white coat and all. She allows herself a small turn, looking over her shoulder and back again. Somewhere, in the distance of her mind, she can hear her mother cheering her on. "My sweet Selene, every moment has lead you to this. Seize your moment. Shine like I know you do."

Selene brushes her free hand over her shoulder, while the other continues to clasp the folder Delevigne had given. "Buff out those kinks and shine, baby," she mutters to herself, before exhaling and turning towards the door.

She knows Delevigne is out there.

And so was the rest.

Whatever that was.

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

Very good writing. Selene's boss is well described, and you make Selene's reverence and awe of her quite clear. I can just imagine how powerful the impact on Selene is when she sees her name emblazoned that way with "MD" on the end. With lofty positions, the responsibilities are great.

[FlatDaddy]

Very nice. No nonsense, cool clear language that matches the austere surroundings of your main character. Your emergency room sounds and feels just like the many I have been in throughout my life. When I was a kid, especially. I never learned I am not made of steel.

I had to laugh at Delevigne -- not because she's funny, she most definitely is not. But she is exactly as I had expected, just as you have described her to me.Cool, self assured, perfectly in charge of her medical fiefdom, doing everything she does beautifully. That last word describes her better than any other, regardless of how you might mean it: beautiful in appearance, in attitude, in how she runs the show -- and oh, yes, she does do that! Because she is beautifully in charge!

And Selene? Oh, she's going to be just fine. She is ready and in her element at last!
You have drawn these characters so well, Emmy, and this place that they occupy. I can't wait for the action to start! Well Done!