Work Text:
Kerry had first noticed the feeling on a particularly chaotic day at work. One where all of the responsibility fell to her, and she questioned all of the decisions she had made in her career to get to this place of nonstop chaos and Sisyphian mountains of paperwork. At first, it was a very general feeling; she figured it was conjured after a particularly stressful code. It was simple: I love working here. Safe and innocuous. Despite the unpredictability and abuse she shouldered some days, it was made worth it by the people she worked alongside. Most taxing jobs had that in common.
Of course, they saved lives. She knew that. But she was starting to feed off the camaraderie amongst her fellow doctors more and more than the glory of saving lives. Besides, the life-saving often wasn’t met with any real recognition, at least not anything like what the average person who didn’t work in the field might think would accompany performing such a heroic act. No fanfare, no congratulatory comped lunches from upstairs. She was just doing her job.
So then, the feeling evolved: I love working with these people.That feeling was what sustained her when Romano came down from upstairs to breathe down her neck, or there was a stressful loss in the trauma bay. Sometimes things happened so quickly in the ER that it was impossible to process them in the moment. Your heart had to catch up to your brain, which was barely in pace with your hands, scrambling to whatever it took to stabilize the patient. The people were what made it possible for you to carry the emotional baggage from room to room, day to day. You needed people who were in the trenches with you and understood the unique unpredictability faced each day.
There was a day recently—an overnight shift, actually; working graveyard shifts had a weird way of erasing the traditional feeling of time—that still hung in the gallery of her mind, unable to be taken down and stored away to be forgotten. Weirdly enough, it wasn’t the events of the day so much that made her feel as though forgetting about it would be doing herself a disservice, but rather the evolution of that thought that kept her at her stressful job: I love working here; I love working with these people. For as good as she felt she was at compartmentalizing the more emotional elements of her job, there were still shifts where even Kerry would admit that it was something easier said than done.
A drunk driver ran a red light and broadsided a mom and her son, who was asleep in the back seat. It was one of those tragedies that occurred in layers, making it that much more difficult of a pull to swallow. By the time the EMTs crashed through the doors of the ER, the kid was in bad shape. Their hydraulic spreader had malfunctioned, draining them of precious seconds needed to extract the boy from the car. By the time he was being wheeled into a trauma bay, anyone who had magnetized to the side of his gurney knew what the outcome would be.
By the time four in the morning rolled around, the general malaise that hung over the emergency department had subsided. Losing a kid was never easy, but it was—however unfortunate—a hazard of the trade. Most people pushed through their feelings by preoccupying themselves with work. After all, there would be more kids. It felt relentless sometimes. What was that Rainier Maria Rilke quote? Something about letting everything happen to you; beauty and terror?
Seeing the end of her shift of the horizon, Kerry snuck away to the break room, fiending for a Snickers bar. She would treat herself to them at the end of particularly grueling shifts; carrots at the end of the proverbial stick. It was depressing if she thought about it for too long. Today, however, she had justified an early indulgence.
The break room was painted in its usual pre-dawn darkness, the light from one of the street lamps on the corner outside the only thing casting shadows in the room. Kerry knew the room well enough to navigate in the shroud of darkness, not bothering with the lights upon entering.
Of course, she had done all of this thinking she would be the only person in the room.
Standing in the corner, in front of her swung open locker, was Jeanie. The click of the door opening and the interruption from the melee outside caused her to jump.
It was kind of weird, but Kerry had gotten good at identifying her coworkers by voice alone, or from a more vague angle, like from behind and far away. She liked to think that something about it helped make her a more efficient delegator in the heat of the moment.
Still, she was surprised that anyone else was in here. So much for enjoying her Bad Day Snickers in private.
Kerry closed the door behind her before saying anything, and the silence swallowed them both. It was always a welcome oasis from the chaos of every other space on their floor.
“Oh, hi, Jeanie,” she said, pretending that her eyes hadn’t been drawn to her immediately upon entry. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just need to grab my wallet, and I’ll be out of here –” Kerry paused as she got closer to her locker. She could see Jeanie more clearly now, the soft light from outside bouncing off her face. She had clearly been crying, crumpled up tissue in her fist the smoking gun.
Kerry swallowed thickly. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I can leave.” Then, almost reflexively: “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Jeanie said, voice thick. “It’s just been a really long shift, y’know?” She sniffled and turned away from Kerry to look in the mirror that clung to the door of her locker, wiping away smudges of mascara from underneath her eyes. “I’ll be okay.”
Kerry looked over at Jeanie and then at the floor, not wanting to make it feel like she was staring. It was always kind of jarring to see a crack in Jeanie’s armor like this. It was almost all of the time for everyone she worked alongside, but Jeanie always had a level-headed demeanor that she thought was so grounding. She felt above the volatility that came hand in hand with the department itself, so it made Kerry step back whenever it happened. It also reminded her of herself, which she selfishly liked.
“Yeah,” was all she could come up with in response. “It… it was. It was a rough one.” It was the first time she had allowed herself to really sit in the feeling all day. Kerry felt a little black rain cloud hover into view over both of them, hanging heavy and pregnant but never bursting with rain.
“It’s just hard when it’s kids,” Jeanie added, offering Kerry a small smile. “I guess that never gets easier, though.”
“No,” Kerry said. It didn’t.
“You know, it helps to talk about it,” Kerry said, offering a weak smile. “I keep on asking for us to have regular access to social work, but, you know, they’re always strapped up there. Or tied up with Behavioral. I just think that some of the stuff we see down here… it requires a more therapeutic response.” She watched as Jeanie nodded. “It’s not healthy to carry all of it around.”
“You’re right,” Jeanie sighed, shrugging out of her coat and hanging it in her locker.
Kerry rolled her eyes. “Anyway, you know as well as I do that the likelihood of getting approval for that from upstairs is unlikely.” They both laughed wryly. “But if you ever want to talk about it, I’m happy to offer up an ear to bend.” She smiled. She wondered briefly if she should extend the olive branch further and remind Jeanie of their friendship, one that fell apart because of workplace politics and bureaucracy (and her stubbornness, but she wasn’t ready to admit that part out loud, at least not to anyone else). “I know it may not seem like it sometimes, but I’m a pretty good listener.”
“I know,” Jeanie said, this time with a laugh. She turned towards her locker, pulling out her scarf and futzing with it around her neck. “I remember, Kerry.”
Kerry smiled. “Tell you what—we’re both off soon; do you want to grab breakfast, or coffee? It’s my treat. I’m happy to be there for you, Jeanie.” She paused, reaching a hand out to brush Jeanie’s arm. “As a friend.”
Jeanie turned to face Kerry and smiled back, albeit a bit apprehensively. “Yeah,” she sighed, her smile slowly growing. “Yeah, I’d really like that.” She slid into her winter coat, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Thanks, Kerry.”
They shared a smile, then—the first one they had all day.
:.:.:
“You know, being at a greasy spoon like this while the sun comes up always makes me feel like I’m back in college,” Kerry declared as she scraped butter across rye toast. They had each ordered an omelet (Kerry, Denver; Jeanie, veggie) and split a smoothie. The staff at Doc Magoo’s had been reluctant to begin putting them on the menu, but choosy doctors never seemed eager to order breakfast platters piled with sausage links and bacon, and couldn’t subsist on bowls of fruit cocktail alone. “Staying up studying all night and drinking coffee like water.”
Jeanie snorted. “I think you and I would have run in different circles in college,” she said with a smile. “I was more of a work hard, play hard type.” She brought a freshly topped off mug of coffee to her lips. “I did drink coffee like it was my job, though. Still do.” They both laughed at this, looking down at their plates instead of each other. Keeping each other emotionally at arm’s length felt disappointingly comfortable. It was the safe option, and Kerry knew that. Still, it was fun to imagine that possibility of friendship yet again, however unrealistic that wish felt.
“There is something kind of mysterious about ending your day with breakfast,” Jeanie added, stabbing a broccoli floret with her fork. “Something about still being up and around when everyone’s just getting up to start their day makes you feel like Batman.”
Kerry smiled. “That is true.”
They sat there together in silence for a while, working on their breakfasts and sipping coffee. In a way, the silence that hung over them now was comforting. It made the stakes seem non-existent. Kerry found herself less worried about whether or not she’d be able to preserve a friendship between her and Jeanie and more enraptured with the idea of spending time with her former friend, however fleeting that moment may be.
“I’m sorry you had a shitty day today,” Kerry said, finally daring to break their silence. “I know I said that to you earlier, but I feel like I really needed to emphasize how shitty today was.” She leaned on the curse word, relishing the freedom to swear now that they were outside of the workplace. She couldn’t get on board with dropping four-letter words at work; it seemed inappropriate. She took more pride in her work than that. She wasn't Doug Ross.
Jeanie smiled, laughing into her mug. “Well, it’s certainly not the first. Won’t be the last, either.”
“But some are harder than others.”
“Right.”
Kerry stacked a forkful of omelet onto her toast. “And you’re sure you’re okay? I don’t mean to nag, I just… I care about you, Jeanie. I really love working with you.” Her words spilled out of her all at once, as they often did. The word ‘love’ felt foreign in this context, but not uncomfortable. She let it roll around in her head, trying it out. She did love working with Jeanie. The longer she dwelled on it, the truer it felt. The kind of truth that radiated down to her bones that she didn’t need to question.
“I guess… what I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t feel good to walk in on your friend hiding in the break room so they can cry.”
“To be fair, I wasn’t hiding,” Jeanie rebuffed, laughing slightly. “But I know what you mean. And thanks,” she added. “I think I’ll be okay.”
“What you said earlier, about it being harder when it’s a kid… you’re right. That will derail your entire day.” She offered Jeanie a kind, patient smile. “But I’ve seen you handle it with grace before. I know you’ll be able to handle it with grace again.”
Jeanie brought a hand to her face, wiping a tear from her eye. “I don’t know why this one got me,” she sighed. “I think sometimes I think too long about how they have their whole lives ahead of them and then how in an instant, they don’t.” Her eyes started to well up again. “I know that’s morbid, but… I don’t know. It’s my frame of reference, I guess.”
Kerry felt her stomach twist. Death was something that worked alongside all of them each day; they may as well have regarded it like just another colleague. She supposed Jeanie had a different kind of relationship to it than she did. They all did, but hers must have been more defined. Death was something Jeanie could reach out and touch. No matter how much she thought she understood, Kerry had to come to the conclusion that she really never would completely get it. That was always a difficult pill for her to swallow.
She couldn’t say that out loud, though. Instead, she offered another smile as Jeanie hid behind her mug of coffee. This one was a bit more reserved.
“I get it,” she said, her voice softer than it usually was. A pregnant pause swelled between them, Kerry finally compelled to break the silence. “You know, Jeanie, I’m really sorry about all of that… drama with your job. I don’t think I’ve ever formally apologized to you for that.” Jeanie’s eyes flitted up over the rim of the mug she hid behind, looking intently at Kerry. “I didn’t approach your concerns from a place of empathy, and I’m sorry.”
Jeanie maintained her steely demeanor, the smallest trace of a smile cracking through her lips. “Thanks, Kerry. I appreciate it.” A brief pause. “Really.”
“Well, good. I… I think I spent too much time worrying about you not wanting to maintain our friendship, and I didn’t spend enough time reflecting on my own pigheadedness.” She felt herself getting choked up, and quickly swallowed the emotion. Not because she didn’t want to show her cards, but because the feeling had snuck up on her. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“Of course,” Jeanie said, and she reached a hand out across the table, silently offering Kerry to take it in her own. Kerry obliged. “Kerry, I would love to be friends again.” Her smile swallowed her face now, toothy and brilliant. “I really missed it.”
Kerry felt her heart skip then, her pulse suddenly slipping into the hand that held Jeanie’s. She always hated it when the emotional contradicted her years of medical training. Not possible, and yet Jeanie somehow had the ability to make her feel her own heart in her body, keeping time like a metronome.
She squeezed her hand, just to make sure it was still real and attached to the end of her wrist. Impulsively, Jeanie sent Kerry a pulse back.
They fell into a lull of conversation then, stepping over the other with snippets of their personal lives that they hadn’t been sharing during the absence of their friendship. They didn’t say no when the server stopped by to refill their cups of coffee, the sun slowly crawling up into the sky through the window behind them. Jeanie made a joke about the sun coming up being a ‘last call,’ and they bundled up into their coats and scarves and hats, and trudged out the door into the snow, which was beginning to pick up (just in time for the morning commute). A bit reluctantly at first, they fell into an embrace.
“Don’t tell anyone I admitted to being stubborn,” Kerry said to Jeanie, chin on her shoulder. “Or I’ll have to kill you.” They both laughed before going their separate ways; Jeanie to the train, Kerry to the parking garage.
Kerry continued to add to her train of thought from earlier in the day as she walked to her car: I love working here; I love working with these people; I love working with Jeanie. She loved that she would get to have a friend at work once again, but she especially loved that it was Jeanie. Kerry couldn’t yet identify the feeling, but she felt such a deep kinship with Jeanie. She was so steady. She also reminded her a bit of herself in a way. Her illness often entered the room before she ever had the chance to, and Kerry knew what that was like. She would never admit as much to Jeanie, but it did endear her to her more, albeit sometimes in a way she feared was excessive.
She sometimes wondered if each of their respectively warped pieces fit together somehow, like a jigsaw puzzle picked up from the thrift store. One that had likely spent the majority of its days gathering dust and absorbing humidity from underneath its storage spot underneath the basement stairs. A fumbling, unexpected piece of art.
I love working here; I love working with these people; I love working with Jeanie. I love Jeanie.
Kerry climbed into her car and let the engine spark to life, hands clutching her steering wheel as she waited for it to heat up. Faintly, she felt the pulse of Jeanie’s hand from earlier, buzzing deeper and deeper in her body until she felt it in her chest.
She drove away into the morning, the sensation accompanying her the entire way home.