Our Last Time: A Novel Read online

  She tilted her head at me before hitching her eyebrow. She grabbed the folders from the front counter, and was now facing me as she held them close to her chest. I knew what that meant.

  “We have two patients waiting for us this morning. A seventy-two-year-old man who can’t walk, and some dude in his twenties…” she paused, holding a finger up to me as she looked through his folder.

  “Oh god, no.” She flipped to the next page, and shook her head. “What? No.” She flipped another page over, and then let out a gasp that made me want to plug my ears.

  “It is him,” she cursed under her breath. She scowled at the documents in her hand as her fingertips curled against the papered flap of the folder. “That asshole, I can’t believe…” she snapped her mouth closed, and then took a deep breath before biting her upper lip. She realized she’d said enough.

  I had caught her drift, so I held out a voluntary palm. “I’ll take the dude in his twenties.”

  She sighed a dramatic breath of relief, “Thank you so much.” She then slapped the folder in my outstretched hand. “He’s in room 2o9,” she said, before turning away from me like she’d dropped off ghost residue and was making her escape from it.

  I scrunched my nose at the view of her perfect blonde head instead of saying you’re welcome. I watched as she scurried towards room 207, where she’d have to wash an old man’s naked body, and help him take his morning dump.

  I was thinking she might have lost her mind - or I was underestimating what I was about to get myself into.

  I groaned as I turned to catch Denise’s half-hearted smile. “The girl is all drama, Willow. Don’t let her get to you.”

  That eased my thoughts a little.

  I knocked on room 209’s door before walking in without an invitation. It was policy to knock and go in anyway, even if they hadn’t answered after five seconds.

  “Good morning,” I announced kindly.

  I was looking at his file as I walked in, and I squinted at the paper. His name was Wyatt Blanquette. He was twenty-eight years old. He had a heart-attack last night, and… cause of heart attack hadn’t been noted.

  I looked up from the documents to find him sitting up on the hospital bed, two pillows propped under his lower back as he blankly stared at the television. He hadn’t acknowledged me.

  “How are you feeling, Mr. Blanquette?” I asked softly.

  “Like I had a heart attack last night,” he answered crisply. His eyes stayed fixed on the television screen. His feet stuck out at the end of the blanket. He was tall, and muscular. He hadn’t looked unhealthy at all, or like he’d had a heart attack last night. His soft black hair was shaved thin and short at the sides, and a quiff was settled there at the top of his head.

  This man had a heart attack last night, but he somehow managed to style his hair - or had gotten someone to style it for him before the nurse came in to check-up on him. Before I came in to check-up on him.

  My brow puckered briefly, but I quickly regained my straight-face.

  “Where are you hurting?” I asked, as I walked a little closer to his bed.

  I checked his IV drops, waiting for him to answer me.

  He paused, as he flipped through a few channels on the television.

  “My chest hurts, for one. My elbow also hurts, because I fell on it when I went into a cardiac arrest. It’s probably broken. I need some real pain medication, not that over-the-counter bullshit,” he looked up at me, and I caught his silvered-brown eyes. I gulped before nodding.

  “Sure thing,” I said, as I wrote notes in his file. “I’ll schedule you for an X-Ray, and Doctor Venice will acquaint you during the X-Ray. Your prescription has been noted,” I finished with a professed nod.

  “Thanks.” He turned his head back towards the television.

  “You ready for breakfast, Mr. Blanquette?”

  “I am.”

  “Milk or orange juice?”

  He hadn’t smiled or looked at me. “Orange juice,” he answered.

  “Okay, I’ll be back shortly,” I told him, before exiting the small room.

  I heated a microwaveable breakfast, and then put the portioned plate of food on a tray, along with a carton of orange juice and a packet of plastic eating utensils before escorting it back to room 209.

  I knocked on the door, no answer - five seconds passed, and I opened the door slowly with my free hand.

  I held the tray in front of me as I pulled the legs out on the tray with one hand.

  He had his eyes on me this time, and he sat farther up in bed as I placed the eating stand over his thighs that were indented under the sheets.

  “Need anything else?” I asked, as he tore his plastic wrap, and grabbed his fork.

  He paused for a moment. “Another pillow would be nice,” he said.

  I nodded. “Okay, I’ll be back shortly.”

  I brought him a pillow, and he joined it with the others that were settled under his lower back. “Need anything else?” I asked him again.

  He held up his orange juice carton and shook it lightly, looking at me from the corner of his eye. “Another orange juice would be nice.”

  I brought him another orange juice, and Denise noticed the small scowl on my face as I exited his room before getting it. She had given me a knowing look.

  I had a fake smile plastered on my face as I gave him his carton of orange juice. My gaze caught his empty tray.

  “You're done eating?” I asked slowly.

  He nodded, “All done.” His tone was nonchalant.

  He moved his hands as I went to grab the tray. I stopped about a foot away from his bed before turning around, and flipping the legs back up on it.

  Just when I was about to open the door to leave, his sharp voice stopped me. “Wait.”

  I turned around, and he sighed. “Aren’t you supposed to ask me if I need anything else?”

  I wanted to throw the tray at his annoying poker face, but refrained, because his face was probably the only good thing he had going for him.

  He had a bad heart, and a shitty attitude. He also hadn’t smiled at all. I had some measure of sympathy for everyone.

  I nodded. “You need anything else, Mr. Blanquette?”

  He shook his head no, and then said, “I might need something else in about an hour.”

  “I’ll see you in about an hour, then.”

  I walked out of his room, dreading the fact that I worked in the smallest hospital in Chicago.

  We were hands-on nurses here, because we had so few patients. There were two floors. Fifteen rooms on the second floor, and thirty on the first. There was no way Tessa and I would have thirteen more patients to assist this morning or even five, because we were on the second floor. The first floor had to be full before we got more patients. Mornings were usually when a patient would leave and go home, unless they lived alone and needed more time to heal. We were never full in the mornings. Unless something tragic happened somewhere near us, we weren’t going to get much more patients this morning, if any at all.

  We had usually been full only on weekend nights, and those patients typically wouldn’t stay past one or two nights.

  Wyatt Blanquette had a heart attack last night, and just by looking at his exposed elbow - I could tell it definitely had something wrong with it.

  He hadn’t had any visitors last night, or the first hour in the morning. Did this man not have family or friends in Illinois? Was that why he’d been so conserved?

  It worried me that I might have to take care of this man for a few weeks, and talk to him because he hadn’t had anyone else to talk to.

  I hoped he had family and friends in Illinois.

  I also hoped he’d be gone within the next few days.

  May 16th, 1997, 3:51p.m.

  Willow

  I was wearing a strapless pink dress, and it was way too pink. It was magenta. Who looked good in magenta? I definitely hadn’t.

  Kennedy seemed to like it, though, so I resisted the urge
to rip it off of my body and set it aflame.

  “How did you know my size?” I asked him.

  He bought me a pink dress for prom, which prom was scheduled for tomorrow and I wasn’t excited about it. But I liked how he’d been smiling a lot more ever since I had agreed to go with him. He smiled a lot already, he just smiled more now. It was hard to think that prom was the reason behind it.

  “I kind of went in your closet when you weren’t looking, and dug around until I finally found the only dress you had,” he sighed, but he was smiling. “You’re a size two.”

  That dress he found was only worn when there was a special occasion. Which it would have to be really special, and my mother would have to fight me on it. Kennedy was lucky I loved him so much. This dress was fairly atrocious.

  We stood in my large bedroom, and stared at my reflection through my body-length mirror that was about a foot away from my queen-sized bed.

  “The bottom is very frilly, but it’s soft. I’m glad you didn’t get me one that would make me itchy everywhere.” I turned around, and looked up so I could smile at him. He hugged me over the shoulders as I grabbed his waist.

  “I rented my tux, but you’ll have to pick out my pink bow tie. And shoes, Will. We don’t have prom shoes,” he said. His eyes had widened as he looked down at me, and I smirked.

  “We can wear our sneakers.”

  “No, we should go get shoes now.” He wasn’t going to be even a little bit original for this prom. At least I’d feel like this big mimic wearing a hideous magenta-colored dress to prom.

  “Hey…” I paused, as I backed a few inches away from him. I had an idea, but I was pretty sure it had been Kennedy’s all along.

  “Does your tux have ruffles? I’d be so happy if your tux had ruffles.”

  His lips meshed into this half-smile thing, and my mouth dropped when he nodded. I was excited about prom now.

  “I get it. I understand. And this is why you’re my best friend.”

  He laughed. “And we’re going to take prom pictures, Will. We’re going to slow dance, and your head is going to rest on my shoulder. I’ll have to bend my knees a little so your head can reach my shoulder, though. And we’re also not going to get laid. We’ll be just like everyone else.”

  We were going to prom to make fun of it and to do everything that’s typically done on prom night, and I wish I would have thought of it before Kennedy did.

  “Should I tease my hair to make it really tacky looking? What if I wore a bow in my hair, too, Kennedy? And…” I paused, thinking. “Oh, and please tell me you got me a gigantic corsage, Kennedy. That would be so awesome.”

  He grinned. “It was supposed to be a surprise, Will, but you’re way too smart for my little surprises. You figure everything out,” he sighed.

  “We have to go get shoes now.” I dragged him by his hand, but he was willing to be dragged.

  We rode on our bikes to the closest shoe store in our small hometown in the pit of Tennessee. I hadn’t even taken the dress off, and I wore my Keds. Kennedy was wearing his Beatles T-shirt and a pair of long khaki cargo shorts, along with his high-top converse sneakers.

  After placing our bikes in the corral, we smiled before locking elbows as we walked in the shoe store together.

  “I have to get stilettos,” I whispered.

  “And they have to be shiny,” he told me.

  “And you have to get magenta-colored men’s shoes. It’s not fair for you to only have a pink bow tie. You need to look just as ridiculous as me,” I said, grinning up at him.

  I was so excited, because I knew Kennedy would let me dress him up. Even if he’d look ridiculous. We’d look ridiculous together.

  “If you can find magenta-colored shoes in the men’s section, that’d be great,” he chuckled.

  I was sure I’d find them.

  I found some clear stilettos that were shiny enough to blind someone, and Kennedy nodded in agreement when I looked to him for approval.

  I sat on the bench next to him before putting them on my feet. I held my feet out in front of me, and we stared at the heels in unison.

  “How will I walk in these, Kennedy?”

  “By standing,” he shrugged. “And maybe moving your feet step by step in front of you.”

  “I’d fall,” I groaned. I had never walked in heels before, and I hadn’t thought about that before coming here.

  “Hey, hold on a second,” he smiled. He got up from the bench, and kneeled to scan the various boxes of stiletto heels. He grabbed a box of heels that were a size thirteen, and he sighed as he looked over to me.

  “I don’t know what size I am in women’s, but this is the largest size I could find.”

  I grinned.

  He took his shoes and socks off, and placed them next to mine on the ground below us.

  “We can learn how to walk in heels together,” he said, as he took one of the yellow heels and successfully popped it on his left foot.

  I laughed as he popped the other one on his right foot, and held his feet out in front of him like I had done. “Very Pretty,” he said.

  He wouldn’t drink a milkshake through a straw, but he’d walk around wearing stiletto heels in a shoe store for me. He was a silly guy. He was my silly guy.

  We had gotten up from the bench together, hand in hand. My elbow was bent forward, and my hand was held up grasping his so it would be easier for us to stand.

  I was surprised we hadn’t lunged forward, and landed on our faces.

  “Ready?” he asked me.

  I nodded. “I think.”

  “That’s not ready, Will.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes Kennedy, I’m ready.”

  We took one small step forward, and the click of our heels made me smile.

  There was about another five feet in front of us when he said, “You go forward on your own now. I’ll be behind you to catch you if you fall.”

  I had let go of his hand, and he was standing behind me, now. I took a deep breath before taking a step forward.

  “Keep your legs straight, Will.”

  I smirked. “You keep your legs straight, Kennedy.”

  He coughed, and I hadn’t had to turn around to know that he’d noticed and fixed his slack posture.

  I had about two feet of room in front of me when I stopped and turned around to find Kennedy swirling his long arms around at his sides, about to fall backward.

  My eyes widened as I went to grab his hands, and I said, “I got you.”

  But I didn't have him. He fell backward, and I fell right on top of him. My hands were settled under his head so it wouldn’t crack open on the floor, and my body hit his body hard.

  He groaned longingly as his hands met my waist, and he pulled my skirt down so I wouldn’t be exposed.

  “Ow,” he muttered.

  “Ouch,” I said, as I buried my forehead in his neck.

  He chuckled lightly, and I met his eyes.

  Then we laughed out loud, because we were okay, and it was funny.

  August 21st, 2006, 3:51p.m.

  Willow

  “Put up your hair, and I’ll push you on the swings.”

  Annette stuck her lip out. “Why do I have to put my hair up?” she whined.

  I smiled. “Because you’ll fuss if your hair lands in your mouth, sweetie. Do you want to taste hairy shampoo?”

  She crinkled her little face as she shook her head vigorously. “No, mommy. Can aunt Catie put my hair up with her chopsticks? I really like aunt Catie’s chopsticks,” she grinned.

  I could see Caitlyn as she smiled over her computer screen. She was sitting at the picnic table just a few feet away from the swings, working on another article.

  “Come here, kid,” Caitlyn sighed, patting her lap as she swung her legs to the side.

  Annette let out a delighted squeal before running over to her. I placed my hands on my hips and smiled widely as I watched her hop on Caitlyn’s lap.

  “Don’t touch them, okay little
babe? If you want to keep them in, you have to leave them alone.”

  Annette nodded as Caitlyn took the chopsticks out of her shiny red hair, letting it all fall against the small of her back.

  “Hold still so I can put them in,” Caitlyn instructed sweetly.

  Annette said, “Okay,” and listened to her.

  Caitlyn easily wrapped Annette’s long dirty blonde hair into a tight bun on the top of her head, and then stuck the two chopsticks in the bun to keep it from falling out.

  “There.” Caitlyn smiled before patting Annette’s thigh so she’d hop down. Annette did as she was told.

  “Thank you, aunt Catie,” Annette said, before standing on the tips of her toes so she could loudly kiss Caitlyn on the cheek.

  “You’re very welcome, little babe,” Caitlyn smiled half-heartedly.

  Annette turned around on her heel and ran into my arms.

  I had kneeled on one knee before she got to me. I gently rubbed her back as the tips of her tiny fingers curled against my shoulder blades.

  “Isn’t it pretty, mommy?” she leaned back a little so I could see her vibrant smile, and her gorgeous blue eyes.

  I grinned, and nodded. “Very pretty, sweetie.”

  She hugged me again before sitting down in one of the swings.

  I pushed her, and she said higher every time.

  She wore a yellow sundress today with matching shoes, and she wore dresses a lot. I thought it was funny, because I’d never wear dresses when I was younger. Never in my life had I enjoyed wearing a dress or anything labeled as cute until I became an adult.

  I was a tomboy at its finest. My Annette wasn’t a tomboy at all, and I honestly loved that. She was a lot more open than I was, and she thought she was pretty. She was beautiful.

  I loved everything about my daughter, because she was hardly like me.

  She was confident, she was lively. She loved going to school, and she loved being a girl. She had long wavy hair, and she loved showing it off. I knew she’d be a heartbreaker one day.

  The only thing Annette and I really had in common was our love for the outdoors. We weren’t couch potatoes when it had been just me and her. On a day after work, if Annette was awake for it, we’d ride on our bikes and go to the park. It was just a few blocks away from our apartment. Caitlyn would go with us sometimes if she needed some outdoorsy scenery. Caitlyn would get sick of being cooped up in the apartment every once in a while, but she had always spent a lot of her time writing. She was a freelance journalist. She typically made more money than I did, because she was so dedicated to what she did for a living. Caitlyn always drove her car to the park, though, because she never traveled without her laptop.