Chapter 6 - A Cold Serving
A month after the divorce was finalized, I was covering an evening shift in the Surgical Intensive Care Unit at Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
The unit was quiet for once. The rhythmic clicking of ventilators and the soft humming of intravenous pumps created a peaceful atmosphere. I sat at the central nursing station, reviewing a post-operative chart for a coronary artery bypass patient I had operated on earlier that morning.
"Dr. Turner?"
I looked up.
Standing on the other side of the counter was Khloe Mercer.
She looked entirely different from the night I had seen her at Mercy Memorial. She was dressed in a plain, faded denim jacket and black leggings. Her long hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and she held a cheap paper application folder in her hands.
She looked small, anxious, and deeply out of place in the high-tech, pristine environment of the SICU.
"Miss Mercer," I said, setting my pen down, my voice entirely devoid of emotion. "You're outside of visiting hours."
"I'm... I'm not here to visit anyone, Dr. Turner," Khloe stammered, her hands shaking as she clutched the folder. "I... I came to see you."
I raised an eyebrow. "I don't recall us having an appointment."
"I wanted to apologize," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper as two passing ICU nurses glanced at her. "I... I lost my job at Turner & Associates when the firm went under. Nobody in real estate will hire me because of the scandal. I'm... I'm behind on my rent. The landlord is evicting me from the River North apartment next week."
I sat back in my chair, folding my hands over my lab coat. "And why are you telling me this?"
"I didn't know he was stealing from you!" she cried out softly, tears spilling down her face. "He told me he was rich! He told me he owned that real estate company outright! He told me his wife was just a cold, heartless woman who didn't care about him! I was stupid... I was twenty-two and I believed him!"
"You were old enough to know that sleeping with a married man in an apartment he paid for was wrong, Miss Mercer," I said coldly. "And you were certainly old enough to know that wearing another woman's clothes was an insult."
Khloe lowered her head, sobbing quietly. "I know... I know. I'm so sorry. I left all those clothes in a box at the apartment. I didn't keep anything."
She slid the cheap paper folder across the counter toward me.
"What is this?" I asked.
"It's an application for the hospital’s records department," Khloe whimpered. "I applied for an entry-level clerical job here. They told me... they told me the department head requires a sign-off from the attending surgical staff for clearance because it involves confidential patient data."
She looked at me with desperate, pleading eyes. "Please, Dr. Turner. I have no money left. My parents in Indiana won't talk to me. If I don't get this job, I'll be on the street. Please don't block my application."
I looked down at the paper application, then looked back at the young woman standing before me.
Three months ago, she had been preening in my navy silk pajamas, living off forged loan money, feeling superior to the "clerical wife" Nate had described to her. Now, she was begging that same wife for a clerical job just to pay for cheap food.
I picked up my pen.
I didn't tear up the paper. I didn't shout at her.
I simply pulled the application toward me and signed my name on the clearance line.
Khloe gasped, her eyes widening in total shock. "You... you signed it?"
"I signed it because I am a physician, Miss Mercer," I said, sliding the folder back to her. "My life is dedicated to preserving life and giving people a chance to recover from fatal mistakes. You made a terrible mistake. Now you are going to work forty hours a week in a basement office filing charts for minimum wage to rebuild your life."
Tears streamed down Khloe's face, but this time they were tears of overwhelming relief. "Thank you... thank you, Dr. Turner... I don't know what to say—"
May you like
"Say nothing," I cut her off smoothly, picking up my chart again. "And if you ever enter my ICU wearing silk, I will have security escort you from the building. Have a good evening."
Khloe nodded frantically, clutching the folder to her chest like a lifeline, and backed away down the corridor.
