“It’s just a figment of your addled and sleep-deprived brain. Go make Mrs. Markus happy and see if her mole turns blue.”
Low Blood Sugar
Back in the E.R. cubicle, Amy watched in amusement as Jordan tried to put on the green scrub top with only one hand. So far, she had her injured hand through one of the shirt's armholes and her head sticking out the other. She was attempting to worm her way out of the mess, but wasn't having much success. Unless she was trying for a straightjacket effect in which case she was having terrific success.
"Alittlehelphere?" Jordan mumbled with her mouth full of shirt.
Amy gently pulled the scrub top over Jordan's head and then not-so-gently pushed her head back through the proper hole.
"Thanks, Doc," Jordan said. "Usually people are trying to get me out of my clothes, not put me in them."
There was a split-second where Amy was shocked. Then she quickly covered her expression and smiled in an overly polite way. The blood pounded in her ears. She knew if she were to take her own pulse right now it would be racing.
"Whoops," Jordan said, "TMI. Maybe you can test me for Asperger's while I'm here. I'm not good in social situations. That's what my Pre-K teacher wrote on my first report card. That and 'if she doesn't stop licking the other students she will be expelled.'"
Amy's mouth literally dropped open. “Did you say licking?”
"I liked to pretend I was a puppy," Jordan explained. “I got over it by second grade when I finally realized licking friends was not socially acceptable."
Amy laughed and looked away. She found it hard to hold Jordan's gaze for any longer than three seconds. She didn't know why except that it was so… intense. She gathered her surgical implements on a tray and pulled out a pair of latex gloves from the cardboard box. "Are you wearing a wedding ring?" She snapped the gloves about five times too many.
"Wedding ring?" Jordan asked.
"Any rings? Any kind of jewelry?"
Jordan smiled coyly. "Are you trying to find out if I'm available?"
Amy blushed. She could feel Jordan scrutinizing her. It was pleasant and unpleasant at the same time. Which was kind of like eating ice cream when you had a sore throat. It felt both good (ice cream) and bad (sore throat).
Amy squirmed in her chair and said, "I'm going to have to cut close and I don't want the scissors to get caught on your ring." She added, "If you had one."
"I don't. So, Doc, are you married?”
Amy slipped the scissors under the first layer of duct tape. "No, I'm not married."
"Haven't found the right person?"
"Something like that." Amy noticed that she had said 'person' not 'man.' If she wasn't mistaken, Jordan was flirting with her. But maybe she was wrong. She didn't get flirted with often and never had a woman flirted with her, so she was no expert. The only flirting she'd ever witnessed between two women was in that movie about the fried green tomatoes, and even that had to be pointed out to her. (By her mother of all people.)
She began to cut at the duct tape. "This may pinch a little."
Jordan winced.
Amy asked, "What about you? Does someone like you have a sweetheart?" She could kick herself. Sweetheart? What kind of word was that? What was she, raised in the 1950s? What was next? She was going to talk about sock hops and poodle skirts?
"What do you mean, someone like me?" Jordan asked. "Am I that un-presentable? I knew I should have brushed my hair before I came to the emergency room. My mother always used to tell me to wear clean underwear all the time in case I got in an accident. I never understood that line of logic. I mean, if I was in an accident I'd probably mess my pants so what would the underwear have mattered in the first place?"
Amy had a sudden flash of what Jordan would look like in underwear. What kind of underwear were they? Red and lacy? White and cotton? You could tell a lot about a person by their underwear. What was wrong with her brain today? It kept taking these weird erotic turns. Must be a lack of caffeine. Or maybe too much caffeine.
Amy said, "I just meant someone like you who is so… attractive. I meant you must have a lot of admirers." Admirers? Did she really just say that? My God, she was turning into her grandmother who always asked her about 'gentleman callers.'"
"Well, thanks for the compliment. But you see that's the problem. I seem, through no fault of my own I guarantee you, to bring out the worst in my girlfriends."
Girlfriends, Amy thought. So she was gay. Her blood pressure spiked and her heart picked up in tempo. The only bothersome part was that she had used the word 'girlfriends', as in the plural sense. Of course, Jordan was so beautiful she had her pick of women. She could have oodles of women on the line. God, did she really just think the word 'oodles’?
Amy finally managed to unwrap the hand. "In what way do you bring out the worst?" She got up and put together a sterile bath for the hand.
"Most of them turn into a combination of Medusa and a green-eyed monster."
Amy looked puzzled.
"Jealous. And if I'm with someone I don't cheat. Sometimes I think I must be the only lesbian left on the planet who believes in monogamy."
Amy nodded. She knew exactly how Jordan felt. Her love life hadn’t exactly been a stunning success. She’d had Nick who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants, and Joe who had been overbearing and jealous, and now she had Chad who played the egotistical ass. Yup, her love life definitely sucked as well.
Jordan asked, "Can I ask you a question?"
God, here it comes, Amy thought. She's going to ask if I'm a lesbian and I'll have to say no and then she'll stop flirting or whatever it is she's doing just when I was beginning to enjoy it.
"Sure," Amy said, sounding not so sure.
"Why'd you become a doctor?"
Okay, so she was wrong about the question. While she formulated her answer, she turned to Jordan and flicked the needle of painkiller. Jordan looked at the needle and paled.
"Needles?"
Jordan nodded.
Then Amy did something she'd never done before. Something she had never even thought of before. Something that this time yesterday she would never ever have done. She pushed her coat and her scrub top off her shoulder and showed Jordan her tattoo. "I don't like needles either. But I sucked it up long enough to get this tattoo. It's my one claim to adventure."
"Beautiful," Jordan said. And when Amy looked up Jordan wasn't looking at the tattoo.
Amy blushed and turned her back to her. She held Jordan's hand under her arm and began to inject the painkiller into the wound but where Jordan couldn't see what was happening. "You just keep your eyes on my tattoo. I'll be done with this before you even know it."
Jordan's eyes lingered on Amy’s shoulder. The tattoo was a solid blue. Not green like old school tats, but a deep almost purple blue. It was the caduceus, the medical symbol, complete with snakes climbing the pole. It was an artist's version, though, and as Jordan stared at it, it seemed to be almost three-D. It was eerie and mesmerizing at the same time.
Jordan reached out and lightly touched the tattoo with her finger. "I wouldn't think someone like you would have a tattoo.”
"Someone like me?"
"Someone so smart and beautiful."
Amy was silent. She was stunned that she had actually been called beautiful. She finished with the needle, but kept her back to Jordan. She didn't want to see those eyes looking at her. She needed to regain her composure. Finally, she took three deep breaths, stood and tossed the needle into the biohazard can.
When she turned around, Jordan was staring at her. Her eyes roamed over Amy's face and lingered on her exposed shoulder.