Resuscitate My Love: Episode 4 – Critical Condition
DEION
I placed my badge against the door scanner and listened for the beep to turn the handle. The moment I walked through, it was like stepping into another world.
A stretch, but there was no other way to describe this part of Brooklyn Bay Medical Center.
It was just after 6:45, about fifteen minutes before I started the night shift. I yawned as I crossed the hall in slow, deliberate steps, headed to the Chief’s office.
This part of BBMC was quieter than down in The Pit. The Chief’s office was on a restricted-access floor, as it should be. This was the kind of quiet that was eerie to me… and my visit today definitely didn’t help.
When I got up from my sleep this afternoon after arriving home that morning, I saw a text on my phone from my attending, Dr. Malik Harlan. He’d summoned me to the Chief’s office before I started my shift today. Dr. Harlan was the acting chief while our Chief, Dr. Gannon Daniels, was on leave on vacation. Forced, if you let Dr. Daniels tell it.
I knocked on the door when I was close, and less than a second later, Dr. Harlan was there to open it and greet me.
“Greene,” he said, gesturing inside the office. “Come in.”
As soon as I walked in, I spotted accolades, a ton of family photos, and a framed and signed poster of the late Lennox Walker, a former Bronx Baller, and Dr. Daniels’ daughter’s friend and father of her children.
My cousin Bryant told me he and Lennox were really close when he was alive. Bryant still teared up a little when he mentioned Lennox.
“Glad you could make it up here before your shift,” Dr. Harlan said as he took a seat behind the desk and gestured once again at the chair opposite it.
He was gathering paperwork and moving it to the side when I said, “When the acting chief says he needs to meet with me before my shift, I don’t walk—I run.”
He snickered, then folded his hands over the desk. “Greene—”
“I apologize,” I said quickly. “I think I know what this is about. I’m sure you saw it… the kiss.”
A smirk pulled at the side of his mouth. “Yup. Right there in front of God and the nurses at Bed 3.”
I scoffed, then laughed, dropping my head a little.
“Look,” he said, regaining my attention. “I don’t know how they did things at LUMC, but at BBMC? We try not to give the patients a soap opera while they’re waiting on labs.”
I nodded.
“We have enough action happening as is.” He raised a brow, a smile still playing on his lips. “We don’t need more.”
Dr. Harlan was the perfect person to talk to about this because any other person would have probably put me on suspension or worse. I hadn’t been at BBMC long, but I knew that he was a respected attending—one of the few attendings who gets it.
He didn’t get the start many doctors I knew got. He grew up in public housing in Bed-Stuy, raised by a single mother. That was one of the first things some of the residents shared, then it was that he lost his fiancée during surgery years ago after she was involved in a car crash. They wouldn’t let him operate on her because of personal conflict of interest, and he almost quit medicine because of it.
But he didn’t, saying that he needed to be an example to his son, whom he co-parents with a woman, Giselle Freeman, who’s now working on a project with my cousin Bryant Greene.
The people talk a lot around here—gossip as frequently as they save lives—so I got all of this in one day. I just knew what happened earlier this morning would be the latest talk.
“It won’t happen again,” I promised, and added a nod for reassurance.
“If I can be honest, I’m surprised it happened at all.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’ve known Bishop since she started her residency here at BBMC after her clinical rotations at Columbia-Pres. When you got here, you two barely spoke to each other. So imagine my shock.”
Imagine mine too. But I had to do something.
I was dreading my mother’s arrival but still prayed she’d choose another hospital. No such luck.
I was standing in front of my patient’s room, going over their labs, and lifted my head only for a second when I saw my mother being wheeled down the hall by her assistant.
“I knew that was you,” my mother said, her smile so big I could see all of her teeth. “Look at my baby.”
It was one of those not-so-good days. I could tell by the amount of layers she had on and the low lids over her eyes.
I went to her though, smile fixed on my lips, lowering myself just enough to hug her.
The moment I stepped back, before I could say anything, she asked, “Where’s my girl? I got here a little earlier just so I wouldn’t miss her.”
“Uh—”
“Oh!” My mother gasped, her eyes looking past me and up a few feet at the front desk. “There she is. Whitney!”
My heart literally dropped out of my chest and hit the fucking floor.
When I turned to see Whit at a desktop, completely caught up in what she was doing to hear my mother, I swallowed hard.
“Beverly,” she said to her assistant. “We’re heading that way, dear.”
I panicked. Literally felt my pulse hammer against my veins. I’d been praying all damn day that Whit would leave a little early during her shift, but God wasn’t trying to listen to my ass, obviously. Because she was still here and my mother was headed her way.
So… I had to act fast.
“I’ll get her,” I said, quickly taking steps ahead of Beverly and my mother.
I power walked, watching as Whit lifted her attention, did a double take from a distance, grimacing before refocusing on the desktop’s screen.
“Shit,” I hissed to myself.
Not a good sign.
And it didn’t help my panicking. But I was all out of options.
The moment I was close, I didn’t leave anything to chance.
I told Whit, “Just go with it,” when I was close enough, and then I kissed her. Right there, in front of practically everyone. Feeling my pulse relax in a way I didn’t think was possible, given the situation. Feeling myself lose myself in the brief warmth of her lips on mine. And since I was there, in her space, pressed against her, it made no sense not to really be there in that moment. So I parted her lips… and she let me.
And now I couldn’t stop thinking about how soft her lips felt, or how easily she let me in. It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.
My mind had been trying to figure out why she’d let me do that. Because I sure as hell was expecting a slap, a shove away, something. I was willing to take a slap if necessary, too.
But nothing.
“We… umm…” I cleared my throat, grounding myself back in the Chief’s office across from Dr. Harlan. “Whit… Bishop, I mean, we met at Columbia-Pres. during our clinical rotations.”
“Ah, I see.” He kept his eyes locked on mine.
“We just have been keeping things private.”
Shit. Why the fuck did I just say that?!
“Hmm.” He nodded slowly, eyes still not moving off me.
I just knew he could smell the bullshit seeping through my pores. Dr. Harlan was tough, but fair—no nonsense, though. I could just feel him seeing through my words, but calling me out on it just wasn’t his style. I hadn’t known him long, only a few months, but even I knew he wasn’t one to embarrass residents. Not publicly or privately unless necessary.
He shrugged a shoulder. “Okay, then. You’ve been professional until now, and I like your work ethic, Greene. Let’s keep it clean.”
“Will do.” I forced a smile. “Like I said, it won’t happen a second time.”
“Then we’re good.” He held out a hand and I accepted, shaking it. “Get to work. I’ll see you down there.”
***
“All right,” I said, stepping out of my patient’s room, immediately turning to face my interns.
I’d just finished checking in on one of my patients who’d come in shortly after I started my shift, complaining of abdominal pain, and I suspected he may have elevated liver enzymes based on the color of his eyes. He needed tests, and that’s where my interns came in.
“Kim,” I said to my intern, Dr. Karen Kim, “follow up on the CT scan results. Barnes,” I said to the other, Dr. Kareem Barnes, “tomorrow, first thing in the morning, call Mr. Nunez’s primary care doctor for his medical history. I want to know everything from when he was prescribed his last medication to when he had his last cold. Morris…” I turned to my next and last intern, Solena Morris, “check in on Mr. Nunez in half an hour, assure him again that we are running tests, will check with his primary care doctor, and that I will check in on him tomorrow morning. But if he needs anything, to let the nurses page me.”
They all nodded their understanding.
I lowered my attention to my watch, noting the time—just after 9:30 p.m.
I told them, “Send me an update once labs are in.”
They nodded once again and verbally acknowledged the plan before I walked off.
So far tonight, it was looking like another quiet one. I hadn’t been at BBMC for long, but I knew, just like at LUMC, it was important to be grateful when a night was slow.
Nothing the interns couldn’t handle.
My interns were good. Competent. Much like LUMC, BBMC was a teaching hospital, which meant senior residents like myself often delegated tasks to medical students or interns, much like I’d just done, as part of our role in training younger clinicians and managing the workload.
I remember being one of them—working insane hours, sometimes getting disrespected and expected to do more than what I felt I was capable of doing. So many nights I wanted to quit medicine when I noticed how tough it was as just a damn intern. But I stuck it out, and maybe that’s one of the reasons I intentionally refrained from being an unnecessary hard-ass with mine.
I dipped my hand into my white coat just as I stepped into the on-call room. The second I glanced at my phone’s screen, I noticed a text from Alex, this woman I was seeing. She was a bartender at a bar I visited a month prior. It was nothing serious… just the way I liked it.
Alex: Busy?
I took a seat on the couch, leaning back to relax.
Me: Not at the moment.
Right now, things were casual, and thankfully Alex wasn’t pressing me for it to be anything more than that.
Again, just like I liked it.
I didn’t trust myself in intimate relationships. At first, at the start of any of them, they seemed good—great, even—but over time, they started to get serious, and to me, restrictive. Then came the anxiety and pressured situations that had me feeling too concerned about what I said and did.
I’d never had a girlfriend. Never needed to. And when things started to feel like commitment, somehow, I fucked it up.
Alex: Want to meet up for breakfast… and other things?
I released a breathy laugh, running my hands over my short locs, then down my fade.
And other things was sounding really good.
Especially since I still couldn’t get that kiss with Whit off my mind.
Every quiet moment I got in the last fifteen hours, my mind drifted back to that moment between us.
I swear the world quieted once I pressed my lips to hers. And when her body heat mended with mine, I wasn’t on this planet anymore.
I shook my head, squeezed my eyes, forced myself out of that reminisce.
Because I needed to stop that shit.
Whit was a good woman. And I wanted to keep her good.
I’d never had a girlfriend, but for the first time in my life—when Whit and I had whatever it was that we had years ago—I considered it.
I considered taking on the title of her man. Not her boyfriend, but her man. Someone who wanted something serious with her. Stable.
But… yeah, I fucked that up. Forced myself to talk to other girls, thinking if I just made it clear that what she wanted wasn’t what I wanted (which I did), she would just not see me like that and save herself.
But for real? I’ve been aching ever since…
Until that kiss.
I swallowed hard, sat up in my seat on the couch, and started typing out a message to Alex, letting her know that breakfast and other things was a go.
I was halfway through the message when a call came in.
From my mother.
And like all of her calls, my heart sank first, before I was answering by the second ring.
“Ma,” I said. “Everything’s okay?”
She snickered softly on the other end of my phone. “Deion, you have got to stop doing this.”
I relaxed the tension in my shoulders and allowed myself to lean back in my seat.
“Every time I call you, you have to stop sounding like you’re in a panic,” she added. “It just makes me panic.”
“I’m sorry,” I exhaled. “I’ll do better.”
If only it was that easy. Every phone call from her before I answered always felt so weighted, because I always felt like this would be the call. The one that told me something I really didn’t want to hear.
That she wasn’t well… or worse.
“But you have to stop calling me during my shift, Ma, because then I start thinking the worst.”
“Anyway…” She giggled this time. “It was so good seeing you earlier today.”
I let a small smile pull at my lips. I didn’t like the way she looked, like she was having one of them days, but it was good to see her too.
“It was good seeing you too, Ma.”
“It was even better seeing you and Whitney together.”
I unconsciously inhaled a calming breath. “Yeah.”
“She looks phenomenal,” she added. “Doesn’t she?”
I nodded to myself, licking my lips next. “She does.”
Phenomenal—as perfect of a description as it was—still didn’t express what Whit looked like these days.
“She changed her hair color,” my mother noted. “I remember her having this rich black hair. It’s this beautiful cinnamon now. It looks fantastic on her. When did she do that?”
“Recently,” I said, vaguely.
I remember when I first saw it. I did a double take and couldn’t take my eyes off her every time I saw her around.
Her new hair color made her skin glow, her eyes pop. Made me want to know what my fingers looked like tangled in her curls.
Made me feel all the things I shouldn’t be feeling.
And she made that clear when she glared at me—when I found myself captured by her beauty at the shift board. I was staring way too long, and she let me know I was.
So, I’ve kept my distance… until the kiss.
Thankfully, that was done now.
“I want you to bring her over here for dinner.”
That snatched me back into reality.
“Wh-what?” I sat up on the couch. “Who?”
“Whitney, silly,” my mother answered with a short laugh. “Who else could I have been speaking of?”
“Uh—”
“Nothing too big,” she interjected. “A small dinner at the mansion. Just us three, maybe four if your father can make it.”
He wouldn’t.
I couldn’t!
“The… um…” I was on my feet, finding it impossible to remain seated in that moment. “BBMC has been slammed, Ma. Patients pouring in these last few nights.”
What a fucking stretch.
“Whit’s been pulling back-to-back shifts—”
“Then it’s perfect,” my mother cut in again. “That means she needs to recharge, and that’s exactly what I have in mind for the dinner. She’ll get all the rest and recuperating here.”
My eyes collapsed closed, and I squeezed them so tight I saw colors with my eyes shut.
This could not be happening.
This couldn’t happen.
I was parting my lips to say just that—and to confess I lied, about everything.
But then my mother said, “It would mean the world to me, baby.”
I dropped my chin to my chest, removing the phone from my ear for a moment to catch a breath.
Like that would actually do something.
“You can be so persuasive with everything else when you want to be,” she teased, her voice muffled through my phone. “Do this one thing for your mama. Bring my girl over for dinner. It’s been too long since she’s been here, Deion.”
After forcing in a ragged-ass breath, I released the air, brought the phone back to my ear and said, “Okay, Ma. All right.”
“And when you two come out here,” she added, “please, baby, don’t put her on that motorcycle of yours. I hate that thing.”
I scoffed a laugh. “Whit loves it.”
Or at least… she used to love it.
“Well, I hate it. Please drive her up here instead. Please.”
My mother and I spoke for another minute or two before she let me go.
And that’s when the pacing started.
The on-call room was not big. A small desk with an old desktop sat in the corner, barely used unless someone needed to chart without interruption. A bunk bed, sink, and a couch rounded out the room. There was only enough space for me to pace the tight rectangle between the couch and the bunk beds—three steps one way, three steps back.
But shit, I had to do something.
Whit told me she would only uphold the lie that once—once—while my mother was in the hospital. And she did. Didn’t tell my mother I lied when she circled back after having her tests done. Whitney hugged my mother like the best pretend girlfriend she was, and I thought that was that.
But now this.
“Fuck,” I spat, running my hand down my face.
I don’t blame Whit for keeping her boundaries solid with me. She wasn’t wrong.
But damn, I was going to have to figure out how to get her to go back on her word.
I couldn’t let my mother down. Not now.
Whit deserved the best. She was a great woman. Too great, as confirmed yet again with that kiss. Even in shock, she was still the warm Whit I remembered.
Her warmth I’ve been trying to find in other women… always coming up short.
But those other women didn’t expect anything from me.
They didn’t desire a committed relationship like Whit did.
And because they didn’t desire it, I didn’t have to confront the fact that I just didn’t trust myself in relationships.
Too afraid of being like my dad.
A great guy. Great father. Charming husband… but always a disappointment.
Always apologizing to my mother for his mistakes with gifts and money.
I cared for Whit too much to not give what she expected.
But I also really needed her to do me this solid… one last time.
“Here goes everything,” I said, turning my phone over to unlock the screen. I navigated to my contacts, tapped the W I hadn’t touched in years.
Yes, I still had her number. Never deleted it.
Always stopped myself from calling or texting, knowing that what Whit wanted I couldn’t give.
So I did us both the courtesy of keeping my distance.
Not tonight, though.
Tonight, I needed her to show me all the mercy and the grace in the world.
And hopefully, she would.
Me: Hey Whit. Can we talk?
“Radiology update for Dr. Greene,” the page came through the on-call room door, pulling my attention back into the now. “Please check patient Nunez’s CT results.”
I dragged a hand over my face, the reminder of where I was—and what I was supposed to be doing—cutting through the silence.
I dropped my phone into the pocket of my white coat, inhaled a deep breath, and stepped out of the on-call room headed for my interns.
I had no idea how long I’d be waiting for a reply from Whit…
But I knew that once she sent one, I’d have to beg like my life depended on it for her to say yes.
And I was prepared to.
A New Episode Of Resuscitate My Love Will Be Posted And Sent On Monday, August 4th!
