The cocktail party was a week away, so when I had to work side by side with Dr. Styles before that, I wasn't sure how to act around him. Technically, nothing had changed. We were simply planning on attending a work function together. But still, inside I was acting like a squirrelly high schooler waiting for the big dance.

He was an expert at acting like nothing was different, even though he'd been in my apartment and he'd had his arms around me. Again, I knew things weren't really different, but at the same time, they were. I was driving myself crazy until he snapped me out of it. 

"Jansen! I ordered the Versed for that endoscopy almost an hour ago. Why haven't you started it yet?!"

I shook the fog out of my head and answered, "I apologize, Dr. Styles. I'm on it."

He stopped and stared down at me, speaking harshly, "Apologize to your patient, too. She's freaking out in there, and they're coming to get her for the procedure right now."

"Yes, sir," I nodded humbly. I deserved that correction, but why did he always have to be so severe with me in particular? 

Instead of snapping myself out of my delirium, I ended up making a few more mistakes that were noticed not only by the doctor, but by my co-workers, and one by Ms. Baxter, the director of nursing who had interviewed me. 

To make matters worse, I'd had an incredible lucky streak since I started working at CMI, a lucky streak that ended during this shift. Of all the patients I'd cared for, not one of them had died while under my direct care.

Until today.

A young Asian couple rushed in to the Emergency Department with a small child who was clearly in respiratory distress. They were frantically trying to communicate in broken English that the child had been coughing and wheezing as Dr. Styles and I, along with other team members whisked her away to begin treatment.

The tiny black-hair girl had terror in her eyes, struggling to scream and fight against us, but hardly able to make an effort. The area around her lips was blue, as were here fingers and pretty painted toe nails. The doctor had already cut away her shirt, and her chest was caving in with every breath she struggled to draw breath.

I was moving as fast as I could, but the she stopped breathing all together before I could even poke the needle into her vein for the IV. The doctor did emergency CPR while I froze for a moment in horror. "Ellie!" He yelled. "The IV now!" I did as I was told, but he stopped the CPR within a minute of barking out that harsh command.

She was gone. I still worked furiously at the IV, refusing to believe that she was dead, but when Dr. Styles' tired voice called out, "Time of death, 3:07 AM," my fingers slowly stopped fumbling with the needle. I stared up at the doctor him with wide eyes, wishing he was wrong. But I knew he wasn't.

He paged an intern who spoke Vietnamese to come with him to talk to the parents. He wanted to be sure that they understood what had happened, and that he would be able to answer any questions. Before he left to talk to them, he said something dreadful. "Ms. Jansen, I'd like you to come with me as well."

I blindly obeyed, having no ability to speak whatsoever. I watched the curls of his hair bouncing over the edges of his white coat, needing something to focus on. He calmly beckoned the distraught parents to follow us back to a private office. He closed the door and carefully broke the news to them that their daughter had passed away. The husband and wife collapsed into each other, crying out heartbreaking wails of grief for their child.

Dr. Styles' voice had cracked when he spoke. As he stood there and observed the terrible mourning that his news had caused, I only glanced briefly and noticed that his eyes were cloudy. I had to look away. I was so close to losing it myself that if Dr. Styles let on how much he was hurting, I couldn't have stopped myself at all.

Time seemed to stop as we stood and waited for the parents to calm down enough to be able to bring them in to see their daughter. Dr. Styles must have sensed that I'd had enough for one day because he dismissed me to continue caring for my other patients. 

As occasionally happened in the department with such a heartbreaking loss, all of us walked around in a daze, choking back tears and occasionally meeting each other's glances with unspoken grief. It was part of our job and we all knew it, but it never made it easy, especially when we lost someone so young.

I had to work so hard to not lose it with my other patients, pasting on a false, overly cheerful face and focusing on the job at hand so that I didn't accidentally mess up someone's treatment. One death on my shift was already more than I could handle.

After rounding once, Tammy came and told me to take a break. She was now training to be a charge nurse, and I was happy to be able to work with her again. I went and sat in the staff lounge and laid my head back against cushy pillow of an overstuffed chair. I kept telling myself that it was bound to happen. We couldn't save everyone. Death was a part of life. All of that bullshit we taught ourselves to remember when we first entered nursing school. Little it did for me in the moment.

A thought sprinted through my mind. What if I couldn't handle this part of the job? What if I couldn't handle death? My career would be over. I was a full-blooded optimist, but all of my positive thinking couldn't make the reality of death go away.

I wished I'd have the opportunity to go home early, but I knew I was needed on the floor. These were the times when it was really hard to keep going. I got a drink and ate a small snack and then gave myself a pep talk in the mirror. 

I didn't notice him until Dr. Styles came in silently and stood directly behind me. "You did a great job of holding it together," he said, his face stoic.

"Why did you make me do that?" I whispered bitterly. "It's not my job to tell parents that their baby is dead!" I choked on the last word, but vowed that I wasn't going to cry, especially now that the doctor had commended me.

"It's all part of the job," he said. "And I just wanted you to know that you did everything right – we all did – the parents just waited too long to bring her in."

I swallowed hard and nodded. "I know," I said in a gravelly whisper. Then I left Dr. Styles alone in the lounge to process his own feelings.

When the shift was finally over, I was drained. I was heading out the side door, closest to where I would usually flag down a cab, but then I decided to walk for a while. I doubted that I would make it all the way to my new place. It was further away than my old one, and I didn't have much energy left. But I needed the warm, fresh air for a while. I needed something that didn't smell like the hospital. I walked a few blocks and then ducked into a small coffee shop.

"Can I get a small caramel cappuccino?" I said to the barista. He smiled and flashed some amazing blue eyes at me, enough to bring a smile to my own face.

I was standing at the end of the counter, waiting for my coffee when Dr. Styles walked in. He saw me immediately and forced a small smile in greeting.

I took my cappuccino and sat in the far corner of the cafe. A few steamy sips had passed my lips when the doctor walked over with his coffee and asked, "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," I replied. It was nice that he was here, but I wasn't really in the mood for conversation.

We sat in silence for a while, and then he said, "Tough shift, huh?"

I shrugged, trying to act like it didn't affect me as deeply as it did. "Yeah, I suppose."

He reached across the table and grabbed my hand, giving it a light squeeze and then dropping it. "It gets easier, I promise."

"Yeah," I responded, not wanting to put more effort into speaking. "I think I'm going to get going. I'm pretty tired."

"You can ride with me," he said, standing up to walk out with me. He opened the glass door at the front of the shop and allowed me to exit first.

"I'll be okay," I insisted. 

"Ellie," he countered, "it's over two miles away, and you just worked a 12-hour shift."

"I don't want to put you out..." I said, slowly giving in.

He laughed loudly, which startled me. "We live in the same building; how could you possibly be putting me out?"

I relaxed and started laughing too, releasing some of my stress. "I guess you're right," I said, shaking my head.

When we pulled into the parking garage of our building, he killed the engine but I didn't make a move to get out just yet. 

"Seriously, Dr. Styles. Why did you make me come with you to talk to the parents?" I asked again.

He was silent for such a long time that I thought maybe he just wasn't going to answer. Finally, without looking at me, he said, "I guess I just wanted you there."

* * * * *

How's everyone doing? This is the worst part of the year for me - I love the snow (what little we've had in Michigan), but seasonal depression is kicking my ass! lol 

Hope you're enjoying the story - next chapter is the cocktail party ;)