This takes place after Carter's son dies. The majority of the italics are characters' thoughts. And I am thinking of putting part of a song at the end of random chapters (also in italics). I am not yet done with it, so there may be large time gaps between my chapters. Let me know what you think!
Chapter 1: Vegetable Oil and Flashlights
"Please tell me that it's been a quite day," Susan Lewis said as she wrapped her stethoscope around her neck. It was her first shift back since her maternity leave and all she wanted was an easy day.
"You're in luck." Susan looked at the new Dr. Abigail Lockhart. Ever since she passed her boards there was an air of confidence around her. "It's been pretty slow."
The two women walked around as Abby presented the current patients. "It's mostly been small things. No traumas since I've been on."
"Oh, don't jinx it for me. I'm on for twelve hours." Susan paused and then said, "Wait, no traumas? Is that possible?"
Abby shrugged and continued, "There's a head lac in one. In two there are a couple of kids with food poisoning; it doesn't seem serious though. And this," they stepped into Exam Room Three, "is Mr. Henry." He was a middle aged, balding man, who was sitting in the middle of the hospital bed and twiddling his thumbs.
Susan sniffed the air and asked, "Is someone cooking something?"
"We're waiting for a psych consult," Abby responded.
"What did he do? And what the hell is that smell?" Susan asked, scrunching up her nose.
"Mr. Henry came in complaining of a migraine. He wandered away and we found him by the charts, covered in vegetable oil and trying to set himself on fire with a flashlight. Isn't that right, Mr. Henry?"
"They told me to," the patient replied.
"Oh," Abby continued, "and aliens are controlling his thoughts." She rolled her eyes and they walked out of the room. Abby continued, "And watch out by charts. Housekeeping hasn't cleaned up the oil yet."
The women stopped at curtain area two, and while Susan checked a chart, she asked, "Do you know how Carter's been? I haven't talked to him since before it happened." Ever since Carter and Kem had lost their child, everyone in the ER referred to the event as the understood 'it.'
"You know," Abby replied, "I'm surprised at how well he's been holding up. It's been a few months since the baby died. When it happened I was so scared that he would fall apart, but he didn't. He and Kem," she cringed at that name, "have been keeping each other strong."
Just then they heard a clatter and turned to look. Right past the admit desk, Carter had accidentally knocked over a tray.
"Speak of the Devil," Abby muttered under her breath.
"Hey Carter," Susan called out. Then to Abby she said, "I didn't think he was on with me."
"He isn't supposed to be. Oh, no."
"What?"
"He's coming this way, heading straight for the oil. And I think he's drunk." A sound of disappointment escaped from her mouth.
"Drunk?" Susan looked from Abby to Carter and had just enough time to call out, "Carter, watch out for the oil!"
But Carter didn't hear . . . or didn't stop fast enough. The next thing the women saw was Carter's feet flying above his head and him landing flat on his back in the 'oil spill.' They ran the dozen steps to check on him.
"Carter?" Susan was trying not to laugh but a chuckle found its way out. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." He tried to stand but his feel slid out from under him again.
"Okay," Susan said, "Abby let's help him up." They each took a hand and Susan gently stepped on the toes of his shoes to prevent him from slipping again. As he popped up from the floor, the momentum he acquired made him practically fall into Susan.
She turned her head and scrunched up her face as she said, "Yeah, he's drunk. You could light his breath on fire. Abby you're off. I can handle him."
"No, I want to help." Abby replied. Susan distinctly saw a look of worry in her eyes.
"Okay, let's get him to a room before Weaver sees him." With one of Carter's arms wrapped around each of their shoulders, they slowly made there way to the empty Exam Room Two. Along the way Susan asked Haleh to help them and the nurse quickly agreed. Once inside they laid Carter down on the gurney.
"Haleh," Susan asked, "could you start him on the Ross treatment?" Haleh nodded and proceeded to set up.
Abby looked confused and asked, "What's the Ross treatment? I've never heard of that."
Suddenly Carter propped himself up on his elbows and responded, "Also known as the Doug Ross treatment. It was before your time, Abby—."
"I'm older than you, John."
"Your time down here," he corrected as he flopped back down. "Dr. Ross would come in drunk before shifts and we would sober him up."
As Susan checked Carter's pulse she said, "Yeah, well we don't need another Dr. Ross around here. Carter, how much did you have to drink?"
"I don't know. A half bottle maybe."
"A half bottle of what?"
It took Carter a couple of seconds to process each question. "Vodka."
Susan looked at Haleh and said, "Get a blood alcohol level too, please."
Now Abby, who had been in back, stepped forward. "Carter?" He was in his own little world, chuckling at the ceiling. She continued, "John, you know you shouldn't be drinking." She was trying to be gentle. She knew something has happened.
He finally looked at her and said, "Awe, come on Abby. Have a little fun." His words were slurring.
"Ah," she laughed, "I already did. That's why it took this long to finish med school. John, what happened?"
He sighed. The fluids they were giving him were already working. But that question sobered him the rest of the way. "She left me."
He hadn't said it quietly but all three women looked at him and asked, "What?"
Abby turned to Haleh and, in more of a command than a question, said, "Could you give up a minute?"
"Sure," the nurse said and left the room.
With Abby in the bedside chair and Susan sitting on the edge of the bed, Carter repeated, "She left me . . . a few hours ago she moved to a hotel until she can move all her things out. Then she's going back to Africa."
"Did something happen?" Susan asked.
"You could say that. I proposed."
Abby's heart sank at his last two words. It was supposed to be her, not Kem. But it had been her, and she had said no.
Susan was shocked, "You proposed?"
"Yeah. She said no. It's just my luck I guess." He looked at Abby but quickly looked away when their eyes met. Twice rejected for marriage.
"I'm sorry, Carter," Susan said.
"Thanks." He changed the subject. "I need to sleep before my shift." And his eyes were closed.
Once Abby and Susan were outside the room, Susan said, "Can you believe she said no?"
Abby glared at her.
Susan stumbled on her words, "No, no, I mean, it was different for them. They had a child together."
"But they never really had him, did they?"
"Still . . ." They made their way to the lounge.
"Yeah, I know." After getting her purse Abby asked, "Could you do me a favor?"
"Sure, what is it?" Susan asked, already involved in some paperwork.
"Could you get a tox screen for him, too?"
Susan quickly jerked her head up to look at her friend. "You don't think—?"
"I don't know. He's pretty upset. He was upset enough to down half a bottle of vodka."
Susan sighed, "But drinking is different than . . . you know. Plus, he knows better."
"He knew better the first time too." And it's not that different, Abby thought.
"Okay," Susan nodded. "I'll do the test."
"Thanks. Call me if it's positive." And Abby ran out the door.
"God, Carter," Susan said aloud to herself. "I hope, for your sake, that you didn't do anything stupid."
Alcohol, my permanent accessory
Alcohol, a party-time necessity
Alchool, alternative to feeling like yourself
O Alcohol, I still drink to your health
I love you more than I did the week before
I discovered alcohol
I thought that Alcohol was just for those with
nothing else to do
I thought that drinking just to get drunk
was a waste of precious booze
But now I know that there's a time
and there's a place where I can choose
To walk the fine line between
self-control and self-abuse
I love you more than I did the week before
I discovered alcohol
Would you please ignore that you
found me on the floor
Trying on your camisole?
O Alcohol, would you please forgive me?
For while I cannot love myself
I'll use something else.
Would you please forgive me
Would you please forgive me
lyrics by The Barenaked Ladies
let me know what you think. DMJ.