ALL NOVEL 8. Dr. Ebony Rhodes
A fat, half-lidded, orange and black striped cat printed on the mug stood holding a steaming cup of coffee.
It hated Mondays.
The office had enough room for a desk, a computer, a file cabinet but it was still a private office with a door she could lock. The glare of the florescent overhead lighting was a little much for her so she had a table lamp next to the radio on her filing cabinet.
A soft voice played on the radio: Thank you for listening to national public radio. Programs like The Strings of Niccolo Paganini would not be possible without the generous support of our sponsors and viewers like you.
Ebony sipped her coffee and took a moment to unwind as she leaned back in her chair and listened to the strings. Nothing soothed her more. She clenched her darkened heavy eyelids and began to slump in her chair before the coffee was back on her desk.
A knock stirred her and prevented a spill. As she rose from her chair, she ran a pick through her short, curled hair. A cough cleared her throat. The sleeping bag was kicked into the space under her desk she reserved for it as she grabbed one of the patient files in the standing folder tray before she pressed the door unlock button.
“Come in,” she called.
The door opened quietly as an older woman in a suit dress with low heels entered the office. The lapel read: Marcia Guttierez Hospital Administrator. Ebony’s eyes widened slightly as she tried to keep a serious composure. Fingers tensed around the clipboard.
“I wanted to stop by and check on you. Jennifer from human resources is worried. You haven’t taken a day for self-care in over a month and you’re looking noticeably tired.”
“Well, regardless of how I look, I am at full competence. We’re understaffed and people need help. I can assure you that I am eating healthy, exercising, and getting enough sleep. My performance won’t suffer.”
A gentle hand rubbed Ebony’s upper arm, “You came into the office at three AM. You used the sleeping bag again, didn’t you?”
“It’s not a regular occurrence and I can manage it. I’m fine.”
“You’re one of the best and brightest general practitioners I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with and you are essential to the smooth operation of our ER.
But you are not super woman, we’ll need to limit the number of patients per day regardless of the crowds. And because your primarily responsibility is with us, no more volunteering at the clinic three nights of week. We’re going to ask that you limit yourself to five hours a week there.”
“I have patients who need me, they have no insurance and nowhere else to go.”
“Precisely why you need to take care of yourself. We can’t afford to lose you.”
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This would be her last consultation for the day, as going against the directive after a visit from the administrator would not sit well. The patient, a teenage girl with black hair in long tight braids, sat on the medical bed with their right leg elevated and straight out. The X-rays had already been completed. Ebony had already seen the diagnostics so she went straight to the patient.
“Good evening young lady, how are you doing today?” she asked with a warm smile.
“Not well, I can’t hardly walk after gym class today.”
“Understood, any medications, over the counter drugs, allergies or otherwise?” she asked, double checking the paper work.
“No, mam.”
“Well Deidra, you have yourself a hairline fracture so I’d recommend you skip running around on it for a couple of months. We’re going to have a specialist make sure its nice and set and then get you splinted.”
“No cast?”
“That depends on how things look in about a week from now. If there’s no swelling and you keep it straight, we’ll consider a cast. But most likely you won’t need one.”
The girl looked down, disappointed, “Then what are my friends going to sign?”
Ebony laughed as she made her exit, “Your get-well card of course!”
Her posture slumped. Not this again. This was the last thing she needed. Green and red swirls swam in sometimes blurring vision as the world around her took on a surreal monochromatic tone. One of the nurses walked by and she straightened her posture quickly, even puffing up a bit to show how strong she was.
She’d consulted with twenty-five ER patients today and completed their paperwork without error. There was no problem. Not a single patient more, even though the ER was stacked and few more consultations with some of the throat scratchers and band-aid requestors would have greatly reduced the overflow. Not a single patient more.
In all honesty, she realized she was at her limit. Ebony needed a full eight hours, maybe nine or ten, of decent sleep. The task of making it back to her office remained. She tried desperately to put on a strong front, puff out her chest and make it back to her office before she collapsed.
Beautiful music reached her ears. Someone played the violin in this hospital of all places? Who in their right mind had time for that? Oh, perhaps she left the door to her office open.
No, wait. Her office was on the second floor and this was the ground floor. She swore someone was playing A Winter Night In Boston by Damien Escobar. It wasn’t a perfect rendition of his style, more like a sadistically inclined AI attempting to copy the piece as there was something slightly off-putting about the playing that Ebony couldn’t put her finger on. And yet, it still remained coldly beautiful.
The music became stronger as she approached the double doors leading to the chamber of the MRI. Somebody must have requested that music for their scan. Did it have to be so loud that it echoed throughout the whole hospital? Come to think of it, where was everybody? Had the music issue caused a fuss? Even the door had been propped open and that certainly was forbidden.
All the doors were open and nobody stood posted, not even a technician. Yet music flowed to her ears from the MRI. Ebony could recognize the difference between live instrumental and a recording.
Sure enough, a girl in a nurse’s outfit stood beside the MRI machine. The giant donut-like device loomed over her as she tilted her head to play one of Ebony’s favorite violinists. This strange nurse wore a tight and shortcut outfit more appropriate for a Halloween costume party than a professional hospital setting.
The costume horns, a spaded tail resting on the floor, flowing white wig, pretty much confirmed this had to be a big joke at her expense. Slow clapping filled the room as Ebony's hands slapped together.
“I don’t know who paid you for this stunt, but when I leave this room they’re out of a job and you’ll be talking to the police.”
Azoria continued to play, “No worries, if this violin had anything magnetic would I be able to play it in here?”
“Out! Get out!”
Azoria continued to play. This time she switched to a piece by Stravinsky. The MRI complimented the composition with oddly time shudders and resonating hums. Ebony pointed to the door. The young women kept playing, twirling around the room while running the bow across the strings.
Some discordant notes were struck on purpose. Playing Stravinsky was bad enough, playing Stravinsky off key was absolutely ear splitting. Too tired to think straight, Ebony walked in front of the MRI to slap the violin right off the girl’s shoulder and send it tumbling to the floor where it cracked in two pieces.
The broken violin still played soft, discordant, random notes.
“Aww, you broke it…”
Ebony used her deepest, most booming, most authoritative voice, “Young lady, you will come with me right this minute or so help me I swear I will drag you out!”
The same voice she used with her teenage son.
Azoria swung around and put her slender ivory hands over Ebony’s shoulders before sliding them down her arms until they were holding hands. The spaded tail raised in the air as Azoria raised the doctor’s hands. Eyes glowed a demon coal red.
“How about you play a game with me instead?”
“ENOUGH!” Ebony shouted at the top of her now cracking, tired, voice.
“So grumpy,” Azoria puffed out her cheeks as she frowned, “I know, before we play, you should definitely go to bed.”
shik... shik.. shik. shik
The music stopped as Azoria vanished. The broken violin disintegrated into magnetic static. Only the rumbling hum of the MRI machine continued in the spacious cold room. That wasn’t the only music. The rattling of a hospital bed grew louder with a shifting sound of turning wheels. Not an unusual sound in a hospital.
SHIK, SHIK! SHIK! SHIK! SHIK!
Ebony rubbed her temple and looked around to get her bearings. The hospital bed lifted off it’s wheels and went airborne. It flew directly into her right shoulder, then shoved her forcefully into the MRI entrance. Her neck twisted, then snapped. Legs crunched. The crash echoed through the entire hospital ground floor as the MRI began to slowly compact the bloody bed towards the hungry magnet.