to volunteer for all sorts of things; she
must
be bored. Even Laura herself didn’t perceive herself as taxed to the limit; her sense of work ethic/guilt clouded her view.
Doug, however, realized his wife frequently bit off more than she could chew, and sometimes he and the kids got caught in the crossfire. Their lives seemed to be an endless array of activities centered around the three children. There were constant soccer/baseball/swim team practices and games, homework, science fair projects, piano lessons, cub scouts, etc. Laura orchestrated the scheduling of all these activities with a precision the Pentagon would have been proud of. Doug plugged into the scheme of things whenever he was available. Their conversations consisted mostly of planning the logistics of the busy evening or weekend. Minor concerns were often left unaddressed until they became unbearable and blossomed into full-fledged shouting matches.
Doug was startled out of his introspection by a voice and a blur of blond hair coming from the Stairmaster to his right.
“Hey, you come here too!” The voice and blond hair belonged to a surgical intensive care nurse at Mercy.
“Yeah, uh, you work at Mercy, don’t you?” Doug managed to get out. He was horrible with names. They both had to talk louder than Doug was comfortable with to be heard above WTPA, the heavy metal station cranked up on the gym’s sound system.
“Yep, I’m Jenny Stuart. I work in SICU. I just joined Gold’s a couple of weeks ago.”
“Hi, I’m Doug Landry. I work in anesthesia.”
“I know who you are. I was there the other night when you brought that ruptured triple-A in. That was some case!”
“I remember you now. You look, uh, sort of different,” Doug stammered.
God, she’s pretty!
“Different? Hmmm. Now there’s a compliment.”
“No, no. I mean your hair and all. I just didn’t recognize you, that’s all. You look great.” Doug felt himself blush, and they both laughed.
“How’s he doing?” Doug continued quickly, eager to get back on safer ground. “He was pretty sick when they brought him to us—no blood pressure—the typical abdominal aortic aneurysm. Bled like stink when they opened him.”
“He’s doing really well. In fact, he’s being transferred out tomorrow. You do good work, Doctor.” She punctuated this with a big smile as she gazed a bit too long into his eyes.
“We got pretty lucky with him. I didn’t think he was gonna make it there for awhile. Must’ve had good nursing care postop.” Doug smiled back and returned an equally long stare. He’d never seen her with her hair down or dressed in a tight gym suit before. She was slim, about five-foot-four, with shoulder-length blond hair and a body Demi Moore would have envied. He had trouble keeping his eyes on her face as they talked.
“So, how long have you been coming here?” she asked.
“Oh, a couple of years now. It’s a nice gym and right on the way home from the hospital.” Funny, he thought, her lips are so full. He never cared much for full lips, but suddenly found them irresistible.
“Where do you live?” she asked.
“Just down Route Thirty, three or four miles down the road in Heatherfield.”
“Which days do you usually come to the gym?”
“Kinda whenever I can. I try to get in two or three times a week, although I do come in pretty regular Friday nights after work.”
Why is she asking so many personal questions and why am I so willing to answer?
He felt sort of guilty talking to her just after he had been reminiscing about Laura, but the twenty-year-old fading memory couldn’t compete with the here and now in the flesh. Doug’s Stairmaster program was over again. He quickly punched in another ten minutes and adjusted it to Level One so he wouldn’t get too out of breath.
“I used to belong to a Gold’s in California,” she said. “They’re all over the place out there.”
“Yeah, you look like you’re pretty serious about your
must
be bored. Even Laura herself didn’t perceive herself as taxed to the limit; her sense of work ethic/guilt clouded her view.
Doug, however, realized his wife frequently bit off more than she could chew, and sometimes he and the kids got caught in the crossfire. Their lives seemed to be an endless array of activities centered around the three children. There were constant soccer/baseball/swim team practices and games, homework, science fair projects, piano lessons, cub scouts, etc. Laura orchestrated the scheduling of all these activities with a precision the Pentagon would have been proud of. Doug plugged into the scheme of things whenever he was available. Their conversations consisted mostly of planning the logistics of the busy evening or weekend. Minor concerns were often left unaddressed until they became unbearable and blossomed into full-fledged shouting matches.
Doug was startled out of his introspection by a voice and a blur of blond hair coming from the Stairmaster to his right.
“Hey, you come here too!” The voice and blond hair belonged to a surgical intensive care nurse at Mercy.
“Yeah, uh, you work at Mercy, don’t you?” Doug managed to get out. He was horrible with names. They both had to talk louder than Doug was comfortable with to be heard above WTPA, the heavy metal station cranked up on the gym’s sound system.
“Yep, I’m Jenny Stuart. I work in SICU. I just joined Gold’s a couple of weeks ago.”
“Hi, I’m Doug Landry. I work in anesthesia.”
“I know who you are. I was there the other night when you brought that ruptured triple-A in. That was some case!”
“I remember you now. You look, uh, sort of different,” Doug stammered.
God, she’s pretty!
“Different? Hmmm. Now there’s a compliment.”
“No, no. I mean your hair and all. I just didn’t recognize you, that’s all. You look great.” Doug felt himself blush, and they both laughed.
“How’s he doing?” Doug continued quickly, eager to get back on safer ground. “He was pretty sick when they brought him to us—no blood pressure—the typical abdominal aortic aneurysm. Bled like stink when they opened him.”
“He’s doing really well. In fact, he’s being transferred out tomorrow. You do good work, Doctor.” She punctuated this with a big smile as she gazed a bit too long into his eyes.
“We got pretty lucky with him. I didn’t think he was gonna make it there for awhile. Must’ve had good nursing care postop.” Doug smiled back and returned an equally long stare. He’d never seen her with her hair down or dressed in a tight gym suit before. She was slim, about five-foot-four, with shoulder-length blond hair and a body Demi Moore would have envied. He had trouble keeping his eyes on her face as they talked.
“So, how long have you been coming here?” she asked.
“Oh, a couple of years now. It’s a nice gym and right on the way home from the hospital.” Funny, he thought, her lips are so full. He never cared much for full lips, but suddenly found them irresistible.
“Where do you live?” she asked.
“Just down Route Thirty, three or four miles down the road in Heatherfield.”
“Which days do you usually come to the gym?”
“Kinda whenever I can. I try to get in two or three times a week, although I do come in pretty regular Friday nights after work.”
Why is she asking so many personal questions and why am I so willing to answer?
He felt sort of guilty talking to her just after he had been reminiscing about Laura, but the twenty-year-old fading memory couldn’t compete with the here and now in the flesh. Doug’s Stairmaster program was over again. He quickly punched in another ten minutes and adjusted it to Level One so he wouldn’t get too out of breath.
“I used to belong to a Gold’s in California,” she said. “They’re all over the place out there.”
“Yeah, you look like you’re pretty serious about your
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