Page 12 of Drifter’s Heart

For the first time in our two-year partnership, I don’t want it.

“I’ve seen it.” I offer a disinterested shrug.

“Pink glitter walls to the ceiling. Poles. The DJ changes nightly. None of this stale club culture. Oh, and have you seen the act for this weekend? There’s a new celebrity brought into town. B-listers and above only.” Eddie warms to his theme.

I nod, only half listening. The woman with the gray hair continues her shuffle. I swear I know that walk and that hair done up in its perfect French roll. Damn, I wish I could do hair like that. It’s a real lost art. “Sounds great.”

“Doesn’t it? And I bet⁠—”

“Stop the ambulance!” I yell.

“Jesus.” Eddie slams on the brakes with the reflexes of a frontline soldier. Those same reflexes save lives on a weekly basis, and I know what to expect from him.

My seat belt is off. I’m out of the ambulance and across the road before his second shout reaches me. I reach the shuffling woman, barely out of breath.

“Mrs. Cunningham? Hey. You’re out for a walk, huh?” I knew I recognized that face. Or, at least, her hair. “Mrs. Cunningham? June?” June Cunningham is a dementia patient who wanders in on a regular basis.

Mrs. Cunningham stares my way through a bleary, fixed gaze that doesn’t quite see me. “That’s a nice shirt you’re wearing, Mera. Be better if it was blue, to match your nice eyes.” She mixes me up with one of her four daughters, who don’t pay half as much attention to her as they should.

“I never could pick out an outfit the way you do. Those slippers are way too perfect,” I tell her. “And they look comfy as all get out. Plus that hair! You have a talent, Mrs. C. Now, where are you headed? I’ll give you a lift.” I guide her to the ambulance that Eddie has repositioned neatly next to us.

“No,” he mouths, shaking his head. Deft fingers tap at his watch. “Call it a day.”

I shrug, not caring about his social habits. “Come on, Mrs. C. You don’t want to get the fluffy bunnies dirty. I know you care about them.”

We look down at her blue slippers together, bearing fluffy bunny heads. One ear is sadly bent and a little dirty.

“Oh dear,” says Mrs. C. “Manny needs a wash.”

I don’t doubt that she’s named her slippers or that they’ll have different names by the time we arrive at the hospital. Thankfully it’s not a hard job to get her into the ambulance. I check her vitals, which she lets me do, and they’re clear, thankfully.

“Stay with me.” A bony hand grips mine as I turn to head up front.

“Of course.” I nod to Eddie, who shoots me a look, and I know I won’t escape a conversation later before we clock out. I pat her hand and wonder just how long it’s been since she had a solid meal. Well, we’ll fix that today. Maybe tomorrow too. “I’m right here, Mrs. C.”

Four hours later Eddie leans his back against the ambulance and glares at me. “Those are pretty slippers, Mrs. C,” he mimics. “How did you do your hair like that?”

“To be fair, both are a challenge, in her situation,” I protest. “Have you ever done a French roll? Not an easy job, my friend. And I’m not convinced she should be home alone at all. Even with Manny and Silky for company.”

Mrs. Cunningham was admitted after a few hours of good conversation in the ER waiting bay, a hydrating IV that she desperately needed, and a bowl of food that ended up flung across the ambulance bay. I mopped that up while we waited on her admission. But hey, someone will get food into her either today or tonight, or she won’t be going home. I just hope reception manages to reach her daughters.

My phone vibrates in my uniform pocket. I slide it out, praying Brad’s name won’t pop up on the screen. I’m forever traumatized by that man. Thankfully, my best friend’s name soothes me.

Cord wants to see Sally again. And I miss you. Can you come up this weekend?

Drive to Coyote? Let me check my schedule.

I remember a girl who never checked her schedule for anything. Or anyone. Remember Randy?

Oh boy. Do I ever. Wasn’t he the first one?

The first one you did that stupid “I love you” early thing with? Uh-huh. He was so enamored.

Oops. I mean, I did. For about five seconds. Literally. On that one night. Then it was over.

You broke his heart. RIP Randy of the one night. Be free. So, Sally?

Ah. Yes. Driving to Coyote.