Chapter 3

The next morning, Ron rolled over and stretched her arms. She opened her eyes and wasn't surprised to see that the other side of the bed was empty. It always was. With a loud yawn, she got up and dragged her feet down the hall. She was wearing a faded T-shirt and feminine sweat pants. Her hair was a mess but she was so tired she didn't care. Later, she sat on the counter in her kitchen and drank a fresh brewed cup of coffee. Its smelled lovely since she hadn't had time to make herself a cup in so long. She was also well rested, which was a first. Normally, Max kept her up half the night crying and whining. He was always sick so she had to buy his medicine and give him a dose every few hours or....
Come to think of it, she did have a long, deep sleep last night. She couldn't remember waking up once. Max didn't cry or whine last night or even this morning which was usually when he cried the most. Ron dropped her mug on the counter, not caring as the coffee splattered everywhere.
She ran to Max's nursery and looked into his crib. He was completely quiet. She could see that he was breathing but it was shallow and slow. Ron had to control her trembling hands as she lifted him out of the crib and felt his burning skin. She couldn't think of a time he had ever been that hot before.
Ron didn't know what to do. Giving him his prescribed medicine when he was this sick would be pointless. She set him back down in his worn crib and tried to think clearly for a minute. She needed help this time. Real help. She ran into her bedroom and pulled on a pair of jeans, not bothering to change her shirt and looked around. She saw his car seat but she didn't have car. She used to but it was towed away because she had no money to make the payments. Ron's eyes started to water again. Stop it, she told herself. If she lost control, she'd never get Max to the hospital.
She ran back to his nursery and scooped him into her arms. She threw a small blanket around his tiny, warm body and carried him out of the apartment. She would get him to the emergency room and everything would be fine...she hoped.
* * *
Richard leaned back in his chair, counting the ceiling tiles. He had very few appointments today and most of them were at the end of his shift. The dean of medicine had told him to work in ER until his first appointment, but he hated working there. All it consisted of were people who whined over simple medical problems such as cutting their hand off. Well, that was a bad example. However-
The door opened and suspended his thoughts. His colleague, Dr. Nick Connors, came into the room with a clipboard in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other. He sat down without saying anything and threw his clipboard on the ground, focusing on lighting his cigarette. Richard glared at him.
"Is it really necessary to do that here? I have patients come in here for consults and I don't want them suing me for giving them lung cancer," he warned. Connors puffed the smoke from his nose and looked at Richard with lazy eyes. "First of all, all your patients are under ten. Second of all, second hand smoke doesn't kill or my wife would have died years ago," he muttered. Richard just rolled his eyes. "...and I'm sure you wouldn't have a problem with that."
"Damn straight," he said, keep his attention on smoking. Connors' marriage was nothing but a joke. Connors paid more attention to the nurses than his wife and his wife felt the same way about the younger men who crossed her path. As far as he knew, neither had actually cheated but if they did, Richard was sure it wouldn't matter.
He groaned and stood up. "Can't you do that in your own office?" he asked. Connors still didn't bother to look at him. "Beth can smell it. If she finds out I'm smoking again she'll-"
"What?" he interrupted, "Leave you? Ha." Another well known fact about Connors' marriage was that Beth would never leave him regardless of how many women he flirted with and vice versa. Even Richard wasn't sure why. He picked up the clipboard and saw it was chart from the ER. He chuckled. "Velmont got you down in the ER too, huh?" Connors leaned back in his chair and nodded. "Damn bastard's got everyone down there. Two car accidents this morning. Place is like a fuckin' circus," he mumbled. Connors wasn't really known for his social skills with the patients. Time certainly didn't change that fact. Connors was nine years older than Richard and it was obvious. His hair was black and usually hung past his ears, matching well with his thin beard and stubble. His brown eyes were dull and lifeless, like he had been used and now he was done. Although, Richard had a hard time believing that. Connors never took crap from anybody.