Frankie followed her new boss down the hallway, past half a series of closed doors. She was shown the restrooms, the lab, the equipment room; they ended up back on the first floor at the nurses’ station.
“Sit there,” Mrs. Henderson said. “Answer the phone. If there’s trouble, page me.”
Frankie took a seat. You may help patients to the restroom, refill their water, change bedpans.
She took a deep breath and released it. Barb and Ethel had prepared her for this. She’d known it was coming. There was no point being angry. She simply needed to show them what she could do. Good things took time.
* * *
April 27, 1969
Dear Ethel,
I got a job as a nurse in a local hospital. Yay! I hope you can read the sarcasm in that word.
Barb was right. They’re treating me like I’m a candy striper. Sometimes it makes me so mad I want to scream. They have me on the night shift, answering phones and changing bedpans and refilling water pitchers.
Me. On the night shift.
The only good thing is the anger sometimes makes me forget how sad I am.
I’ll stick with it, though. Prove myself. I’ll bet you’re thinking of my first shift in-country.
I’ve got this. Thanks for reminding me, by the way. I still love nursing.
That’s something.
So, how’s life on the horse farm? Still kicking ass in your classes? How’s that new mare coming along, what’s her name? Silver Birch? After some book you read in junior high?
How’s Noah?
Love,
F
* * *
Running, breathing hard.
The admin building blows up beside me.
A chopper overhead. I look up, see Rye in the pilot’s seat.
A whistling sound.
I scream.
The helicopter explodes in the dark sky, blows into pieces. Ash rains down on me.
A helmet thuds to the ground at my feet, on fire. RIOT melts off the metal.
Frankie woke with a start, looked around.
At least she wasn’t on the floor. That felt like a small victory.
She pushed the covers back and got out of bed, not surprised to find that she felt weak. Last night had been a bad one for nightmares. There was no rhyme or reason to it; she had nightmares and mood swings out of the blue. Sometimes she felt as if she were hanging on to the end of a giant undulating rope. It took all her strength not to let go.
Putting on her chenille bathrobe, she made her way out to the kitchen, which was empty at 1500 hours. She poured a cup of coffee and carried it out to the patio, where her mother sat at a table by the pool, doing a puzzle.
“There you are,” her mom said, setting a puzzle piece aside. Her gaze narrowed, swept Frankie from head to toe. “You didn’t sleep well again?”
Frankie shrugged.
“This vampire shift of yours isn’t helping.”
“Maybe not.” Frankie sat down.
“How much longer will they have you working these ghoulish hours?”
“Who knows? It’s only been two weeks.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Me, either.” She looked at her mother, who she knew saw the sorrow Frankie worked every day to overcome, and also worried about Frankie’s unsettling anger, which could flare up without warning.
“We should go to dinner soon. At the club.”
“Sure, Mom. Whatever.”
* * *
At just past 2200 hours, Frankie drove toward the ferry terminal on Coronado. There were few cars out this late on a weeknight in mid-May; no tourists stumbling from bar to bar, no well-dressed couples walking to their cars after dinner out. The island was tucked in for the night already and Frankie was going to work. She intended to be early to start her shift, as usual; it was something she’d learned in Vietnam.
In San Diego, the hospital was brightly illuminated. She parked beneath a palm tree and headed inside, waving to colleagues on her way to the lockers.
She smiled tightly, hopeful that no one detected the rabid frustration she felt with every shift.
They still treated her like an FNG. They didn’t even let her start an IV.
Still, she kept her mouth shut and soldiered on, as she had been taught to do. At her locker, she changed into her uniform and headed for the nurses’ station, to take her place at the desk.
As usual, the halls were quiet; most of the patients were sleeping, their doors closed. Frankie’s first chore was always to check each room, each patient. And to call for help if it was needed.
She poured herself a Styrofoam cup full of coffee and stood at the desk, sipping it.
An elderly man shuffled toward her, moving as if in pain, his shoulders hunched.