Waltz of Her Life

By the end of her shift, Linda had tossed three smocks into the giant laundry vat. When Jenny passed by Linda stopped her. "Is it always like this?"

"Sometimes," Jenny said, quickly adding "but tonight was worse than usual. There could be a full moon or something. Hang in there, kid. You did great."

At home later, Linda tried to calm down by nestling onto the couch to watch TV.

While she petted her cat Veronica, "Hawaii-Five O" played. Her mother had whipped up a batch of chamomile tea, something she said "…was sure to make you feel a whole lot better."

"I just have one question," she said, softly. "How can God allow this to happen? I mean, you should have seen it! It was like being in hell."

Her mother, who had slipped on a pair of reading glasses shrugged, while glancing at a magazine. "That's one of those questions you're not supposed to ask. At least, not now."

"Those people were so sick," Linda went on. "It was horrible!"

Molly threw one of Veronica's little stuffed mice toys at her. "Get used to it. You're the one who wants to be a nurse!"

"Shut up, you little brat."

Molly started pretending to be sick and throw up, over and over, making gagging and hurling sounds. "I'll tell you what, I'll make myself throw up so you can practice!"

Their mother sat the opened magazine face down on her lap and glared across the room.

"Molly Ellen Serafina! That is the most disgusting thing I've ever heard! If you can't say something nice, then keep your yap shut or you'll be grounded the rest of the summer." To emphasize, she pointed a threatening finger at her.

Molly's eyes widened as she rocked back and forth in the easy chair, the one where their father usually sat. "Okay," she said. "Geez."

After another relaxed and low-key day at the feed store the next day, Linda braced herself for what awaited her at the hospital. Surprisingly, she found it half as crowded as it had been the night before. Jenny said "No one likes to come here on a Friday night. We're slow. Enjoy it."

Linda looked over the cart and at the patients peacefully reclining in their chairs.

IV bags dangling from poles above hem dripped fluid down into their veins. "Well, good for that, I guess," but she wondered how she would pass the time if nothing was going on.