Steven Hunley
02-03-2013, 10:41 PM
Sherlock Nurse and the Adventure of the Dubrovnik Infirmary
by Steven Hunley
“Pam! Where’s Pam?”
“Did you hear that?” one nurse said to another. “He’s talking.”
“Where am I?”
Two nurses were sharing coffee out of a thermos in the nurse’s station. One, the petite model, was fresh and new and every one of her nails sparkled.
“Can you believe that? I never thought when I started working here they said that, like it was just a line from a movie or something, but it’s true.”
The tall cool blond, a senior nurse, grabbed a chart from the desk.
“His paper work says he’s an American, and we know he’s been unconscious for two days from a concussion. What’d you expect him to say? Hi, I’m Edward Mulcahey from San Diego, California, pleased to meet you?”
“I guess not.”
“Take it from me, he’s a stranger in a strange land and he’s suffered a trauma. Go and check his vital signs while I call the doctor.”
The short good-looking one took the chart from her, and for a second stopped at the mirror to remove a wisp of hair from over her face, and tucked it neatly under her cap. She liked how the white A-line skirt flattered her figure. She'd wanted to be a nurse since ever she was little when she’d received a nurse's kit for Christmas, and she adored how pure she looked in a white starched cap. She took her wedding ring off her finger, stashed it in her pocket, and draped a stethoscope gracefully over her neck like Maupassant’s Mathilde with a pearl necklace.
The tall nurse added, “And don’t forget to speak English.”
“Gottcha.”
'“O.K. You don’t have to get funny on me. And don’t flirt with this one either. I noticed a Buddhist prayer ring on the ring finger of his left hand. This guy is already taken.”
“ It isn’t a wedding ring!”
“No, a Buddhist prayer ring, but look where it is.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means he’s in love with someone. It’s a one-size-fits-all ring. A man knows his size, or tries a ring on when he buys it. Someone must have given him that ring. I suspect his lover. He could have put it on any finger, but that was his choice."
“But he’s good looking!”
“So’s your husband. Get over it.”
The short dark one held her tongue.
The long-legged nurse poured herself another cup of coffee and added a spoonful or two of sugar. Then she went back to attacking her paperwork.
‘Who does she think ‘Pam’ is anyway? His mother?’
But her wheels had already started to turn. ‘They must not have known each other very long. She doesn’t know his ring size. Not yet. They must be fresh, infatuated. And look at the ring. More than a symbol of union, it’s a symbol of love, eternal, unlike their earth-bound bodies made of earth’s minerals, it lasts forever. And the ring is a prayer, I call it that, wrapped around his finger so he’ll never forget.’
She returned to her book and her lunch. She opened the book, placed it on her lap and turned to the title page of Manual of the Operations of Surgery by Dr. Joseph Bell, which she'd marked with a pressed flower.
‘She’s overly romantic and should have been a detective,’ thought the new girl, ‘and I wish she’d stay out of my business.’
©Steven Hunley 2013
by Steven Hunley
“Pam! Where’s Pam?”
“Did you hear that?” one nurse said to another. “He’s talking.”
“Where am I?”
Two nurses were sharing coffee out of a thermos in the nurse’s station. One, the petite model, was fresh and new and every one of her nails sparkled.
“Can you believe that? I never thought when I started working here they said that, like it was just a line from a movie or something, but it’s true.”
The tall cool blond, a senior nurse, grabbed a chart from the desk.
“His paper work says he’s an American, and we know he’s been unconscious for two days from a concussion. What’d you expect him to say? Hi, I’m Edward Mulcahey from San Diego, California, pleased to meet you?”
“I guess not.”
“Take it from me, he’s a stranger in a strange land and he’s suffered a trauma. Go and check his vital signs while I call the doctor.”
The short good-looking one took the chart from her, and for a second stopped at the mirror to remove a wisp of hair from over her face, and tucked it neatly under her cap. She liked how the white A-line skirt flattered her figure. She'd wanted to be a nurse since ever she was little when she’d received a nurse's kit for Christmas, and she adored how pure she looked in a white starched cap. She took her wedding ring off her finger, stashed it in her pocket, and draped a stethoscope gracefully over her neck like Maupassant’s Mathilde with a pearl necklace.
The tall nurse added, “And don’t forget to speak English.”
“Gottcha.”
'“O.K. You don’t have to get funny on me. And don’t flirt with this one either. I noticed a Buddhist prayer ring on the ring finger of his left hand. This guy is already taken.”
“ It isn’t a wedding ring!”
“No, a Buddhist prayer ring, but look where it is.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means he’s in love with someone. It’s a one-size-fits-all ring. A man knows his size, or tries a ring on when he buys it. Someone must have given him that ring. I suspect his lover. He could have put it on any finger, but that was his choice."
“But he’s good looking!”
“So’s your husband. Get over it.”
The short dark one held her tongue.
The long-legged nurse poured herself another cup of coffee and added a spoonful or two of sugar. Then she went back to attacking her paperwork.
‘Who does she think ‘Pam’ is anyway? His mother?’
But her wheels had already started to turn. ‘They must not have known each other very long. She doesn’t know his ring size. Not yet. They must be fresh, infatuated. And look at the ring. More than a symbol of union, it’s a symbol of love, eternal, unlike their earth-bound bodies made of earth’s minerals, it lasts forever. And the ring is a prayer, I call it that, wrapped around his finger so he’ll never forget.’
She returned to her book and her lunch. She opened the book, placed it on her lap and turned to the title page of Manual of the Operations of Surgery by Dr. Joseph Bell, which she'd marked with a pressed flower.
‘She’s overly romantic and should have been a detective,’ thought the new girl, ‘and I wish she’d stay out of my business.’
©Steven Hunley 2013