~ And Then There Were None ~

by

Jonathon Clemmer

The grounds of John Peterson Hospital covered almost two square city blocks. Located on the west side of Dallas, relatively new, it already had a growing reputation for excellence in vascular by-pass surgery. Among those in the medical profession, it was also well-known for its high salaries and good working conditions. These last two attributes were the main reason Sarah Morgan, RN, felt fortunate to be employed in its surgical intensive care unit. She enjoyed working as a nurse, and had worked for less pay in the past. However, now she was a single parent and needed the larger income to cover her and her daughter’s living expenses.

From the left side of the hospital’s main entrance, for the convenience of wheelchair patients, a cement ramp slanted down to a wide sidewalk. For those who could walk, a row of stairs led off to the right. Although quite able-bodied, Sarah never bothered with the stairs. The ramp pointed in the direction of the employee’s parking area, and she preferred the quicker route.

Her shift over, Sarah started to leave, but was reluctant to trade the cool, air-conditioned building for the outdoors. Late afternoon air waited to smother its victims in sweltering heat. Sarah paused at the large glass doors. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself and then hurried out into the glaring sunlight. It felt like a furnace. She knew it would. Hot air radiated up from the asphalt, rising in searing waves about her legs, and she walked faster.

In the distance, she could see her 1996 white, ram van parked in the last row against a tall chain-link fence. Employees parked much further from the hospital than did the patients. It was a long walk in the heat.

A small, gray cloud slowly teased its way across the blue expanse of open sky, mocking the parched earth below, but Sarah knew it only held an empty promise of rain. There had been no dark clouds for over a month; no summer storms to cleanse city pollution from the streets or turn dying lawns green.

It was a hot, miserable, Texas July. Even the occasional wind gave no relief, stirring dry dust into dryer air, leaving Dallas hotter than before.

One lone cloud was an insult of nature.

Finally reaching her car, not thinking, Sarah grabbed the metal handle and immediately jerked her hand away, swearing, "Damn it! Hot-hot-hot!"

As she blew desperately on her stinging palm, a high pitched male voice called from far behind, "Hey, Sar, Sar! Wait up!"

She did not have to turn around to recognize to whom the voice belonged. There was only one man she knew with the audacity to give her a nickname as irritating as Sar. Marven Gibbs, a scrub-tech, had for the past two years made no effort to hide his obvious infatuation. Instead, he constantly pointed out the tremendous amount they had in common. They were both thirty years old, divorced, single parents, and worked on the same shift. And they breathed the same air. To Marven, this smacked of destiny. To Sarah, it ranked somewhere between comical and tragic.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him jogging eagerly toward her and said, "Sorry, Marven. No time to talk today. Gotta pick up Lydia and I’m already late."

"Just hang on a minute, will ya?" he panted, coming to a wheezing stop a few feet away. "Whoa. You left in such a rush, I almost didn’t catch ya!" Both hands placed dramatically over his chest, his breath ragged, he gasped, "You’re gonna give me a MI making me run after you in this terrible heat. They say it’s a hundred and ten in the shade today. Whooee! Feels hotter!"

Half irritated, half amused, Sarah grinned, "If you fall over with a coronary don’t blame me or the heat." She glanced down, pointedly, at the front of his shirt. It stretched over a round, bulging stomach.

"You could help me work it off," he said suggestively. "How about you and me doing some--"

"I’ve gotta go," she cut him off and started searching inside her purse for something to protect against the searing heat of the handle. She was certain there were Kleenex in one of the pockets.

Just as she found them, Marven jumped forward, saying, "Allow me."

Before she could warn him, he grabbed the handle, looked startled, inhaled loudly, but bravely opened the door anyway.

"You didn’t have to do that." She waved the napkins in his face. "See these? I was going to use them like potholders. Now your hand’s burnt. Sorry."

"Ohhhh, you do care about me," he grinned, exposing short, blunt teeth. "I see it in your sapphire eyes. My life’s complete! To be loved by one so beautiful, so golden haired, and--"

"Knock it off."

"So gorgeous in mind," his eyebrows danced up and down several times before he continued, "and in body! It’s worth a hundred blisters, no, a thousand, just to know you care!"

Ignoring him, she climbed into the van. "Mercy! It’s hotter in here than out there."

"Don’t hurry off," Marven half pleaded as she shut the door in his face. "You’re already late. What’s a few more minutes going to hurt? Come on. You’re too sweet and kind, too beautiful, to treat me like this."

After starting the engine, Sarah turned on the air-conditioner. A steady stream of hot air blew from the vents, and she pleaded, "Come on, get cold."

Still standing beside the van, Marven continued praising her many beautiful features, both physical and spiritual.

Embarrassed by the thought of anyone passing by and overhearing such nonsense, Sarah roughly shoved the gearshift into reverse and began carefully backing out of the parking space. Marven was a terrible pest, but she had no desire to back over him, although the idea had crossed her mind on occasions.

Keeping up with the barely moving van, his round stomach jiggling, he knocked rapidly on the closed window, shouting, "Wait! I never told you what I wanted!"

Had he wanted something? Did, for once, he have a legitimate reason for following her? Something concerning hospital business?

Stopping, she rolled down the window and gave him a questioning stare. When he did not immediately explain, she asked, "So? What is it?"

His sweaty face breaking into a wide grin, he sighed, "Just wanted to say, lovely lady, have a nice day!"

Exhaling slowly and deliberately, Sarah shook her head. Suddenly, she found the situation more funny than irritating and began to laugh. "You know, one of these days someone’s going to run over you. And it just might be me!"

"Turn me into road-kill? A tire waffle? Never! You’re too kind, too gentle, too--"

"Goodbye, Marven." She rolled up the window and turned her face to the vents, which were now blowing refreshing cold air out of the narrow slots.

Leaving the parking lot, Sarah saw her unwanted suitor in the rearview mirror. He was waving cheerfully.

Puzzled by his persistence, she thought, Why doesn’t he bother someone else? It’s not like I haven’t been blunt enough. I’m rude, downright hateful at times. Can’t he see I’m not interested? Good grief, after Dean, I’d be a fool to trust any man, even one as harmless as Marven.