The Pelican

Part 4

There were three pagers clipped to the elastic waistband in Nassrin's skirt, and the floral fabric bowed with the weight. A reminder that she was tethered to Ocean Hospital, for better or worse. The patient she was seeing, an old man with heart failure, kept stealing glances at the place where her skirt was falling. As he described his difficulty breathing, Nassrin moved the code pager to the breast pocket of her white coat, believing it was the least likely pager to rupture an eardrum by going off so close to her face.

Karen had approached her earlier in the day. Could Nassrin take the admissions pager? She had already been called with two admissions, and Bill made reservations at Chez Poison but could only get a table at 5:00 pm. Nassrin took pleasure in telling her no. Karen spent the next few hours gaslighting her by text.

Hang in there, girl. You got this.

Don't let this job overwhelm you.

Tomorrow we can go for a walk, and I'll help you destress.

Nassrin made no effort to reply, but later fumed with indignation when she found Opal holding two phone receivers and wearing Karen's pager on the lanyard around her neck.

"You're holding her pager?" Nassrin asked.

Opal waved her off. "She had a thing. She said it was super important."

Nassrin could see the beginnings of a wet spot forming on Opal's blouse. She was leaking breast milk. Nassrin leaned in close, snatched Karen's pager and whispered, "She's having dinner at Chez Poison while your baby isn't getting dinner at all."

Now Nassrin had collected five new patients, and she pasted on her nice face as she finished with old Mr. Heart Failure.

"See you tomorrow," Nassrin said, and hurried out the door.

Isabelle Aberdeen practically tackled her as soon as she was in the hallway. "Nassrin, I brought some things for the photoshoot," she said.

Nassrin looked at her patient list and begged off. "I wasn't planning to do the photoshoot," she said. "I'm meeting my boyfriend's parents for the first time that night." She left Isabelle standing in the hallway and went in search of her next patient's room. Isabelle followed with surprising speed for a woman in her sixties. Nassrin looked over her shoulder. "Can you talk to Dr. Aberdeen? I think I could be the new medical director without doing the photoshoot."

Isabelle had a garment bag filled with clothing draped over one arm and an enormous Louis Viton handbag thrown over the other shoulder. "Let's talk in the Doctors' Lounge," she said.

Nassrin relented and took the garment bag. "Jeeze. Did you pack all of Bealls in here?"

Isabelle laughed. "It's not Bealls. I had my stylist overnight some things from New York."

Nassrin shoved her unfinished patient list into her pocket as she unlocked the Doctors' Lounge door. Finding the lounge empty, she dropped the garment bag heavily on the couch and unzipped it from the top. A deep burgundy fabric was on top. She looked at Isabelle. "Did you try Karen?"

"Karen is my backup plan," she answered. "And she isn't here."

"She's at Chez Poison," Nassrin said.

Isabelle checked her watch and raised an eyebrow but moved on. "I can talk to Dr. Aberdeen if you want me to," she said. "If I want you to be medical director, you will be."

"Oh, thank you!" Nassrin exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Isabelle.

"But I'm obsessed with your look for this magazine!" she continued. "Oh, Nassrin, why is this thing with your boyfriend so important? Are you pregnant?"

Nassrin laughed. "No, but we're considering a dog."

"I had to drop out of medical school when Ronald and I got pregnant," Isabelle confided.

"You went to medical school?" Nassrin exclaimed.

Isabelle began pulling gowns from the garment bag and laying them over the backs of chairs. Then came the jewelry from her handbag. "Ronald was my classmate in medical school," she said with a smile. "He leant me his pen after I chewed mine to bits... I didn't want to have an abortion, so... you know."

"Wow," Nassrin said, running her fingers over a silver sequined mini skirt.

"Your boyfriend," Isabelle continued. "What's his name?"

"I call him Tallahassee," Nassrin answered.

Isabelle looked up from the baubles she was arranging on a table. "Why?"

"So, I don't get him confused with Gainesville," Nassrin answered simply.

"Tallahassee must be running for congress or something, the way you prioritize him."

Tallahassee was not running for congress. He was tending bar. But he prioritized her. He made her feel like she belonged, like she was whole. Nassrin didn't correct Isabelle, though. "I can talk to Dr. Aberdeen myself, Isabelle," she said.

"Look, Nassrin. We're both from New York. You know that diversity is a living, breathing thing up there. But in Gilbert, Florida?" Isabelle shook her head. "We have to work harder to show the world that Doctors Inc is a melting pot."

"Alex Tang can't wear pink?" Nassrin asked, holding up a dress.

Isabelle laughed. "It's not his color. Tom either!" She held up a black evening gown against Nassrin's cashew skin. "Doctors Inc needs to look like you. Go try this on."

Nassrin plunked three pagers on table one by one, then took the gown to bathroom. Once in the gown, she pressed herself against the wall across from the mirror and tied her hair overhead, taking in her own beauty. She froze when she returned to the lounge, her stomach dropping to her knees. Isabelle had picked up Nassrin's phone and was speaking to someone. She smiled and waved Nassrin over.

"It's Tallahassee," she said. "I took the liberty of getting you out of your plans."

Nassrin lunged for the phone. "Honey?" she asked.

"Babe, you didn't tell me about the photoshoot," Tallahassee said.

"I'm not doing the photoshoot. I'm coming to your place and meeting your parents."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "The lady made it sound important."

Nassrin took in the dresses strewn about the lounge, the image of Karen in burgundy taking her place in the company, Nassrin trapsing through a college town for the rest of her life. "Will you be mad?" she asked.

"It is what it is," Tallahassee answered.

"Tell your parents I'm sorry," Nassrin said. "I'm doing the photoshoot."

"I'll just come to the Christmas party with you," Tallahassee said. Nassrin cringed.

Isabelle squealed and grabbed the phone. "I can't wait to meet you! It's formal attire. I'll see you at the Doctors Inc annual Christmas party!"