Brain Games

8. Defeat

Once Brad leaves the locker room, I change into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, grabbing my bag, more than ready to go home for the day. I walk out of the neurosurgery department and find Ashlee and Patrick walking down the hall, chatting animatedly.

"Hey, girlie," Ashlee greets me chipperly. "How was the first day?" she asks more cautiously, slightly cringing, telling me she already knows how my day went with how fast word supposedly travels around here. Maybe I'd know if I hadn't spent a quarter of my day in the shower and finding new scrubs to change into, cleaning off throw up.

I only grunt in response.

She gives me a sympathetic look. "Yeah... I heard. If it makes you feel any better, my day wasn't that great either."

"What happened to you?" I ask.

She grins. "Tell you over a beer," she coaxes, a hopeful sparkle in her eye.

I let out a long, tired sigh. "Not tonight."

Her lips form into a pout. "Oh come on, you have to go! Almost all the new residents are going. It's practically a tradition to go to EBS after your first official day."

"I'm so tired, I don't think I can stand for more than five minutes," I complain, my body sagging back against the wall for emphasis.

"Well lucky for you EBS has plenty of seating. Plus, nothing drowns first day blues better than booze and burgers."

"I think you mean nothing drowns first day blues better than going home, dropping into bed and passing the fuck out."

Ashlee shakes her head, grabbing my arm and dragging me down the hall, Patrick in tow. Too tired to fight back, I let her drag me to the scrubs machine to dispose of our used scrubs and out the hospital doors. I manage to walk the two blocks to EBS, heavily leaning on Ashlee the whole way, and collapse into one of the last available booths.

EBS is jammed packed with people, majority first year residents and even some attendings—all probably needing a drink after a very long and grueling day. There's a loud buzz throughout the dim bar, everyone talking about the eventful day, tones ranging from excited, to dreadful, to exasperated, and everything in between.

I scoot to the inside of the booth, next to the wall, and dig in my purse, pulling out a twenty. I throw the bill at Patrick and beg him to go up to the bar to get me a burger and a beer, telling him to use the change to get whatever he wants. Surprised and amused, Patrick obliges.

"Get me a whisky sour!" Ashlee calls after him.

"Pay me too or get your own!" he calls back over his shoulder, disappearing into the crowd.

Ashlee huffs, shooting me a glare. "Look what you did. Now he thinks he's entitled." With a childish stomp of her foot, she runs after her cousin, fearlessly elbowing her way through the crowd to catch up to him.

With the two of them gone, I guard the table by folding my arms over it and resting my forehead on them, closing my eyes. I listen to the hum of the bar and more specifically the nurses at the booth behind me bitching about all the new doctors trying to boss them around and about all the times they had to save the newbies asses today.

I start to doze off. Just as I'm about to fully submerge into unconsciousness, I hear someone slide into the booth across from me. I automatically assume it's either Ashlee or Patrick, but there's no form of bickering going on. I know I haven't known the cousins for long, but I feel like I know them well enough to know that they're never this quiet. Maybe it's just Patrick, because if it was Ashlee she would have woken me up by now. But I'm too tired to look up at who it is. Whoever it is, I know Ashlee will run them off if she doesn't want them at our table.