Normal | Rhekker

Chapter 9- Tears Over Beers

Connor woke with an unsettlingly feeling. He knew what today was. He showered and cleaned up his beard over the sink. Changing into his scrubs he checked his phone in the lift on the way down.
He checked his phone. No new notifications.

The doors opened in the ground floor and Connor put his phone away.
Left with this unsettling feeling.
It was still dark as he drove to the hospital. The days getting shorter as winter approached.
He was alone in the locker room, having come in a bit early he unpacked his things. The room was quite and he thought back to childhood.
"Good Morning" someone said as they passed him, walking away before he could respond.
He shrugged it off and went to start his day.

*

"Hi, I'm Dr. Rhodes do we have here" he pulled the curtain back.
"Jaxson's sister ran over his fingers with his new skateboard"
"I'm sorry, I'm Alexa, his mother. This is Asher my husband"
"I'm Connor Rhodes, Chief of Trauma surgery"
"Surgery? He's going to need surgery?"
"It's a possibility but nothing's for certain yet, I need to examine the patient"
"Hi Bud" he sat in the stool next to the bed, "can I take a look at your hand"
He couldn't have been any older then ten.
"I was letting Alissa have a go, It's my birthday present but she wanted a have a go"
Connor looked at the boys fingers.
"When was your birthday?" He asked,
"Today, I'm nine"
"Well happy birthday, little guy. I'm sure you're the best brother"
He stood, "the circulation is still flowing, I know it seems bad, and it is a bad break but amputation isn't something that we'd need to consider. It'll take some time and physio therapy, but I imagine he'll make a full recovery"
"Thank you, Dr. Rhdoes"
"I'll send someone around to talk to you about the ends steps.

Connor stood scrolling through his iPad and filling out the info, sending one of the nurses in to speak with the. He watched from the nurses desk as a large group of his male colleagues passed. He exhaled shortly and looked back to his file.

He made his way out for lunch. Connor walked through the canteen, getting his meal he looked around spotting many a familiar faces but found no one to sit with. Ava and Owen were nowhere to be seen, presuming he had just missed them. He returned to his office and ate along, checking his phone once more.

Connor returned to his empty hotel room and dropped his bag. He showered, letting the cold water run over his inked skin. He stepped out and dried himself, changing into some lounge clothes. Setting himself on the edge of his bed he found a large leather folder on his lap. He ran his fingers over it, tracing the stitching with his nail. The edges had worn away at the base, where it had rested on a shelf for many years. He wasn't sure what made him bring it with him. He could have left it in Chicago, in the rental locker with the rest of his possessions.
And yet here it was on his lap.

He opened the cover, the first imagine a picture of him as a baby in the hospital crib. He was tiny and bright pink. Only a few hours old.
The next was one on his second birthday going by the candle. He was stood up on his mother's knees so he could reach, leaning on his hands on the table. His mothers face wasn't in this imagine but he could remember what she looked like in the dress she wore, how her perfume clung to him.

Then there was one of him and Claire. When she had just been born, Carlota was holding her tightly in her arms. The next one of them at a lake for the Fourth of July, Connor was about nine so Claire would have been six. He work a star spangled banner bucket hat.

This one was of Connor and Claire. Dressed in pants and a shirt and a blue frilly dress. His father had removed most imagines of his late mother from the home, her possessions as well. The only images he had of her were when she was younger, before she wed. But here in the background of the image was his mother. He was sure of it, she was distanced, standing off to the side with Carlota. He's wonders how he'd never spotted her. It was a garden party, the summer before she'd killed herself. If what his father had said to be true she should have been in the depths of a depression , but her she was, stood smiling proudly at her son, from afar.