Malcolm continued.
“You are going to meet people when they are frightened, exhausted, grieving, intoxicated, injured, furious, confused, or just plain unpleasant.”
Ethan listened.
“Your job is not to determine whether you enjoy how they are talking to you.”
“You have to determine whether they are dangerous.”
Malcolm stood.
“My eight minutes are almost gone.”
Ethan stood too.
“Dr. Hayes?”
“Yes?”
“I really am sorry.”
Malcolm looked at him.
“I believe you.”
Ethan seemed relieved.
Malcolm immediately added, “That is not the same as saying the damage disappeared.”
The relief faded.
“I know.”
“Good.”
Malcolm returned upstairs.
That was enough for one day.
Chapter 12: Emily Comes Back
Emily Foster survived.
Recovery took nearly seven months.
She had three additional procedures, months of physical therapy, and a permanent scar across her abdomen that she later joked made her look tougher than she felt. Her parents sent the trauma staff holiday cards containing updates.
One afternoon in late summer, Malcolm received a message that a visitor was waiting near the trauma unit.
Emily stood there with a cane.
Her parents were beside her.
Malcolm smiled.
“You’re walking.”
“Badly.”
“Still counts.”
She hugged him.
Then pulled back.
“I don’t remember you.”
Malcolm laughed.
“That is one of the nicest things trauma patients can tell me.”
“My parents do.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
Her father smiled.
“We told her everything.”
Malcolm assumed he meant the surgeries.
Then Emily said, “Including you getting handcuffed.”
He groaned.
“I was hoping that story died.”
“My dad said you came back upstairs with cuff marks on your wrists and operated again.”
Malcolm looked uncomfortable.
“There was work.”
Emily’s eyes filled.
“You could’ve gone home.”
“Someone else could have taken over.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t they?”
Malcolm looked toward the trauma doors.
“Because I knew your case.”
She shook her head.
“You saved my life.”
“A lot of people did.”
“You were one.”
Malcolm finally nodded.
“Yes.”