Ring. Ring. I stare as the automatic doors whoosh open. Blue flowers watch me. A man, big man, with sad eyes. Ring. Answer, dammit!

The man comes and stands patiently in front of me. Disheveled, wrinkled pants, overgrown hair. He has big eyes, sad eyes. Brown, face sweet and long like a Basset hound’s.

I give the man my “be with you in just a minute” gesture, finger upraised in a one. Meet his eyes, so sad, and I could hug him. Tears pool in my eyes. I have to swallow. It takes a long second after the beep for me to be able to talk. “Dina, it’s Darah from work, there’s some OT available tonight, it’s urgent. Call me.”

The man looks down at someone, then lifts up a little girl. Her eyes are blue, sad as her father’s. Bangs cut straight across her tiny forehead. He smiles politely. “Excuse me, my daughter’s sprained her ankle.”

The sad look is, I realize, his natural expression. So sad. I can’t speak for a second. The little girl is dressed in a pink top, tiny, no more than four. She leans, tucked into her father’s chest, staring at me, solemn resigned eyes. Quiet.

I suddenly want to hold them, crush them both to me, snuff out their sadness. I know, I want to say. Shane. But I can’t speak.

I nod, and in slow motion, swallow. “I’m sorry to hear that. Um, sign in over there below the green sign and have a seat please.”

I watch as the man presses a kiss to the girl’s head and I see that she is wearing one shoe. The other foot is clad in a pink sock, lacy little ruffle at the ankle. I can tell just by looking that it is broken.

Broken. Tears well up and I have to wipe them away.

I’m still holding the phone in my hand. I’ll try Lou. Doubt she’ll turn tail back here, but you never know. She’s met Shane. A ring. She instantly picks up. “Hello? Hello?” Maybe she will come in for me.

“Lou?”

“Who’s this?”

“It’s Darah. Um, could you-”

“Speak up, Boo.”

“It’s Darah. Um, I was wondering if you could come in. My friend Shane, I dunno if you remember her, but she’s been shot and she’s up in the OR now but-”