“Well hello, you two,” Dani says in a voice matching her polka-dotted uniform. “Hey, Brett, she looks super today!”

“Oh yes, hey.” Brett tries to mirror her tone.

“And thanks, YOU,” Dani says playfully, miming a flirty swish of an invisible skirt.

Brett looks confused. “Thanks?”

“For the signed photo. To a special gal, your fan Brett Haney?”

Somehow, I’d missed that little exchange. Little did she know Brett’s assistant forged all his autographs.

“Oh right, glad you got it.”

“It was the talk of the fourth-floor nurses’ station!” She shimmies her shoulders then comes to my bedside and adopts a concerned tone. “How’s our patient?”

Dead yet? is what she wants to say. She runs her fingers down the IV tubing and replaces one of the empty bags.

Get away from me, you conniving bitch. I picture Amber, my soap opera character from Circle of Life grabbing Dani by the collar of her dotted pajamas and shoving her out the door.

Brett sulks over and slumps down on the couch. “They took that wire off her jaw. Other than that…” He drops his face in his hands.

Dani makes a note on my chart then lays it on the foot of my bed. On my actual foot.

“I know how hard this can be. I’ve watched many families go through this.”

Brett nods.

“I’ve seen miracles,” Dani says softly.

“Really?” Brett asks from behind his fingers.

“Mmm-hmm. Just this morning a patient, a little black girl, twelve, went home, almost as good as new.”

“What happened to her?” Brett takes a Kleenex from a box on the coffee table and swipes at his nose.

“Car accident, poor baby. We lost her mom.”

“Wow,” Brett exhales. “I’m sure glad I don’t have your job.”

Dani marches over, aligns the magazines on the coffee table, then moves to the window and fiddles with the blinds.

“Don’t want the sun in her eyes,” she trills.

“Oh thanks, sorry I-I should’ve done that.”

“Nonsense, just part of my job. Besides, I like to keep busy.” As if to prove her point she traverses the room, plucking up several used tissues and depositing them in the trash.

“Don’t you ever take a break?” Brett asks.

“Not in this part of the hospital.” Dani puts my chart back in the holder, gives my tubes and IVs another once-over, then leans back against my bed facing my boyfriend. Her long, stocking-covered legs are stretched out in front of her. One toe of her Stride Rites traces circles on the floor. “If you’d like to talk about anything, y’know, or need a friendly shoulder, there’s always a fresh pot of coffee in the staff room.”