A Striking Resemblance

This is a novel-length story set in the Hop on the Bus world. Reading the previous works aren't necessary, but those who are familiar with them might enjoy visiting with some characters again.

Thanks for reading and happy holidays.

A Striking Resemblance

SHELLEY

The noise receded, and I was able to pretend I was by myself. I sat there with my head on my hands and arms crossed on the table. My eyes were closed. I could have been alone. In fact, I should have been. If my stomach hadn't been growling, I would've just gone to the lounge for employees and closed my eyes for an hour before going back to work. Instead, I went down to the cafeteria on the first floor and quickly realized that I was too tired to wait in line.

I hadn't had a day off in almost two weeks. The only upside was my growing bank account. I still owed my father for covering most of the costs of my move from California to Pueblo. He'd have been offended if I tried to give him the money back, of course, but I didn't feel right taking his charity. He's as rich as Midas, but he also just got married. Maybe twenty years ago when I was in college it would've been okay for him to pay my way, but not now.

I heard someone drag out one of the chairs at my table and sent up a small prayer that they were going to take it somewhere else instead of sitting down with me. My prayer went unanswered. I would have thought that the whole employee-resting-with-their-head-on-their-arms thing would've clued in the interloper, but not so much. Then I smelled it. Peanut butter and jelly on cinnamon raisin toast. There was just something about that bread. It was like popcorn. The aroma tickled your brain.

Cracking open an eye, I saw Aaron Briskell sitting at the table. He had left that sandwich next to me with a Coke Zero and dug into his gigantic salad.

Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes and sat up. "Thanks."

He smiled. "Like I was going to allow my favorite union delegate to starve to death?"

I was a neonatal nurse and Aron worked in pediatrics. We weren't in the same department, but we saw each other enough to build a friendship. I had met his wife and son and he knew me well enough to know my favorite sandwich and soda. I considered him a friend, which is what I needed at that point.

When the hospital is horribly understaffed, there hasn't been a raise in years and there are rumblings about a strike, the nurses' union delegate becomes much more popular. Unfortunately, popular doesn't equate to well-liked. I had to look attentive as I listened to every complaint and had to say the same thing over and over again. There was something inherent in human nature that wouldn't accept someone saying they had no new news.

I rolled my eyes. "Not you too."

He raised his hands in a mock surrender with a half-smile. "I'm perfectly content to talk about the weather or music or anything else. Or not talk at all, Shelley, but when was the last time you got some serious sleep?"

"Oh, I don't know, fifteen, twenty years ago?"

Before I had taken leave and worked with Doctors Without Borders, I had been a union delegate for one of the largest hospitals in Los Angeles. When my husband's cheating inspired me to change up my life and get away from LA, I moved to Pueblo and found a job at a much smaller hospital. They had been looking to replace a retiring nurse who had been their delegate and to them, I was a godsend.

Aaron worked on his salad for a while and remained quiet. I enjoyed my sandwich, which was indeed my favorite and a call back to childhood. With a sigh, he put the lid back on his Tupperware, drank the last of his orange juice and looked at me.

"I checked your staffing. Surprisingly, coverage is pretty strong. Want to go back and take a nap? I know people are freaking out and they want answers to questions that you just don't have. I'll talk to them. We'll cover for you. Just go upstairs and close your eyes for a while."

I shook my head. "I appreciate it, but I'm fine. I've gone with less sleep in considerably worse situations. There is no shelling or mortars in Pueblo. This is light work."

He stared at me for a moment with a frown. "How often were you with them?"

I knew he was talking about Doctors Without Borders. "Four separate times over twenty years. Two for three months and two for six months."

"Okay. Don't push yourself too hard. Everyone's nervous. They're worried about money if they have to go on strike and nobody likes uncertainty, but they're good people. Remind them that you're human once in a while and they'll have your back."

The alarm on my watch went off. As I stood, I tried to give Aaron a ten for the lunch, but he refused to take my money.

"Thanks. It's good to sit down sometimes with a friend, not just a colleague."

When I got off the elevator, I saw a man waiting for someone's attention at the desk. He had his phone attached to his ear. The same man was doing exactly that before I left. He was a big guy and appeared meticulous, but not in a metrosexual sort of way. There was some gray at the temples and his hair was in a precise buzz cut. He dressed well. Clean and neat, more than fashionable. Missing his left arm, the sleeve on that side was patched up and pinned to the rest of the shirt. When I got close enough, I could hear what he was saying on the phone.

"Gus, you need to calm down. The baby's going to be here when the baby's going to be here. Shannon can't just hold it in. I promise you, everyone is here and we're going to be by her side until you arrive. It's going to be fine." There was a pause and then he continued. "Fine. I'll ask. Hold on."

He looked over at one of my colleagues who was staring at a computer screen.

"Ma'am? I'm sorry to bother you. Could you just please confirm that everything is okay with Shannon Poplin? I'm sorry, Shannon Kirschbaum."

I saw her put on the same plastic smile we all used when we were on the clock and speaking to a patient or family member for the hundredth time. "Of course." She looked back to the screen and then to the man. "Everything seems to be the same, sir. We'll notify you as soon as we have some information."

He raised his eyebrows as he gave her an apologetic smile. "Thank you. Sorry. My son... he has some difficulties accepting things if he's removed from the situation. I know, that doesn't make much sense. He's just, well, this is his first child and he's freaking out a bit."

I interrupted. "Sir, if it will help your son, feel free to tell him we will make a concerted effort to let you know as soon as there are any changes. Until then, you may find the waiting room to be more comfortable than pacing the halls."

"Yeah. Sure. Sorry."

I walked behind the desk and checked our mini fridge. I had two more Coke Zeros to get me through the rest of my shift. I was about to go check on the babies in an NICU when the nurse he was initially talking to called out to me.

"Shelley, have you been seeing anyone since you moved here?"

I raised an eyebrow. "No."

She dropped her voice. "Well, that guy's eyes were following your ass all the way to the fridge."

When I rolled my eyes, she laughed.

I wasn't sure if I had been trying to convince Aaron or myself about my time with Doctors Without Borders. Yeah, some of those days were rough. Very rough. But having lived through that did absolutely nothing to make today any easier. So, I threw on that fake smile and dealt with pervs who wanted to check me out while their grandchildren were waiting to be born and multiple generations of men thought it was okay to continually pester my colleagues because their son couldn't bother to be at the hospital but still insisted on constant updates.

The guy had looked decidedly middle-class and yet he practically reeked of a sense of privilege. I usually work four days a week, eleven hours a day. That almost seemed like a fond memory. Guys like that just made every hour tick by slower.

I saw him staring at me twice again before my shift was over. It happened. Guys are not known to be subtle. Under normal circumstances he would do his staring, I would roll my eyes and had about it five minutes later. Instead, I added it to my list of grievances against the world and got annoyed.

As I was finally leaving for the day, I was stopped as I got off the elevator by Henry Chow, the hospital's VP of something-or-another-that's-very-important. For a midsize hospital, they had a whole lot of management running around.

"Shelley! I'm so glad I ran into you. Could we get you to sit in on a meeting?" Henry looked at his watch. "It starts in about fifteen minutes. It's not even a real meeting, just some colleagues getting together to talk."

I shook my head. "Let me guess, half of those colleagues are in management and half will be nurses? Can't do it. I have an obligation tonight."

He had that wounded puppy dog look as he began to plead. "Look, I'll even buy dinner. Out of my own pocket. We just want to get together for a little while and bounce some ideas around so that we can avoid what everyone is seeing on the horizon. This isn't a big deal, just some people kicking around ideas. Can you give us twenty minutes? Half an hour, tops?"

I closed my eyes for a minute and sighed. "In half an hour I'm walking out the door."

He brightened. "You're the best. Absolute best."

He had a conference room waiting and had sandwiches brought in. There were three people from management and three nurses. They dutifully listened to our complaints and then sent up a test balloon about increased vacation days and possible bonuses based on profitability.

When we went back to our original sticking points of being understaffed and under compensated, they brought out the infamous B word.

"Shelley, I understand where you're coming from, and I agree. The nurses deserve better. Unfortunately, things aren't looking good financially. We are at the point where we were looking at possible bankruptcy."

They were so full of shit. "Mr. Cho, how many hospitals are there in the US?"

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. How many hospitals?"

"Yes. It's a simple question. Just take a guess."

"Five thousand?"

"It's a good guess. Not bad. The number's actually around sixty-one-hundred. Let's look at another number. Just after the peak of Covid, when all the bills came due and the federal government was slowing payments, how many hospitals do you think went bankrupt? I mean, the healthcare system had never seen a crisis like that. PPE's had been purchased, all hospital personnel were working almost round-the-clock, new equipment was acquired. That had to be the most stressful time for healthcare facilities infrastructure in... I don't know, maybe the last fifty years? Longer? So how many hospitals went bankrupt?"

He looked at me and shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Three dozen. Thirty-six hospitals in a worst-case scenario went bankrupt. Yes, bankruptcies happen. But the reality is that the numbers are minuscule. You really want us to believe that management thinks they might have to close the doors? I don't think so."

He stood and gave us a professional smile. "Well, you may want to do some digging and looking at the numbers. I appreciate everyone's time. Can we set up a formal meeting? I'd be happy to go over the financials in general terms."

I looked to the other nurses, who nodded back. "Sure. Go ahead. I really do have to get out of here. It was good to see everyone and to sit down and talk."

The rumblings were only getting louder and if we were going to go on strike, we had to give management and the state ten days warning. I'm sure they already had someone in charge of hiring and bringing in people from out of state. They'd have to pay them well and cover their transportation and lodging. It would be as expensive as hell for the hospital. I had hoped that they would just be reasonable, but this bankruptcy talk seemed like pure obstinance.

When I got to my car, I sat there with my eyes closed for a few minutes. I had picked at one of the sandwiches during the meeting but was suddenly starving. Not wanting to cook, I went through my mental Rolodex trying to figure out what I should order for dinner.

When I pulled into my driveway, there sat an answer to my culinary concerns. Dad was sitting in the old wooden chair on my patio. He had two plastic bags next to them and it was safe to assume that they were filled with food.

"Hey, Dad. I almost didn't recognize you. Those boat shoes are only one step away from being real, adult shoes."

He usually wore incredibly expensive flip-flops, which seemed like an oxymoron to me. Otherwise, his wardrobe consisted of Hawaiian shirts that he purchased from specialty shops and khaki shorts that went down past his knee.

"Just me. Your old man hauling over some dinner. You're home late. I hope you're hungry."

"We had a last-minute meeting. Where is Haliaka?"

He spoke as I unlocked and opened the door. "Working. She's doing a full audit this week."

Dad had gotten us sushi that we enjoyed while watching This Is Spinal Tap. When the movie was over, I wrote him a check.

"What's this for?"

"Half of what I owe you from the move."

"Get outta here. You don't owe me a thing."

"Take the money, Dad. It'll make me feel better. Besides, if you don't, I'm gonna use the money to buy you real clothes and pretend to be upset if you don't wear them."

He sighed, folded the check, and put it in his pocket. "So, tell me what's new and exciting at the hospital. How many babies did you save today?"

I told him what was going on with management and how badly I needed to sleep for about a month straight.

"You going to go to this meeting?"

"I don't have much of a choice. I'm the union delegate."

He smiled. "You know what would shock the hell out of them? Bring Haliaka. She should be a CFO for a Fortune 500 company and would be if her old boss hadn't been a sleaze. Let's see what she'll do when they start bullshitting you with their numbers."

That wasn't a bad idea. It wasn't bad at all.

STEVE

There are some things that you can't beat out of an old Marine. One of them was that once you're up, you're up. It was four-thirty in the morning, but once that phone rang, I answered immediately and was completely awake.

"Hello."

"Stephen? I'm sorry to call so early. This is Marianne. I was wondering --"

"Is it time?"

"Well yes, and I was hoping --"

"I'll be right there."

As I hung up on her I heard a bellowing from down the hall. "It's time!"

As I grabbed my go-bag I saw Pop running past me and down the stairs. He was in boxers and a white T-shirt. The door slammed open, and he was running next-door. Sighing, I quickly went to his room, grabbed a pair of pants and his sneakers, shoved them as best as I could into my bag and rushed outside.

My daughter-in-law was nothing if not stubborn. She had been determined to live in the house my son was given when our elderly neighbor passed away. It frustrated her rich and prissy mother to no end but since Shannon refused to bend, and the days grew closer, Marianne moved into the small house. She no doubt felt it was beneath her.

By the time I got to the driveway, Pop had his arm around Shannon as she walked towards our driveway and his Caddy. He had forgotten his pants and his shoes, but he had his keys. Typical.

The man had spent more than thirty years in the Marines, and you could hear every year as he barked orders at Marianne. With Shannon? With her he was as sweet and cuddly as a teddy bear.

"Honey, I could just pick you up and carry you over there. You're like a little bird. You don't weigh nothing."

She shook her head and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. "I'll be fine, Pop."

I put my bag on the ground next to the trunk. Pop tossed me the keys and I got in to start the car while Marianne put two bags next to mine. He gently helped Shannon into the backseat of the car and was about to follow when Marianne found her backbone.

"Get in the front."

Pop looked at her, but didn't move.

She continued. "Get in the front passenger seat, Mr. Kirschbaum. I'll sit in the back with my daughter."

Pop quickly threw the three bags into the trunk and got in next to me.

"What the hell you waiting on, let's get out of here."

I put the big Caddy in reverse as I spoke to Shannon. You okay, Shan? We're not far away. It'll just be a few minutes.

"I'm good. I'm good. They're just coming faster."

She didn't sound good. "That's great Shannon." I turned to my father. "You realize you're not wearing pants, right?"

He looked down at himself. "Shit."

Red lights and stop signs were treated the same. I'd slow down, look both ways and keep going. Like speed limits, they were very much optional when my grandchild was on the way. I probably broke some records getting to the hospital. I definitely broke some laws.

We pulled up in front of the emergency room doors and as we piled out, I realized that I wasn't even sure if that was where I was supposed to be. Should I have gone to the main entrance? Whatever. If we had to put her in a wheelchair and run her through some more hallways, we'd do it.

"Steve, toss me the keys," Pop called out. "You handle people better than I do. Get her in there and I'll park the car."

I looked at him as if he was crazy and then looked over at Marianne, who was already yelling for an orderly. "You think I'm going to get a word in edgewise while she's here?"

That got him to smile. "If you grabbed pants and shoes, leave them."

I took the go-bags from the trunk. There was mine and two for Shannon. Of course, Marianne didn't carry any of them. That's not who she was or what she did. My bag had some minor stuff from me, like a book and a phone charger, but mostly it had a change of clothes for Gus. As I walked past Marianne and the man she was talking to, Shannon doubled over in pain. I was immediately at her side.

"What can I do? Everything is going to be okay."

She managed to squeeze out some words. "Just need to breathe. It's okay. Have to breathe. Who called Dad? Someone called him, right?"

The man walked away from Marianne and was soon back with a wheelchair. We followed him in, got buzzed beyond the security doors, and were quickly led to an elevator. When we got out, he walked us through a boggling array of corridors and hallways.

We finally got to her private room and when a medical professional came in, the man that led us there escorted us out. Marianne was having none of it and refused to leave the doorway.

"Marianne, maybe this gentleman could show you who you need to speak to about Shannon's insurance and about the heart specialist."

She huffed and puffed, but finally walked away with the man. Looking over his shoulder, he mouthed 'thank you'. I gave him a thumbs up.

Shannon's voice echoed from the room. "Where's Gus?"

I stuck out like a sore thumb as I stood in the hallway outside of her room, three bags at my feet. I called back inside to her while trying to respect her privacy. "I don't know, Shannon. I'm sure Pop is reaching out to him right now."

I didn't know if it was a nurse, a nurse practitioner, or a doctor, but the medical person came out and told me I could go in. Shannon's expression was half-fear and half determination. I thought it was a little weird that she showed up and they already had a room ready and waiting for her. Then I realized that her mother, her stepfather and her aunt all had more money than Midas. They probably paid for one of the wings of the hospital or something.

"Do you need anything? Some water or something from your bag?"

"Can you call Aunt Liz? Tell her she needs to call Judge Sallister."

"A judge?"

She shook her head. "Not a judge, the judge. He's going to get Gus here."