I would have done the same thing if I was in her place, but the shock and disappointment hit me like the proverbial tonne of bricks.
"Josie, we've had the same conversation every six months for the last two years! You need to take some time off as you have built up almost five months of annual leave and your long-service leave is in play too. You're having a Summer holiday-- I'm writing you off for December and January."
"Nicola, no, please! I know all the young mums want December off- I'll take January, but I'll work Christmas so they can spend it with their families."
"Fine, January and February it is then."
At 32, I wasn't married to my life partner as such, I was married to my job. I had studied nursing straight out of school and had worked solidly since graduating. I found my niche in the Emergency Department at our regional hospital and two master's degrees later I am in a senior position. When I say I'm married to my job, I'm always the first person to put up their hand for overtime or double shifts and I never follow the advice I give to the more junior nurses: look after yourself or else you won't be able to look after your patients.
Colleagues had told Nicola that I was 'tetchy,' and I had snapped at a couple of frequent flyer patients once too often. I was clearly experiencing compassion fatigue and yet I was unable to realise this myself. I tried to go to a conference at least once a year and tack on a few days of leave around that, but I had not had a decent break in years.
My parents had divorced when I was 16 and my brother, Brad was 13. I later learnt Mum had been having an affair with the family vet. I thought our cat was getting old and needed regular check-ups, but it wasn't the only pussy receiving attention it would have seemed. I didn't learn about this until years later when my father told me in my last year at uni. It was what prompted me to move interstate when I graduated. Mum had always had 'moods,' but it wasn't until I learnt more about mental health in my studies that I realised she had a personality disorder.
Dad remarried and my relationship with my mother became further strained when I got on so well with Meg, my stepmother. Dad still worked as a doctor splitting his time between private practice and university lecturing which he was amazing at. He had encouraged me to follow him into medicine, but I only ever wanted to be a nurse. Meg's a nurse too and had been divorced too after her first husband had multiple affairs. Meg had been told she could not have children, so you can imagine the surprise when Stephanie arrived soon after my 21st birthday.
Mum had never remarried. She tells everyone Dad was the love of her life and she never forgave him for 'kicking her out' forgetting that he left her in a beautiful home with no mortgage. She never worked when we were growing up, however once she was left to pay her own bills after she had flittered away the money Dad gave her in the divorce, she got a job as a receptionist at an accounting firm. Then as a receptionist at a conveyancing firm and then, well, let's just say her personality traits make keeping a job challenging. I am still surprised Dad put up with her for as long as he did. If he wasn't so aloof and distant at times, lost in his own world I'm sure he would have left earlier.
Brad married Lissa a year or so back. He is also a doctor and Lissa a lawyer and they seem happy. Like me, Brad moved away from home after finishing school, choosing to study interstate. As for me, I had my heart broken several years ago. I thought Tim was the one. He was smart, he was funny, and he was gorgeous. He was a rep for a dressing manufacturer and whilst he was based where I was, he travelled for a couple of weeks each month and I realised he had different women in each town when two of them appeared on our doorstep within a week telling me of their pregnancies.
We had moved in together three years previously and Tim had always promised me he would marry me. He'd stop and look at rings with me in jewellers' windows. He was kind and caring when he was home and he was an amazing lover, but realising I wasn't his only love was devastating.
The night Eve knocked on our door Tim and I had been snuggling on the couch together watching a DVD.
"I'll get it!" Tim kissed me as he stood thinking it was the pizza delivery. "Jesus, Eve, what are you doing here?"
"Surprise!"
I heard the talking and came to investigate. Her face dropped.
"Eve, this is my partner, Josie, Josie, Eve. Um, how the fuck did you get my address, and what the absolute fuck are you doing here?"
Tim had put his arm around my shoulder. Eve looked like she was going to cry. She was a little younger than me with long red hair that she had tied back in a ponytail and a slight figure.
"I, um, I didn't know you had a partner. I feel sick," and with that Eve vomited all over our front doorstep.
"Honey, here, come inside and let me get you a drink and a towel to clean yourself up, I'm a nurse." I was confused, but I could see another woman in distress and knew she needed help.
Tim was swearing and it was a side of him I had never seen before. I got Eve a glass of water and cleaned her up and went to change my pants and socks that had been splattered with the contents of Eve's stomach. Confusion was an understatement. I had never seen this woman before, but she was obviously in distress and my job, I felt, was to help her.
"Of course it is!" I heard Eve sob as I walked back in seeing Tim pace the room.
"Hon, go and clean up the spew, I'll talk with Eve."
"Don't fucking listen to anything she says, she's fucking batshit crazy."
Eve again dissolved into more tears. Tim did not usually swear. I was more of a foul mouth than him after working in ED.
"Eve, I can see you are really upset about something. I don't know who you are or where you've come from, but I'd like to help."
"I'm a nurse too. I work in a surgical ward and I've driven five hours to see Tim. I didn't know he had a partner, I'm so sorry." Eve was again sobbing.
"Don't fucking listen to her Jo-babe, she's a fucking liar!" Tim screamed down the hall.
"I'm pregnant and Tim's the father."
"I told you Babe, she's fucking batshit!" Tim had again walked into the room and placed the pizza delivery on the coffee table in front of us.
The smell of the pizza set Eve off again and she managed to vomit into the bowl I had given her in case she was ill again.