I’ve been a nurse for six years. Long shifts, aching feet—but I love it. It’s where I feel
I truly matter. But today brought back memories I’d rather forget. I walked into the ER,
chart in hand. Then I looked up, His eyes widened when he saw me. A quick glance at my
nose—he remembered. In school, he made my life miserable: “Big Becca,” “Toucan Sam.”
But now, he was the one needing help. “Becca? Wow… it’s been a while. ”What happened to your wrist?”
I asked, keeping my voice neutral. “Basketball injury. Just a sprain, I think.
”I stayed professional, though memories lingered. As I wrapped his wrist, he laughed softly.
“Karma’s funny, huh? You taking care of me after all that. ”Then, quietly: “I’m sorry.
For everything. ”An apology—from him? Part of me wanted to revisit the pain, but the
nurse in me kept focused. “Well,” I said, “I appreciate that. ”X-rays confirmed a fracture.
As I fitted his cast, he said, “I hope one day you’ll believe I’m really sorry.
”I met his gaze. “Take care of that wrist. ”And with that, I walked away, knowing I’d already won—on my own terms
