Amanda knew this labyrinth like the back of her hand. She would go as far as to say she can navigate through the tough corners blindfolded, and she wore that confidence on her sleeve. This is what it means to pay off the debt you built up in nursing school by being naive within the white walls; once you're in, you learn everything.

"There are eyes everywhere," her mentor's words played in her head. "And I am not just talking about the cameras. Always keep your guard up."

Surely, it did not pertain to anything in particular. As far as Amanda's concerned, she is more scared of the living and the seen. 

People avoided this shift and she knew exactly why: it was the night before the Day of the Dead. It was not as if she had a choice; having less than 12 nurses on call that night and the night differential pay, the final stretch she needed to get through the end of the month's bills and cover her stacked responsibilities back home. 

"Any operations today, Melvin?" she asked once she reached the table of the non-restricted area of the operating room. 

"Just one," Melvin answered. "An appendectomy. The surgeon's still on his way up. Start preparing OR-A2 while Sarah's still here for the sterilized materials." She nodded and gave Melvin a small salute before heading inside to change into her scrubs. 

"Hey, Sarah, I need these materials for – oh." Amanda stopped, realizing she was face-to-face with an empty table and cloths, with sterilized materials on racks. On the far end of the glass screen separating the entrance from the smaller room for the sharps, there was a sticky note: 

“Ada, I've gone home, sorry! Huge emergency. Prepped the OR for you before I left! Goodluck! XO -Sarah”

The room was prepared exactly like how Sarah said it would be. She found it odd how there was only one surgical gown on the table. Then again, she never really had an idea how many were scrubbing in today. Looking at the rate of the time on the clock and the number of nurses left, she might as well be doing the circulating role, too. Amanda wasn't gowned yet, so she decided to take one more from the storage just in case. She was about to leave the room when all of a sudden—

Rattle. Rattle. Creak. 

She knew that sound: a rolling mayo table. 

"Melvin? Are you there?" Deafening silence. 

How she could hear the ringing in her ears did not help with the growing lump on her throat as the realization slowly dawned on her; she was alone in the area. Amanda decided to go back inside and wait for the surgeon there. The lights were on in the room, so she felt more assured as she walked back. 

She stopped halfway because there it was—the second surgical gown, lying on the center of the OR table.

She ignored the cold sweat rolling down at the back of her neck and the slight wobble in her knees. She ignored the small pit-pat of footsteps she could hear from the back. She ignored the way her eyes slowly darted from left and right to check—just to really check—if anyone was actually there. 

No one was. 

She wanted to back out; to dash right out of the room and leave the operation be. A nurse would replace her, and the night differential was not even worth the loud voices in her head telling her to run while her feet were glued to the floor. 

Whatever it was, it enjoyed seeing Amanda like this: scared and weak. It fed on the slight trembling of her shoulders and it was certain it could get frostbite from Amanda's cold hands. 

It wanted more: more of that fear; of that ache; of that cold, grim feeling as Amanda carefully took a step back after hearing another set of footsteps—closer this time—and another notable rattle from the opposite room. She brisk-walked straight out of the operating room, still in her scrubs, and left the materials untouched. Someone would clean it up tomorrow; she could put her scrubs in the laundry and sanitize her shoes because she wanted nothing more than to be out. 

She was out of breath the moment she swung the doors open. She tried composing herself as her fingers shook uncontrollably, resting her palms on her knees, half-bent, and staring at the floor. 

Ding!

The sound made her look up for a second, and for a minute, she caught a glimpse of it: Melvin at the desk, arranging papers, facing away from her. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Mel-"

Ding!

It was her phone. She halted in the middle of calling him to check her messages. Her blood ran cold as she read:

“This is Melvin. Operation canceled, Ada. I didn't have the time to check on you at A2, I got called for a bedside. I left right after. Don't forget to return the materials! Take care, I'll see you tomorrow.”

- Allyah Jenris C. Allam
(Illustration by Erica Camille Africa/FEU Advocate)