The Uniform And The Scrubs

“Where the hell is he?” Ann Gail busted out of the shady grey area, welcoming the sunlight where Sister Florence stood tall replacing the campus map, guiding confused souls through academic questions.

“He has returned to your proposal location,” Sister Florence hinted pointing towards the University chapel.

Taking a breath, the decade long registered dedicated nurse, minded her peace, thanking Sister Florence for the direction, now confidently prepared, ready to confront any harsh relationship realities.

Blood stains decorated her blue scrubs, while tennis sneakers squeaked along, quieted when interacting with the indoor church carpet.

Opening the door, she quickly placed her finger, stirring the blessed water, consuming its magical power, applying the cooling sensation, crossing herself, dialing up the higher spiritual authority, “Knight? Are you here?” A timid voice requested, as the holy liquid sweated the situation out.

“I do not know who you are anymore,” a figure peered up, rising from a kneeling position.

Engulfing the worshipping center’s air conditioning Ann Gail continued listening, “look at you, Ann Gail, a bloody mess.”

“I am working,” Ann Gail honestly replied, approaching her husband, using the aisle as a path, “Knight,” the health caring individual acknowledged her well-dressed groom she married, once degrees were conferred, “we have enough in the bank account.”

Straightening his tie Knight gave one more glance, as the man hanging on the wooden T with absolutely nothing except his torturous message, gave him the green light.

“May I join you?” Ann Gail requested, “I think we need counseling,” she clarified slipping into the small wooden seated confines.

“Ann Gail, I read and study financial numbers every day, wearing this office uniform,”

“Brooks Brothers military fatigues,” Ann Gail interpreted.

“I am dressed for success,” Knight defended his commerce calling.

Digesting the comment Ann Gail leaned back straightening her spine, “your bottom line?”

“You even said our savings account is fine,” Knight started, “people select me since they trust my appearance.”

“And my appearance does not suggest morally honest?”

“It sort of looks like you just woke up,” Knight honesty observed.

“To do what?” Ann Gail asked forcing the conversation silent, “tend to people who are lying in bed.”

Hearing the logical explanation, Knight tightened his lip, “you’ve gotten too casual.”

“This is South Florida!”

A few years following Knight joining Ann Gail, making professional commitments, a decision was implemented, transitioning nurses’ dress code from uniforms to operating scrubs, creating a more relaxed presentation. This change bothered the corporate oriented Knight, and the tension put pressure on the relationship as little things started chipping away.

Suddenly a disruption disturbed the flowing fountain basin, performing soothing and calming duties, “Father Andreas,” Ann Gail called seeing a priest emerge.

“Knight,” Father Andreas paused, “Ann Gail, what are you two doing here?”

“Getting counseling,” Knight expressed, signaling the cross.

“Now I know it's none of my business,” Father Andreas addressed,

“It is your business,” Ann Gail corrected, “you married us.”

“Yes,” Father Andreas agreed, “a loving partnership bonded in our scholastic beliefs.”

As the pair just stared, Father Andreas added, “let me guess technology has taken over, everything is done by machines these days.”

“It keeps patients alive,” Ann Gail noted.

“That is right Ann Gail,” Father Andreas confirmed, “and Knight things are easily accessible, and you are awarded extra time to do other things,”

“Like?” The pair inquired in unison.

“We haven’t been notified about any scheduled baptisms,” Father Andreas informed, “do something nice daily.”

“Father Andreas,” Knight spoke up, “do you think Ann Gail should wear a uniform?”

Turning around Father Andreas smiled fixing his collar, “do you see me wearing colorful robes all the time?”