Sweep Me Off My Feet

“Yes, it is definitely dangerous to bring a patient home, but you see what point I am making here, Jackson? I take my work home because I have to and if I don’t, nothing is ever going to get done and you cannot take your work home because it is, first of all, not practical and two…” Michael’s voice trailed off. “I guess there is only one reason.”

Jackson took another sip of his tea and exhaled loudly.

“Did you ever think of getting yourself a constant bedtime?”

Michael took another sip of his coffee and shook his head.

“I don’t know if you have noticed it or not, but I am not five years old anymore.”

“No, I am not telling you to go to bed at eight or anything like that. What I mean is, have a written rule that if you begin your day at eight, then you will be done by seven, and back at your place by ten,” Jackson said.

“That is literally how my day goes,” Michael said, raising an eyebrow over the other.

“Wait. Let me finish,” Jackson went on. “The main problem is that you bring your work home with you, and as a result, you have longer days and shorter nights. What I do is get home after a crazy schedule, take a melatonin, and then have a shower before I go to bed.” He sipped on his tea proudly. “I get a good solid nine hours every single night. It would have been eight, but I make sure to get dinner at work or on the way home.”

Michael took a sip of his coffee and sighed loudly.

“Right now I don’t think a good night’s sleep is going to sort out my problems.”

Jackson put a finger up.

“On the contrary, a good night’s sleep is everyone’s medicine and if you have a hard time falling asleep, then do what I do. Take a melatonin when you get home and bam! A good solid eight, nine, or even ten hours. You wake up feeling like a million bucks.”

Michael forced a smile. Jackson seemed especially proud of himself. You would have thought that he was celebrating discovering sliced bread…or maybe electricity going by the grin on his face.

“J.J., seriously? A melatonin?” Michael asked, raising an eyebrow over the other. ‘

“Trust me on this. There is nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.” Jackson leaned forward. “Get a load of this. Last week, some guy came in with cold symptoms and then before we knew it, he slipped into a coma. No one was the wiser, but I came in, a mere intern, and suggested a head CT. Now, normally, we would only do that if the patient had been involved in an accident, but there was not even a bruise on his face. But did I let that stop me? Hell no. I fought for my patient and guess what?”

Michael shrugged.

“I don’t know what to say, dude,” he said.

“Thank you would be nice,” Jackson said, matter of factly before he sipped on his latte.

Michael exhaled loudly and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Well, much as I would like to have a long, relaxing nap right now, I don’t think I could even if I tried. There is too much going on right now.”

“Is that why I found you burning a hole in your carpet when I arrived?” Jackson asked, and Michael sighed loudly rather than answer. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Michael took a long sip of his coffee before he looked up at Jackson.

“I feel like my world is coming to an end, bro,” he said after a long minute of silence.

“Why? Is it something I can help with? You know you can talk to me, right?” Jackson asked, and Michael shrugged.

“Not unless you have a public relations company I don’t know about.”

“You are struggling with a PR crisis? How did I not know about that?” Jackson wondered out loud.

“Well, you have been a lot busier lately and I don’t blame you but a lot has been happening here like the fact that I am being accused of being racist,” Michael said as he got up again.

Every single time he thought about the allegations, he just couldn’t bear to sit down. It was like the allegations caused him to have actual needles on his chair. The actual thorn in his side in this case was everything that had been happening lately.

“Racist? You?” Jackson raised an eyebrow over the other. “They do know who you are, right? Michael O’Brien? The man who spent a big chunk of his paycheck to set up a community center for the disadvantaged and underprivileged? The humanitarian billionaire?”

“As it turns out, that action has been seen as one of the many ways I am trying to get my ass out of the fire that is already under it. I am telling you, J.J., my ass right now, is pure fu*king coal,” Michael said angrily. “I mean, I gave called a press conference and gave my two cents: my human resources team handled the hiring. All I do is sketch the designs.”

Jackson shook his head.

“I’m guessing that did not work too well,” he said. and Michael looked at him, fury all over his face.

“You think?” he asked. reaching for his phone. “My assistant had set up alerts for me just to keep me abreast with everything going on. but I wish he didn’t. Take a look at this.” He handed Jackson his phone and watched as his best friend raised an eyebrow as he looked at the many posts on Michael and his company. Seeing how Jackson reacted was a reminder of just how badly screwed up things were, not that he needed one anyway. “I don’t know how I am going to handle this and I am not saying that this could ever happen at a good time. but seriously, this is the absolute worst time this could happen.”