Almonds, Tea, and Tenderness
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It was 6:43 PM on Hearth’s Warming Eve, and Nurse Redheart sat in her office, trying not to think.
A dusty, miniature Hearth’s Warming tree sat on her desk. She prodded at its artificial branches, and one of the ornaments, a hand-painted glass bell, jingled sweetly. It was the family ornament from last year, from the hoof-made set that Aunt Bristle made for everyone. Everypony had unwrapped them together during the big family get-together back in Manehattan. Nurse Redheart had received hers in the mail.
She looked at the clock. It was now 6:44 PM on Hearth’s Warming Eve. She sighed and decided to start her rounds a minute early.
The office chair scraped loudly against the floor as she pushed back from her desk and stood up. She thought to herself, ‘Remember: smile.’ It almost felt natural, like it was supposed to, and she made sure to brighten her eyes to be extra-convincing.
She stepped out into the hallway, where the staff had hung the same paper decorations that they put up every year. Doctor Vaccine waved as he put on his peacoat, a broad smile on his face. “Thanks for taking the holiday shift again, Nurse R. My kid’ll be so happy I get to celebrate with them.”
“No trouble at all,” Nurse Redheart replied, straining to maintain her smile. She felt hollow, like she was watching a parade where none of the floats would throw her candy. “Happy Hearth’s Warming.”
“To you, too,” Doctor Vaccine said. He grabbed a stylish hat from the rack, put it on in one smooth motion, and was out the door into the calm, snowy night.
The door closed with a tiny clack, and Nurse Redheart watched it for several moments. She shook her head, turned, and trotted down the hallway with practiced confidence.
The halls were darker than usual, lit only with the lights required by government regulation. That had felt like a victory for Nurse Redheart – she’d spent many long nights writing letters and petitioning committees to let them turn the lights down slightly, not because it was convenient or for environmental reasons, but because it made the patients feel better.
She smiled at herself, for real, and said softly aloud, “And the better the patients felt, the sooner they’re back with their families.”
Nurse Redheart turned to the first occupied room. She felt herself frowning, but at the last moment, she reminded herself, 'You're here for them. They're the important ones.' She knocked quietly but firmly on the door as she walked in. “Good evening, Missus Almond. How are you feeling?”
Missus Almond looked up from her crocheting. Her silver mane was frizzy and thin, and her voice was as creaky as her joints. “Eh, I’ll be better once my lungs clear up.” She coughed twice. “But m’ grandkids are swingin’ by soon. Ain’t gonna be so bad.” Her face tightened in a small sneer, and she quickly returned to her needles and yarn. “Long as I can finish this dang scarf for Nutmeg in time. Hoo-ee.”
Nurse Redheart chuckled politely and examined Missus Almond’s vitals. “I’m sure she’ll love it, even if it’s not quite done yet.” An image bubbled up in her mind: a family picture from three years ago with her parents, sisters, and brother all in new, matching scarves, with an one extra scarf displayed on a nearby chair. She pushed that thought away. “And it looks like it’s coming along nicely.”
Missus Almond grinned. “You’re a sweetie.” Her voice and expression went flat. “But you’re also a distraction. Just shoot me up with whatever potion y’ got and lemme be.”
Nurse Redheart laughed quietly one more time, then proceeded to adjust Missus Almond’s medicine drip, document her vitals, and turn down the volume on some of the constantly-beeping machines (which made Missus Almond release the tension in her shoulders, probably without realizing). The whole time, Nurse Redheart moved slowly and with purpose. Without another word, she slipped out just as a smile broke out on Missus Almond’s face. “By gum, I might just finish.”
Nurse Redheart stopped outside the room and let her head hang low, just long enough to do three things. First, she said a little prayer for grandmother. Second, she apologized again to her family. Third, she repeated aloud for the twenty-sixth time that day, "The more I'm here, the more ponies can be out there."
A baby cried from a few rooms down, so she grabbed a clean pacifier from the pediatrics cabinet and cantered towards the noise. Shaking out the fuzz in her brain, she remembered who was in the room.
A pre-adolescent colt lay fidgeting on the hospital bed, which sported generic, faded race car sheets. He clung to a wrapped gift with his one unbroken foreleg. Next to his bed sat a frazzled-looking pair of adult earth ponies with bloodshot eyes. The gray stallion fiddled with a camera, eyes twitching, as he tried to get it on a tripod. The light-green mare softly cooed at the crying filly that rocked in her forelegs, unable to keep the slight groan out of her voice. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, Honeysuckle. It’s okay. It’s time to be quiet now.”
Nurse Redheart cleared her throat. “Hello, Tea family. You look like you could use some assistance.”
The mare looked up at her with wide, pleading eyes. “Yes, please.”
The stallion mumbled something. His face was mere inches from the camera, which clicked and clacked and made several indiscernable noises.
The mare looked to her husband and addressed him with the same cooing, slightly raspy voice. “It’s okay, Earl. If we don’t get the picture, we don’t get it.”
The stallion, Earl Grey, grunted. “This f–” He pursed his lips, took a deep breath, and sighed. “Yeah, okay. You’re right, Jasmine.” He looked the to colt, who was scratching at his cast-covered. "Sorry, Silver. Want me to get your scratchin' stick?"
The colt, Silver Needle, frowned. "I want to open my present!" His cheeks were flushed. "And I want this stupid cast off," he pouted.
Jasmine took a shuddering breath, like she was about to scream, but Nurse Redheart stepped in and nodded at her. "Why don't you two go grab some coffee from the Nurse's lounge while I look after the foals." She winked at Earl. "It isn't great, but it's better than what you can get from the machine."
Earl ran a hoof across the bags under his eyes. "That's sweet, Nurse, but you really don't have to–"
"I SAID YES PLEASE!" Jasmine roared as she stood and passed Honeysuckle to Nurse Redheart. Jasmine raced out of the room.
Earl stood and stretched his back. "I'll, uh…" He made a move to the door. "I should go check on her.” He rushed out behind her. “Uh, Sugar Cube?"
Nurse Redheart shook her head with a smile and sat down in Jasmine's chair. She said to Silver, "You're a good big brother, you know. I don't think I've ever seen such a patient colt."
Silver Needle grimaced wide. "So I'm a patient patient?"
Nurse Redheart laughed out loud. "Haha! And a very clever one, too." She tenderly rocked Honeysuckle and gave her the pacifier, and soon, Honeysuckle had calmed down.
Nurse Redheart rocked her back and forth. The foal started drifting off to sleep, and Nurse Redheart couldn't help but be reminded of her nephew, Stitch. He'd been about this size the last time she'd seen him, but he would be three years old by now. Or was it four?
"You're sad," came Silver's voice, snapping her out of her reverie. "Why are you sad?"
Nurse Redheart felt her throat tighten up, but she waved a hoof and shook her head. "Oh, I'm doing fine, Silver. No need to worry." She forced a smile.
Silver frowned. "Daddy says you're not supposed to lie, especially on Hearth's Warming Eve." He looked her up and down. "Why are you sad? Your legs are all fine."
Nurse Redheart felt words rise up into her throat, words about home and family and unfairness, but she stopped herself. There wasn't anything unfair about it. She'd volunteered. She always volunteered, even if she hadn’t really wanted to. Who would? But it’s her nature, she told herself. It's what she does. So what if it got harder every year? So what if she felt more like a pinata than a pony? So what if–
"I hope you can have a happy holiday," Silver said softly, running his good hoof over the present in slow circles. "Do you…” He looked up with wide eyes. “Do you need a present?"
Nurse Redheart scolded herself. 'Get a grip!' She gave him the warmest smile she could muster. "You're an absolute treasure, Silver, and your parents would be very proud. But no, I don't need your gift."
He flopped backwards onto the bed. "Oh thank Celestia!"
Nurse Redheart chuckled. "All I need is for you to enjoy the holidays and appreciate your family. They're more important than you know." She leaned in slightly. "Do you think you can do that for me?"
Silver nodded emphatically and clutched his present, right as his parents walked in. They each had coffee in their hooves, and they looked a little less crazed than before. 'Worth it,' Redheart thought to herself. After she passed Honeysuckle to a relieved-looking Jasmine, she quickly reached over and snapped the camera to the tripod and walked out the door, leaving Earl completely aghast.
As she walked down the hall, she heard the sounds of crinkling paper behind her, followed by Silver shouting, "No way! A Wonderbolts helmet!" She sighed with contentment.
And immediately felt exhaustion crash into her like a wave.
She sat down at a desk in the hallway, dizzy, and shook out her mane.
She gave herself a moment.
In the dim hospital hallway.
With nopony else around.
"Heh," she chuckled. She spoke only to fill the silence. "Remember when you wanted to go into pediatrics? Dodged a heck of a bullet there. Heh…" She looked around and felt hollow again. "Ugh." She let her forehead slump and hit the desk, and the loud thud echoed down both sides of the hallway.
She drew in a deep breath and let it out in an exasperated sigh. She couldn't remember how many times she had done that already tonight. It felt like the last big sigh of the day, right before bed, but over and over again, she felt like she was being dropped back at the start of a marathon.
"It's my job," she whispered as she stood up and stretched out her stiff neck. She still had one more room to check on these rounds before she could get back to counting the holes in the ceiling. Number 700,000 was coming up, and she couldn’t bear her growing excitement.
She lugged herself over to the last room on the left. The light was on, and she glanced at the name on the clipboard outside – Tender Touch, here for a minor burn and an infection. Nurse Redheart swallowed hard, and one more time, she plastered a smile on her face as she walked in. "Good evening, Tender Touch. How is your wing feeling?"
Tender Touch, a light-blue pegasus with a curly white mane, looked up from her book. She was an adult, but a young one, and she lay on her back at an awkward angle with her wing bundled up in bandages. Tender smiled at her. "Oh, hey! Happy Hearth's Warming, Nurse…?"
"Redheart. It's a pleasure to meet you." She walked to Tender's side and looked over the bedside notes left by the doctor. "Looks like you're doing well, and I can discharge you once somepony shows up to take you home."
Tender nodded. "Yeah. My dad's coming after work. Heh." She blushed. "It's my fault he has to work late tonight." She jerked her head back towards her wing. "I was trying to prep the meal this morning, and, well… turns out I'm no chef. He had to bring me here in a cart."
"I'm sure he's just happy that you're okay." Nurse Redheart grabbed a stethoscope and listened to Tender's chest. "Your breathing sounds healthy and strong. That's a good sign."
"Ha! I'd hope so. I'd hate to get a pneumonia diagnosis on top of all the other hassle, but I think I'll be okay. My vitals have been normal, and I haven't noticed any swelling anywhere." She looked directly at Redheart. "So, drew the short straw this year?"
Nurse Redheart felt her chest tighten. "What do you mean?"
"You know, the holiday shift. You got stuck working tonight. Don't get me wrong," Tender said with a shrug. "I'm glad somepony's here to keep us all healthy, but it can't be much fun."
Nurse Redheart's neck felt hot. "I… really don't mind. In fact, I volunteered." She broke eye contact and went back to measuring Tender's breathing, even though she had all the information she needed.
Tender smirked. "Really? Because that didn't sound too confident."
Nurse Redheart's head swam. Her brain felt fuzzy, and she felt her teeth grind. With a jarring change in tone, she asked, "So, what do you do?" She jokingly added, "When you're not being an experimental chef?" It came out stilted.
With a stretch of her neck, Tender replied, "Student. Wrapping up next semester." Without missing a beat, she added, "Hey, you sure you're okay? My resting heart rate hasn't changed in the last two minutes."
"Look, kid" Redheart snapped. She quickly gasped and covered her face. All the heat in her body chilled instantly. "Tender, I am terribly sorry. I didn't mean to–"
Tender waved her hoof nonchalantly. "You're fine, Nurse."
Redheart shook her head. "No, no." She sighed. "That was incredibly inappropriate of me. I'm sorry."
Tender cocked her head and though a moment. She shrugged again, like somepony had taken the cookie that she’d maybe sort of considered thinking about eating. "Like I said, you're fine. But I'll tell you what." She motioned to the bedside chair. "You can make it up to me by telling me what's up."
Nurse Redheart groaned.
Tender laughed. "Or… You can probably get out of it by saying you need to finish your rounds."
"No, it's alright." Nurse Redheart wrapped up writing her notes onto Tender's information sheet. "You're free to go once your dad gets here, but I'm happy to keep you company for a bit." She sat in the chair.
Tender smiled. "I'll take what I can get." She shifted the weight off her burned wing, and she said, "So. Holidays. Bit of a sore spot?"
Nurse Redheart groaned and looked at the floor. 'Why did I agree to this?' She realized what she was doing and snapped back up to smile.
But Tender rolled her eyes. "You don't have to pretend to be Super Nurse around me. Honestly, it's a bit creepy." She waved her hoof. "Go ahead and be real. I think it'll help me recover faster."
Nurse Redheart blinked. She tried and failed to break the artificial smile on her face. "I… don't know if I know how."
Tender threw her head back. "Ha! Silly." She tapped the bed for emphasis. "You said you volunteered to work tonight. Why in Equestria would somepony do that? Nopony to celebrate with?"
Nurse Redheart's jaw felt like it was welded shut, but with a lot of effort, she said, "Not… exactly. I have family – a big one – but they're all back in Manehattan.” She glanced towards the window, her voice softer. “It's a long, long ways away."
Tender nodded. "Ah. So you only make the trip every other year or so?"
Nurse Redheart bit the inside of her cheek. She felt like she was on stage with a spotlight on her. The words were slow to come. "Well, no. I've taken the holiday shift for several years now."
Tender raised an eyebrow. "How's that work? That seems super unfair."
Nurse Redheart shrugged meekly. "I really don't mind."
"Nu-uh. Noooo." Tender shook her head. "Nopony just volunteers to work the holidays because they 'don't mind.' There's something else going on here."
For a moment, Nurse Redheart thought about Missus Almond being unable to finish her scarf. She imagined Silver Needle being stuck in the hospital all winter, and she could practically see the disappointment on the faces of Doctor Vaccine's foals if they found out their dad wasn't going to be with them on Hearth's Warming Eve. "Because it's my job to keep ponies out of the hospital."
There was a beat.
After a breath, Tender said, "Say more about that."
Nurse Redheart looked up. "I'm here to care for ponies of all kinds. You're right: nopony wants to be here on the holidays." She rubbed her chin. "Except for maybe that Priest guy. He always overdoes it on the holiday salt block and then stumbles in to hit on me." She focused back on Tender. "I know how hard it is to miss out on big family events. I missed several when I was in nursing school." Her voice grew quieter. "And I don't want anypony else to feel that way. I don't care if they're patients or staff. They're ponies, and when I signed up for this job, I vowed to help ponies leave the hospital as fast as they could. That means everypony."
Her chest felt lighter than it had in a while. The world still seemed heavy, and she could still almost hear her family singing carols and opening gifts from hundreds of miles away, but saying it all out loud helped. It reminded her of what mattered to her, why she did it all in the first place, and she looked up to Tender. And she smiled. "So that's why I volunteer. I give up the holidays so others can enjoy them. And I’m okay with that." As sad as she was, her heart warmed, and she felt the slightest bit of peace.
"That's dumb," Tender responded with a flat look.
Nurse Redheart reeled. "Excuse me?"
Tender shrugged. "That's a super dumb way to look at it. I mean, yeah, I get the sentiment, and sure, there's honor in the whole self-sacrificing bit, but it's also pretty dumb."
Nurse Redheart shook out her mane. "I'm… what?"
"I mean, look at you. You're burned out, just like half the other nurses in Equestria, and it's affecting you. Bad." She softened her tone. "And like, I don't mean to rub it in, but if you're at the point where you're snapping at patients who ask about your holiday plans, then you gotta know it’s a problem, right?"
Redheart looked everywhere but at Tender. "I'm… I'm f-fine."
"You're more than fine," Tender replied. "You're good at your job, and you care almost too much about everypony else. But… maybe you can try caring for yourself a bit, too?"
Nurse Redheart was stunned. She knew, at least in theory, about the importance of self-care. She'd talked to countless patients about that very thing. But why was it so hard for her to apply that same lesson to herself? "I'm… I'm not sure I can."
Tender flopped back onto the bed and winced slightly at her wing. "Well, not much you can do about it this year, I guess." She rolled her head towards Redheart. "But maybe next year? Can you at least tell me you'll think about taking care of yourself next year?"
Nurse Redheart's mouth hung open. Her mind twisted and turned as she tried to imagine herself asking for time off next year, like she was staring at a puzzle that was missing half its pieces.
A boisterous, male voice boomed from just outside. "Ready to go, baby?" A portly stallion with the same coat color as Tender shuffled into the room, wearing a scarf and with his shoulders covered in a light coating of snow. "Oh, hey there, nurse! Glad to see you taking care of my little baby while I was away. We all good to go?"
Nurse Redheart paused, then looked back at Tender. She slipped back into her professional persona. "Yep! You're both free to go, and I hope you have a happy Hearth's Warming."
The stallion beamed. "You heard the lady, Tendy! Up ya' go." He reached out a hoof and helped Tender stand.
Nurse Redheart quickly filled out the discharge paperwork as Tender and her father gathered her things. Redheart found herself staring intently at the paper, still trying not to think, but as Tender and her father left the room, she finally looked up.
Tender had stopped in the doorway, a small frown on her face. The two mares shared a long look, and Nurse Redheart felt like all the warmth was about to leave the room.
But Tender smiled and said, "Think about it?"
Meekly, Nurse Redheart said, "I'll try."
"Good," Tender replied with a smile. She put on a warm winter hat. "You've got a year to figure it out." With that, she left, and Redheart was alone in the hospital room.
She stacked the paperwork. Her hooves moved automatically, like she was nothing more than a robot. She didn't feel hollow anymore, just lost, like she was in a room she'd never seen before. Her mind was blank. She wandered around, idly checking equipment, changing the sheets, and cleaning up for the next pony that needed the bed.
The snow fell softly outside, and Nurse Redheart stopped to look. Setting her work down, she moved to the window and hoisted two hooves onto the window sill. The room faced east – even if she couldn't see it, she was looking towards her family out in Manehattan, and she wondered if they were already done with dinner. Her tail flicked back and forth slowly, and she tried to tried to imagine what it would be like to actually be home for the holidays.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
She had tried to imagine it for nearly a year.
Nurse Redheart sat in her office, three weeks before Hearth’s Warming, staring at the box that contained her artificial Hearth’s Warming tree. She usually had it all set up by now, and she even had her new ornament ready – Aunt Bristle had mailed her a beautiful hoof-painted dove that hung among crystal droplets. It looked beautiful, and she wondered if it would stand out on a life-sized tree.
She knew all the steps she could take to see her family, of course. She’d rehearsed it in her head hundreds of times: walk to the schedule manager, ask for the time off, and sign herself up for a different shift. Individually, the steps all sounded small, but Nurse Redheart could feel the avalanche of habit barreling towards her.
With a resigned sigh, she pushed her chair back with a loud scrape and walked out into the hallway.
The decorations were the same as they were every year, just a little more faded. Ponies bustled about, monitoring the health of all the patients and doing their best, as always, to get as many ponies healthy as they could before the holidays.
Nurse Redheart’s walked down the hall without thinking about it. She opened the door to the management office without thinking about it. And, without thinking about it, she told the manager that she wanted the holiday shift again this year.
The manager looked down at her calendar. “Oh, that’s already been filled.”
Nurse Redheart snapped to attention. “Excuse me?” She set a hoof on the desk. “There must be some mistake. I take the holiday shift every year.”
The pony behind the desk adjusted her big, sparkly glasses and looked at the papers in front of her. “Well, it looks like somepony beat you to it this year. One of the new staff, just started this week, even.” She squinted. “Nurse Tender, it looks like?”
Nurse Redheart’s jaw dropped.
And it dropped further when she heard a voice behind her say, “C’mon, I gave you a year.” Nurse Redheart lifted a hoof to turn around, but then stopped. She was stunned, but she forced herself to look. Behind her, standing in scrubs, was Tender Touch. She smirked. “So did you figure it out yet?”
Nurse Redheart’s eyes were wet. “You… You’re taking my shift?”
“Hm-hm!” Tender chuckled. “It’s not your shift this year. Remember what you said? It’s a nurse’s job to get everypony out of the hospital by Hearth’s Warming Eve.” She stepped up to Redheart and put a hoof on her shoulder. “That means everypony.”
Redheart gasped, barely holding back tears. “Tender, you can’t! You have to spend the holidays with your father!” She shook her head. “I-I don’t know what to say.”
Tender Touch, true to her name, hugged Redheart gently. “Don’t be dumb. Just say that you’re going to take care of yourself for once, and that you’ll buy train tickets to Manehattan right after work today.”
Redheart’s smile quivered and grew. Deep in her heart, she felt an excitement, a joy, that she hadn’t felt in years. “I… I’ll... “
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It was 6:43 PM on Hearth’s Warming Eve, and Nurse Redheart sat in her family’s home in Manehattan, surrounded by her loved ones and thinking about all the joy this night would bring.
