“We’ll get your results to you by the end of the week,” Dr. Elizabeth Dickerson told the 22-year-old pregnant patient who sat up from the exam table. “Baby is coming along just fine; rest assured. Keep taking your prenatal and manage your stress.” She gave a humble smile, took off her gloves, and exited the room. She headed to the sink to wash her hands for what seemed like the millionth time that day. Her hands were cracked, cuticles frayed, nails scraggly. She headed to her office, sat down, and consulted a textbook on a recent case she’d seen.

Latrice and Kyra counted to three then hoisted the elderly woman into the wheelchair. “Ow,” the woman clamored as they sat her down. Latrice was too busy looking in the mirror to notice that the woman’s side had been scratched. “Quit complainin,” Latrice said mockingly to the woman. Kyra was staring at her phone as she walked to the next room of the nursing home. She rubbed her low back with her other hand.

RJ Nail Spa was busy that day. Ernie counted the money at the register, again disappointed that the bulk of the day’s revenue would go toward rent and supplies. Then there were employee wages. It left almost nothing for him to send back home to his parents in Vietnam. At least here in the US he could save some of the money.  He looked up and saw a few new customers come in. Chi-Chi and Wan were at their desks servicing other customers. “Chi-Chi, you take her,” he said, pointing to the young woman who had walked in. “She needs new manicure.” Chi-Chi agreed but sighed inwardly. She wanted to get out of this dark slum and do something else with her life. At 20, she should be in college, not working for minimum wage in this place. Ernie took the customer who needed the other manicure. He was good at manicures. Wan sat serving the other client.

That Saturday Dr. Dickerson decided to finally go ger her nails done. It had been a long time. Her mentor in med school had always said “patients notice your nails. Take care of them.” Dr. Dickerson thought she’d be wearing gloves all the time, which, she turned out to do most of the time. Delivering babies required knowledge, not pretty nails, she’d always thought. But office days made her realize she needed to balance both. She walked into RJ Salon. Ernie said, “Can we help you?” “Yes, just a shellac manicure, please,” Dr. Dickerson said. “Okay, have a seat and we’ll be right with you.” The salon was crowded. Latrice and Kyra were already there in front of her, waiting to get their nails done. They stared at their phones and didn’t look up the whole time. “Kim’s lashes are my favorite,” Latrice told Kyra, showing her a picture on her phone. “Well girl, Beyonce’s nails are the best” Kyra said. Dr. Dickerson looked over to see the nail picture on the screen. Kyra’s phone buzzed with a new text. Dr. Dickerson decided to make the wait time useful. She pulled out a printed article on the treatment of pulmonary embolism in pregnancy. More customers walked in. Latrice and Kyra were now being served by Chi-Chi and Wan. Latrice talked on her phone the whole time and Kyra played a video. Wan rolled her eyes at Chi-Chi; Chi-Chi nodded her head back and forth. “Um, make them longer,” Latrice told Wan, telling her to make the fake nails longer. Dr. Dickerson watched, wondering how someone could do anything useful with those nails on. Latrice sat tapping away on her phone, completely oblivious to her surroundings. She tapped on her phone and talked loudly while Wan worked on her feet in the bubbly tub. Wan looked up at her. “What color?” she asked. No response. Wan asked again, more loudly – “What color for your toes?” Latrice looked up momentarily and said, “Purple” without even making eye contact with Wan. Ernie walked by and slid Latrice’s wallet right off the chair she was sitting on. He pocketed it. Wan saw this.

“I can’t breathe!” said a woman in the back of the salon. It was Kyra. Dr. Dickerson then recognized her. It was the patient she’d seen earlier this week in the office. Latrice didn’t notice this, as she was on her phone. Wan and Chi-Chi notified Ernie, in the front of the store. Dr. Dickerson approached the woman to try to help her. “Someone call 911,” she said. The salon became smoky during all of this. Chi-Chi and Wan got up and approached Kyra who was in the massage chair gasping for air. “Focus on deep breaths,” Dr. Dickerson said, trying to hold her hand. She became unconscious. Fire started moving to the back of the salon. “Help me move her out,” Dr. Dickerson said to Ernie and Chi-Chi. Latrice was at the front of the store, head down, staring at her phone, feet still in the bubble bath. Ernie, Chi-Chi, and Dr. Dickerson picked up Kyra, who was now unconscious. They moved her outside the back of the salon. Dr. Dickerson started chest compressions. “Hey you, sub in,” she said, pointing to Chi-Chi after a minute. “Press in the middle of her chest, hard, with your arms straight. 30 times.” Dr. Dickerson gave breaths to Kyra’s mouth. The EMTs were still not there after what felt like 10 minutes. She looked around for Ernie, who could not be found. Finally, the EMTs and firetrucks arrived. Dr. Dickerson explained the situation and that she suspected Kyra might have a pulmonary embolus and that she was 10 weeks pregnant. Wan and Ernie were nowhere around. The EMTs took Kyra away on a stretcher. Chi-Chi appeared running out of the building, tears in her eyes. Her clothes were smoky.

“Fire destroys salon; two women dead,” read the headline the next day. The old woman read it from her nursing home room that morning. Kyra and Latrice had not been in to get her out of bed. Some time later the paper read: “22-year-old Kyra Longdale died. Autopsy revealed she died as a result of a blood clot in her lungs, an issue separate from the fire. 40-year-old Latrice Poole was found dead inside the salon – dead from burns and smoke inhalation. Her cell phone was in her hand. Police found a handcuff around her left ankle, chaining her to the pedicure chair.”

Investigators determined the fire had been accidental – by a combination of alcohol and a hair dryer device, plus an oxygen tank left in the back closet. The first call came from Dr. Dickerson’s cell. She was in the salon when the fire started. Latrice’s vehicle was found far from the salon. Chi-Chi’s fingerprints were found on the cuff around Latrice’s ankle. So were Wan’s. “I tried to unhook it as best I could during the fire,” Chi-Chi told investigators. “I thought maybe I could save her. I tried so hard, because I didn’t think the other girl was going to make it.” Burns on her arms revealed she had been back inside the fire.

Wan and Ernie were arraigned as part of the investigation. Wan was charged with both endangering Latrice – she had confessed to locking her ankle to the chair – and stealing a car. Ernie collected insurance money from the incident. He was able to share some with his mom, who sat in that nursing home reading this very article. He’d heard her stories of how Latrice and Kyra had scratched her and treated her so roughly while she was in their care. She sat there reading and attached to her lone oxygen tank. She never could figure out where the other one went. A knock at the door pulled her out of her thoughts. It was Chi-Chi, her private nurse aide.

Dr. Dickerson reviewed Kyra’s lab results from that day in the office. “Antithrombin deficiency: positive.” Dr. Dickerson closed her eyes for a moment and then backed away from the results on her screen. Kyra had a blood clotting disorder – she was more likely to clot. Dr. Dickerson thought this over. If she’d had these results just a few days prior, maybe she could have prevented Kyra’s death by having her on blood thinning medication. She sighed. She went to shut down her computer and grab her things to leave for the day. As she reached to turn off the light she saw her nails – still raggedy; cuticles long; skin on her hands chapped. She turned off the light and headed home but not first without stopping at Walgreens to pick up a nail file, nail clippers, and a bottle of light purple polish. ~