She steps back and rubs her upper arms as if she’s cold. It is cold in here. I hadn’t had a chance to notice until now. She says, “We’ll let you know when he’s settled in his room after surgery and recovery, but you have time to go home if you need to. It will be at least six hours or more before you’ll be able to see him.”
When she walks out of the room, I pick up my phone and sit down again. Why am I waiting? I know why. I feel bad for him. Other than his friend, who was probably only a colleague, knowing Warner, or someone being paid to hang out with him, I might be the only person who cares about what happens to him.
Does he deserve my kindness?Not really.But will I makesure everything with his surgery and recovery goes well?Sure will.
I can despise him all I want, but he’s still a person who needs someone in his corner. And I’m the one still standing here like I belong.
CHAPTER 4
Warner
“I appreciateyou repeating yourself formybenefit, Nurse,” I say, struggling to keep the sarcasm out of my voice and my eyes fully open. A fog of grogginess clouds my clearer thoughts, but my pride still wants to argue with a nurse who dropped the bombshell of the car accident and subsequent coma, a.k.a. “catching up on sleep,” as she called it. I call it being blindsided twice—first by the car, and now by my own nurse who won’t tell me the truth. “I comprehend the words. It’s how I ended up here in the hospital with a broken arm and in a coma that evades me.”
Nurse Edi eyes me over the top of her red-framed readers and then laughs. “I’ve told you twice now. You weren’t in a coma. You have a concussion from the?—”
“Car accident. I know. I know. But?—”
“No buts, Mr. Landers,” she finally snaps. “That’s all I can tell you.”
“Can or will?” I steady my temper in the face of a lack ofinformation, refraining from shifting and putting any weight on my right side.
She huffs, having lost her patience with me the first time she came in to check on me. This round, she’s not putting up with any shit or questions I might have, it seems. Well, she can get in line. I’m not an idiot, and when she couldn’t or wouldn’t answer the question, I asked for the doctor. Always go to the top.
Now I’m enemy number one in her book and she’s punishing me by swiping the pudding from my tray and then shoving it back down ten seconds later like I just won a damn prize. I don’t give a shit about pudding. I want to know what the fuck happened to me yesterday.Why is it such a secret?
I try a different approach. “I apologize if I offended you?—”
Her laughter tears through the room and my apology. “You didn’t offend me. I was assigned to you for a reason.”
Offense takes hold of me, causing me to shift in this bed that really needs to be replaced. “What reason is that?”
“I’ve worked with the orneriest patients in this wing of the hospital for the past forty-three years. I was assigned to you for a reason, Mr. Landers.” As if that puts my questions to bed, she turns her gaze to the e-pad and starts writing with a stylus. I’m hit with a hard glare before she adds something else on the pad. “I work with all the difficult patients.”
Difficult? She keeps scribbling like she’s penning her autobiography in my chart. “What are you noting?”
“I’m noting that there is no helping you, as a warning to others.” She cackles under her breath, then sets the e-pad by the monitor in the corner.I really don’t like her.Who treats patients like this? Apparently, Nurse Edi. With another laugh, she pulls her glasses from her face and drops them todangle from a beaded chain around her neck. “I wrote that you’re paranoid and might need to be moved to an evaluation room.”
“You did not.”
She laughs again, really impressed with herself. “No, but don’t push your luck, Mr. Landers. Enjoy the pudding.” Walking toward the door, she pulls it open and then turns back. “I think it’s safe to say that you’re alert enough for visitors.”
“I have visitors?”
“Your wife is an angel. She’s been here since you arrived.”
“My wife?” My gaze darts to my left hand. The door closes, and I’m still speculating what the hell happened to me. As I tick through the memories I can recall, I remember being in my office.
The door opens, the light from the hallway silhouetting a woman’s frame. Another nurse, a doctor, or . . . mywife? I’m not married, so I’m not sure if Nurse Edi was just goading me or what, but nothing was funny about that joke.
I’m a terrible patient, especially when I have very few answers as to why I’m here. Even more so with strangers invading my space at any given moment. But my heart monitor alerts the visitor to my anxiety. So much for trying to play it cool.
“Hello?” The lilt of a soft voice is as tentative as this woman’s entry. When she finally steps over the threshold, the door slams closed behind her. The low light from the afternoon sun struggles to filter through the cheap metal blinds, accentuating her entry like lines on a piece of paper. They’re also bent in four spots, but I’ve tried not to dwell on the imperfections so as not to raise my blood pressure. Plus,one of the bent pieces highlights the shape of her jaw and those pouty lips.
“Hi,” I reply. “Are you a nurse?”
Stepping into the light, she says, “I’m sorry for intruding.” A wave of apprehension rolls off her, altering the air between us.
Intruding?What is going on here? I try my best to remember her features, but nothing is registering while my heart monitor beeps loudly again and pain shoots through my head. “Who are you?”
