“I don't suffer fools, and if they’ve made a mistake, I tell them so. I won’t compromise patient care in exchange for tactfulness.”
I couldn't help smiling. “I see.”
Closing her eyes and leaning back, she added, “They compare me to a stray cat.”
Somehow, I doubted she meant to divulge that to me. “Jealous people are often rude to cover for their incompetence.”
She snorted, then groaned. “My head is pounding.”
And I felt guilty again that some dickhead who meant to go after me had injured an innocent woman in the process. “I’m sorry about that. Did they give you something?”
“They wouldn't have treated me with anything more than an NSAID.”
“That’s bullshit.”
Opening one eye, she gazed up at me. “That’s standard procedure.”
Clearing my throat, I said, “Why don't we go visit my dad?”
“I’ll need a wheelchair.”
“Also standard?” I asked, checking the room for one.
“Yes, but also because I think I’ll vomit if I keep my eyes open too long.”
Stepping out into the hallway, I tracked down the snobby nurse and told her to find me a wheelchair. It appeared with a brisk knock a few minutes later, and she reluctantly unhooked Sailor’s IV lines from the stand to hang them from the one attached to the chair.
As we headed down the hall, she said, “Thank you.”
“Wow, I’ve never heard you be so polite before.”
“That’s because you’ve never deserved it before.”
Conceding her point, I wheeled her down to my father’s room, rationalizing that it was for his sake and not hers.
“Noah? Sailor?”
I was pleased to see he’d been cleaned up and that he didn't look as ashen. But his voice was still hoarse.
“Benito!”
As soon as she said his name, Sailor burst into tears. Taken aback, I stood frozen while I watched her reach out to him. They held hands, and my father’s eyes actually watered.
“I don't know what I would have done if you’d been hurt worse just for being in my home, taking care of me.”
“I’m so grateful you weren't hurt worse, either. You’ve been making such good progress.”
Suddenly, I saw her the way he did: a caring, compassionate woman who truly wanted the best for her patient.
It was unsettling to know I’d been wrong.
“Now, who did they assign you to? It better not be Hofstadt.”
“It’s there on the whiteboard,” Dad said with a nod in that direction.
“Webster,” she said with a brief nod. “He’s good.”
“But he’s not you.”
