“Maybe Mahoney’s right about unraveling.” Serge sat down on the edge of the bed next to Coleman and placed his face in his hands. “I could always at least bank on my own stability-relatively speaking-but now I’m turning into a mumbling freak who somnambulates.”
“And sleepwalks.” Coleman grabbed an ashtray and lighter off the nightstand.
“This is worrisome. If I’m blacking out and don’t know what I’m doing, you may no longer be safe around me.”
“Don’t feel bad,” said Coleman. “When I go to bed really trashed, I sleepwalk, too.”
“Yeah, but at least there’s no gun in your hand. You just wake up covered in pizza.”
“That’s the best part. Breakfast in bed.”
A cell phone rang. Serge reached for the dresser.
Coleman reached for a joint. “Who could it be at this hour?”
“Probably one of the big travel websites wanting to apologize.” Serge flipped the phone open. “Hello? … This is he … Yes, I know him … He asked you to call me? … But why couldn’t he just call himself-What! … When did this happen?… I’ll be right there!”
Serge jumped up and grabbed his gun.
“What’s the matter? Are you starting to cry?”
But Serge just ran out the door.
JACKSONVILLE
Story Long had found a place to stay with one of her scattered old high school friends-“just a few days until I get some money.” The classmate’s live-in boyfriend didn’t like the idea, but too bad. He didn’t have a job, either.
The boyfriend was currently at a bar around the corner under protest. Fine by the gals. It was after midnight. Empty wineglasses. Story’s busted lip was almost healed.
“You should sue,” said the friend, named Beth.
“Better to just forget it and move on.”
“I wouldn’t forget it.” Beth poured the dregs of a $3.99 bottle of Zinfandel. “Want me to open another?”
“No.” Story stretched and yawned. “Already started online registration at the community college. My grades will transfer-“
A cell phone rang. Story reached for her purse.
Beth reached for a pack of cigarettes. “Who could it be at this hour?”
Story shrugged and flipped the phone open. “Hello? … Yes, this is she … The hospital? … I don’t understand … What! … When did this happen?… I’ll be right there!”
She jumped up and grabbed her purse.
“What’s the matter?”
“I need a ride.”
MEMORIAL HOSPITAL
The Javelin skidded into a parking space. Serge and Coleman jumped out and ran through the emergency room’s automatic doors.
“There’s the admissions desk!” Serge practically dove over it demanding information.
“Take it easy.” The nurse behind the counter flipped pages on a clipboard. “Room three-twelve. But he’s only seeing immediate relatives. Are you …” She looked up from the clipboard.
Serge and Coleman had already taken off.
The nurse leaned over the desk. “Wait! Your visitors’ passes! …”
The pair took the elevator and arrived at the open door of the appointed room. Serge caught one look inside and gasped. He’d never seen so many bandages and tubes and wires.
A doctor came down the hall carrying an X-ray folder. Serge grabbed him by the arm. “That kid in there …”
The physician noticed Serge’s welling eyes and placed other thoughts on hold. “Everything’s going to be fine. He’s through the worst of it. Just needs his sleep.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
The physician continued down the hall. They slipped quietly into Howard’s room. The young man looked up at Serge, and his own eyes became glassy. The slight movement of his mouth indicated he wanted to say something but was too weak.
“Rest,” said Serge, pulling a chair bedside. “We can talk later.”
“Serge,” said Coleman. “What’s this tube here?”
“Looks like a morphine drip.”
Coleman’s face lit up. “Really?”
“Fuckin’ touch it and you’ll be sharing the next bed.”
Coleman dropped his hand and sulked.
Howard tried to speak again.
Serge placed his hand across the young man’s fingers, just below the IV port. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”
He made a slight shaking motion with his head, indicating it couldn’t.
“Okay,” said Serge. “What is it?” He leaned over the bed with his ear an inch from Howard’s mouth. The young man whispered.
A minute later, Serge stood back up, his head throbbing with rage.
“Uh-oh,” said Coleman. “I’ve seen that look before.”
A woman’s voice from behind. Quiet but angry. The nurse from the desk. “You didn’t get your passes! You have to leave!”
Serge raced past her. “I’m going to get them! I’m going to get them all! …”
The elevators opened on the first floor.
Serge and Coleman sprinted out the emergency room entrance, dodging a red Firebird as it screeched up the circular drive. Story and Beth hopped out and ran for the automatic doors.
An ambulance driver on smoke break: “Ma’am, you can’t park there!”
Story nearly crashed into the reception desk. She stuck her head through the sliding glass window. “Anyone here?”
The nurse returned from shooing off two rule-breakers. “Can I help you?”
“Howard Long, what room?”
The nurse checked a log again. “Three-twelve, but he’s only seeing immediate relatives.”
“I’m his sister.”
