Health Care

I’m sat on a cold plastic chair. Luckily for me, one of the cute doctors took pity on my lack of clothing so brought me his giant duffle coat. I’m snuggled down in the fur hood, waiting for Christopher’s all-clear. His forehead was badly gashed and blood was seeping across his hairline.

Loretta is driving like a bat out of hell to get to the hospital now, I can almost sense her arrival. It’s been almost two hours since Christopher even fell over, but it’s as though time has stood still. I don’t expect it’ll be anything serious. I’m half expecting Christopher to wander out of the ward now with a bandage wrapped around his head, looking apologetic.

Nurses come and go, offering me cups of coffee and tea. So far I’m cradling a polystyrene cup. They all think I’m the girlfriend as they pat my shoulder sympathetically and give me a reassuring smile.

It’s almost five in the morning. I can see no inch of daylight but I presume the sun is beginning to creep out. It’s cold for an August night, I can feel it.

The Emergency Room at this time is near enough dedicated to those suffering from drunken injuries. I guess I should count my lucky stars that Christopher isn’t one of these with a broken ankle or a fractured jaw. Hopefully just a couple of stitches in his head and he’ll be fine by the morning. I keep a watchful eye at the door, running through the explanation I’d give to Loretta before she presumes this is all my fault.

Sure enough, there’s a definite squeak of shoes and the heavy hospital doors behind me come crashing open.

“My baby! My baby!” Loretta cries.

She’s pulled on a fleece over her satin pyjamas. Timothy strides in behind her. He looks worried. A nurse scurries over in an attempt to tell them to hush while she tries to decipher who they’re looking for.

“Christopher Thompson!” Loretta snaps at her, as though the nurse should’ve known who they were just by sight. I half expect that the Thompsons are used to private healthcare alone. One glance at the grubby linoleum and the faded mint green walls, and Loretta may well as be an emergency patient herself.

“Hey,” I croak from the corner, sending up a hand as if to say, ‘I’m over here’. Loretta’s eyes catch me and turn to stone. Timothy, on the other hand, looks relieved.

“Alexa!” he gushes, flying over and wrapping me in an unexpected hug. “Please tell us everything.” He choose the one and only plastic seat next to mine, leaving Loretta no choice but to perch on a chair opposite us, glowering. I briefly explain how Christopher had been fooling around with his friend, Elliot, before falling over. I stress that I had simply come out of the club at the opportune moment.

“Elliot?” Timothy questions. “You mean, Julie’s boy?” He directs this question over to Loretta, who shrugs impatiently. I look from one worried parent to the other; dying to discover the identity of this ‘Elliot’ boy.

“Must be,” Loretta mumbles. “Julie brought him over to ours last Friday, for afternoon tea.” I suppress the urge to snort. “The two of them must’ve got talking.”

“Elliot told me Christopher was staying with him,” I add. Loretta’s pencilled eyebrows push up into her hairline.

“Well he never mentioned that,” she says darkly. Timothy turns away and encourages me to continue with my story.

“I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” I say to them both. “I suspect he’ll be out soon enough.”

“Easy for you to say,” Loretta spits. “You don’t have children.” She glances fleetingly at my stomach, as though she half-expects me to be hiding a bump under this duffle coat. Another reason why I’m a bad influence, of course.

Daylight floods into the waiting room before Christopher, followed by an overweight nurse appear. Like a bullet from a gun, Loretta flies towards her son but the nurse steps in front. Loretta glares at this woman as she holds up her hands.

“Slow down there, ma’am,” she beams in a cutesy-high pitched voice. “Chris is a little delicate at the moment, and will be until he sleeps tonight off.” Christopher shoots furtive glances from under the bandage taped across his forehead. His eyes are bloodshot and shadowed. Mind due, I expect mine are as well.

Timothy steps to greet his son as he strikes a deep conversation with the nurse, more than likely disputing Christopher’s recommended steps to recovery.

I remain in my seat and give Christopher a small smile.

“Alex?” he asks. “What are you doing here?” Oh brilliant, he doesn’t even remember. A side effect of cutting your head open, no doubt.

“You fool, I’ve been with you since you fell! I rode in the ambulance with you!”

Christopher bites his lip. He’s clearly trying his hardest to remember. Either way, I step towards him and give him a brief hug. Loretta purses her lips. Through it all, deep down I am relieved he is okay.

We wander out into the car park and Timothy offers me a ride home. Loretta is still seething over the amount of praise I received from the nurse for being so attentive.

“That’s the mother’s job!” Loretta wailed, distraught.

She’s in the back seat with me, dry-sobbing every once in a while. Luckily Timothy had a spare jacket in the car after I had to give mine back to the doctor. Taking off the duffle coat and standing in the hospital wearing my clubbing outfit made me look incredibly exposed. Loretta had eyed up my bare legs with disgust.

Outside my house, it’s nearly 9AM.

“At least you can sleep off tonight’s ordeal,” Timothy says soothingly. I imagine my warm bed, climbing into my pyjamas …

Oh shit! I’m meant to be picking up Sam!