 CHAPTER 6 (section 2) copyright © 2001, S. Y. Affolee All the nurses at triage swooned when a mirage, or more accurately a scene from one of their torridly sappy romantic fantasies, strolled through the emergency doors. Despite speeding down Havan main street with an unconscious driver, Adrian had managed to steer Simone’s car to the side and pull the emergency break without crashing into telephone poles or other people like a bumper car rally gone wrong. He had then cursed and pulled her body out, only to replace her in the passenger seat and drive like a mad man, more crazy than his usual maniacal self he was sure Simone would berate him when she awoke, to the hospital himself. Her body had been so limp and small in his arms and he had felt so helpless as he headed to the emergency room. At least she was still breathing. The nurse at the counter was too busy oogling his muscled arms when he spoke. “I need to see a doctor.” “Why, would...oh.” She suddenly snapped out of her daydream and motioned toward the interior. “This way sir.” She got up and hustled to a room where a fresh bed was made. “Put her down here and I’ll get Dr. Stevens.” When the nurse left, Adrian gently placed his partner on the white linens. She looked so pale. So dead, except for the slight movement of her chest that indicated breathing. “Simone.” She didn’t answer. He stood over her, trying deperately to tell her telepathically to open her eyes. But of course, he remembered to himself bitterly. There was no such thing as telepathy. “Good evening.” The doctor strolled in, a portly older man, possibly in his mid-fiftees. He had graying hair that was also on the wane. There was already a shiny bald spot showing. He wore square glasses that magnified his eyes two fold and a white coat that was singularly decorated by a stethascope. “What happened?” “We were driving. Or rather Simone was driving and she suddenly blacked out.” “Was this sudden or were there anything that happened before?” “She complained of a headache right before she went.” “Is this common?” “No. She never has blacked out in her whole life. At least not that I can tell.” “Very well. Did she have anything to eat before?” “Just tea.” “Then we might need her stomach pumped. Mary!” The same nurse who had summoned the doctor had hovered nearby and had heard the command. She quickly disappeared to fetch the equipment. “Is she pregnant?” the doctor continued, “sometimes this happens to women when their body suddenly makes an adjustment. A very trying time.” “I don’t think so.” Adrian frowned thinking that if she was indeed pregnant, she would of at least told him. He wondered who the father was if this were true. “We’ll order some bloodwork done immediately in any case.” By that time, the first nurse arrived back with the stomach pumping equipment and both she and the doctor got to work right away. A second nurse also came in to quickly get a blood sample and a third nurse came to question Adrian on paperwork and information regarding Simone. His mind wondered confused when he saw the nurse’s eyes light up when he said that Simone wasn’t married. Eventually, some of the hospital staff pushed him out of the emergency room and steered him to the waiting room. The coffee there was awful, a mixture of sludge and toxic chemicals. He ended up throwing the whole cup out and had begun flipping through the innocuous magazines in the waiting room, the ones for parents and kids and old people ranting about the health care system. There were only a few other people in the waiting room, a young nervous man who kept shaking his leg and slugging down the horrible beverage they called coffee and an older woman, perhaps in her sixties calmly knitting a sweater that she had brought with her in a large colorful duffle bag. Adrian could not stand the near silence. He threw the magazine he was currently leafing through mindlessly onto the nearst table and paced to the window to stare outside into the night. “So what are you doing here?” he heard the woman finally ask the man. “Family member? Friend?” “My wife’s having a baby.” The man’s voice shook like nervous leaves in a blustery wind. “Her water broke while we were on our way to visit her parents. I called them. Hopefully they’ll be here in an hour or so.” “You should be with your wife. It would be a great comfort to her.” “No. No. She was screaming at me.” “That’s just a woman in labor, dearie. She’s entitled to her screams. She’ll appreciate your presence afterwards.” “But...” “Come on.” He heard the woman put away her knitting. “You must go in there and face it. You have to be there to welcome your new son or daughter into the world.” The man grumbled. “How about you then, ma’am? Why are you here?” “My grandson is just getting some stitches taken out.” The man replied with something, but Adrian could no longer hear. The two were well on their way to another wing of the hospital, most likely the maternity ward. Adrian’s eyes wandered back outside, seeing cars parked. No ambulences. They were probably patrolling the streets. The dark glass reflected some of the light in the waiting room so that he could see the reflection of the chairs and stands with magazines, the counter where the nurse with the night shift was staring at him. He didn’t care if everyone stared at him. He felt himself withdraw into some numb place until about half an hour later, Dr. Stevens waddled out and tapped him on the shoulder. “Mr. Dubois. I need to speak with you.” Adrian turned around slowly, not knowing what to expect, hoping it was not the worst. The doctor sat down on the nearest waiting room seat and patted the seat next to him as if he was expecting Adrian to be a child. “How is she?” Adrian took the seat, and found his voice to be lacking of any inflection. The way the doctor looked at him with those lucid eyes sent chills down his spine. “Ms. Sung is fine. You can take her home, but she needs a lot of rest. Tell me, has Ms. Sung had any history of depression?” Adrian shook his head. “No doctor. I’ve never noticed her depressed. What are you suggesting? That she was trying to commit suicide?” “Well.” The doctor’s hestiation made him fidgity, but he tamped down on the urge to pace of twiddle his fingers. “The bloodwork tests came back negative for pregnancy.” He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “It also came back negative for any diseases or drugs except for a depressant. A sedative if you will. A tranquilizer.” “What is it?” “She had an overdose of valium.” “What?!” “We also made a quick analysis of the contents in her stomach,” the doctor added. “Whatever she ate recently in the past two or three hours also was laden with valium.” “Simone didn’t eat anything at all,” said Adrian. “I was with her the whole time. Even when we went to meet...” His eyes suddenly sharpened. “She had tea. The bastard had offered us refreshments and she drank the damned tea.” “If that’s the case,” said the doctor. “Then I suggest you file a police report if you suspect her of poisoning.” But none of it made sense, he thought furiously as he followed the doctor back to Simone’s room. If Thomson had tried to poison her, why would he do it? He needed them to do his “dirty work” researching for his history paper. But that left Thomson’s dubious housekeeper. But again, why would she want to poison them? She had only met them today. Simone looked the same as before, inert. Adrian mentally gave himself a good cursing before he gently cradled her back into his arms and headed out to the car to drive her home. When he left, the nurses immediately began to gossip since they had nothing left to do. Chivalry was not dead, they had concluded, but it was way too hard to find some in this day and age. |