Chapter 3-1
795 Words
Chapter 3
Harris’ eyelids fluttered open. He was laying down somewhere. Sheets covered his chest and legs. The phosphorescent lights above nearly blinded him. He wasn’t sure where he was, but he was in some bed. That didn’t make any sense. Wasn’t he just at work? No, he met up with Tucker. And then what?
He tried to sit up, but something pounded in his head. He winced and dropped back on the pillows.
“Hey, slugger.”
“What?” Harris realized his friend Mitchell sat in a nearby chair, looking over a tablet through rectangular glasses. He lazily scratched at the short-cropped beard that covered his jawline.
Mitchell set the tablet down on a sliding table and approached the bed. “How you feeling?”
“Like s**t. What happened? Where am I?”
“You’re at the hospital. I should get a nurse in here.”
The hospital? Why?
Mitchell strode out of the room. As Harris’ eyes adjusted to the light, he realized Mitchell was right. He was hooked up to beeping monitors in a large hospital room. He tried remembering what happened, but it was all a blur.
And his head hurt like hell.
Dalton cheating. I left him, oh s**t. Packing up. Then what?
Mitchell returned with a handsome young nurse.
“You’re looking great,” the nurse said.
“I am?”
“Yeah,” Mitchell said.
“I’m Gage,” the nurse said. Harris noticed the name tag—Robert J—and smiled.
“I’m Harris.”
“Good. How are you feeling?” Gage asked as he checked the monitor.
“Horrible. Groggy.”
The nurse pressed a button and said, “You should feel better shortly.”
“Thanks.”
Gage gently picked up Harris’ wrist and took his pulse, and then said, “The doctor will want to meet with you in the morning. I’ll check in on you on my rounds, but if you need anything, just press this.” He showed Harris a call button for the nurse’s station.
“‘Kay.”
“You gave your friends quite a scare. You’re really lucky to have so many people who care about you,” Gage said.
“They’re all right,” Harris said, glancing at a smirking Mitchell.
“The surgeon was determined to get the bullet out. Looks like his winning streak will continue,” Gage added.
“That’s a statistic I like being a part of,” Harris said.
Gage smiled. “Definitely. Well, I’ll give you some privacy with your friend.” Gage gave Mitchell a smile and swept out of the room.
Mitchell cleaned his glasses on his shirt and then sat back down. “Good thing this didn’t happen in June.”
“Why?” Harris asked.
“You’d steal all the thunder for my thirtieth.”
Harris laughed. It hurt. He knew Mitchell was dreading turning thirty, which was the reason Harris and Tucker had decided to throw him a surprise party.
“How long have you been here?” Harris asked.
“I got here just after the play let out at ten. Wish I had my phone on, so I could have had an excuse to leave early. Anyway, now it’s three am.”
“What? It’s three? I’m so confused. And suddenly I don’t feel any pain anymore.”
“Yeah, they’re giving you the good stuff. Tucker called me. Apparently you left Dalton—thank God—and stopped at a liquor store. Good idea, but bad timing. Do you remember any of that?”
“Oh, yeah. Dalton’s cheating on me with dominatrices. That’s a bummer.”
“Right. Do you remember the liquor store?”
“We stopped for booze, but I don’t remember going inside or anything. What happened?”
“Like I said, really bad timing. You interrupted a robbery.”
“I did? Am I a hero?” Harris asked.
“Well, not so much. The guy got away…after he shot you in the head.”
“That’s a bummer, too. Did I die?” Harris felt like he was swimming in thick pudding. He eyed the IV sticking into his arm.
Smiling softly, Mitchell shook his head. “Turns out you’ve got a thick skull. I mean, I’ve always said so, but now there’s proof.”
“I’m so confused.”
“The bullet broke through your skull and lodged in your brain. You were in surgery for quite a while. They removed the bullet and patched you up. Doctors said the surgery was successful and they’re hopeful you’ll make a full physical recovery.”
“Go me. How about the brain though?”
“It’s still too soon. No one knows what side effects there could be, if any.”
“I’m hoping for none.”
“Me, too.”
“Where’s Tucker?”
“I sent him home. Brittany checked in on you, so I had her drive him back. He was a mess. All tears and shaking.”
“Aww, poor guy.”
“So I told him to set up your room in his place for when you get out of here,” Mitchell said.
“That’s really nice.”
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t stand his blubbering, and I don’t think they were going to let him or Brit stay much longer.”
“Why’d they let you in?” Harris asked. He was reasonably sure they only let family visit at such late hours.
“My minor celebrity status. I may have mentioned I’d give writing hospital critiques a shot in next month’s issue.”
“You threatened my doctors?”
“And use the little pull I have working for a national magazine?” Mitchell yawned and said, “Of course.”
“That’s really nice of you. Hey, I’m really sleepy now.”
“Well, now that I know you’re not a vegetable, I should get going. Tucker and I’ll come visit tomorrow, all right?”
“Nighty night.”
Mitchell hovered over him for a moment before leaving, shutting the lights off on the way out.
Harris looked up at the ceiling in the dull light of the monitors keeping watch over his vital signs. With the drugs pumping through his blood, tricking his brain into happiness, he soon fell asleep.
- Writer
