Chapter 3-2
1073 Words
Harris watched daytime television the next day in between nurse visits and loopy medication. Besides Gage, a stern older woman checked in on him, as well as a younger black woman. The women chatted with him, but Gage seemed the most interested.
He considered calling his mom but thought better of it. Harris’ dad left her while she was pregnant and she’d gone from man to man for the next two and a half decades. Harris had always felt like the parent. No need to bring her in on this and give her any reason to cry over him.
In between meals and bad TV, a good-looking man in his mid-forties stepped into the room, carrying a clipboard at his side. He took a pen out from his white coat and jotted a note.
“I’m Dr. Brighton, how are you feeling today, Harrison?”
“Call me Harris.”
“You got it.” The doctor made another note.
“The pain comes and goes. Mostly comes. And I’m starving.”
“That’s good. We’ll get you some food in here shortly. Are you feeling any sort of pain anywhere besides in your head?”
“Not really. A little cramped lying in bed so long.”
“That’s to be expected. We’ll start getting you up for short walks in the hallway soon. And what about your memory? Any deficits there? Any confusion?”
“I don’t remember the shooting, but that’s normal, right?” Even the words felt strange on his lips. Shooting. Had he taken part in some action movie scene that was on the cutting room floor?
“It sure is. Any time someone experiences extreme shock, like a violent attack or accident, it can disrupt your short term memory from being encoded properly. The shooting may come back to you in bits and pieces or never at all. It’s your body’s way of protecting you.”
“Oh. How long do you think I’ll have to stay here?” Harris thought about returning to his apartment, and then remembered that he couldn’t. That’s Dalton’s house now, not mine.
“I want to monitor you for a bit longer and make sure you keep recovering. Infection’s a possibility, but I’m cautiously optimistic.”
“Best kind,” Harris said. “I, um, broke up with someone recently. Can I keep that person from visiting me?” Dr. Brighton frowned at him. “It’s not a dangerous situation or anything, but not conducive to healing.”
Did I use conducive right?
“Of course. Just give me her name and I’ll inform the nurses. They’ll be on the lookout for any crazy exes.”
Why couldn’t he be named Pat?
Harris hated telling people he was gay. He never knew how they’d react. Tolerance, love, acceptance, disgust…
He took a deep breath. “It’s Dalton Locus.”
“Oh. All right.” Dr. Brighton wrote on his clipboard again. “If Dalton stops by, the nurses will let him know that he can’t see you.”
No judgment. Everything’s fine.
“Thanks so much.”
“Of course. My primary concern is getting you up on your feet, Harris. I’d like to take a listen to your heart now.”
“Is something wrong?”
The doctor shook his head. “Monitor’s fine, I just want to make sure.” He pulled a stethoscope out of his pocket and put it on.
As Dr. Brighton placed the metallic end on Harris’ chest, Harris felt a searing pain course through his body from his head to his toes. His eyes rolled up, the world slipped away, and he saw a blonde woman.
The pain receded and he opened his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Dr. Brighton asked. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, yeah, just had this moment there. Pain spike, I guess. Um, is it normal to see people when that happens?”
Lines creased the doctor’s forehead. “What sort of people?”
“Just one woman. She had a beauty spot by her lip and curly blonde hair. Actually, it was a good dye job. She’s wearing a green dress. It’s like in a dream, how you know more than you should. Like, I think her name’s Emma. She’s a teacher. Fifth grade.”
Dr. Brighton’s face went pale. His hands dropped to his sides and he took a step back. “What else?”
“I don’t know. I had the sense she’s really happy. She’s in love.”
The doctor swallowed hard. “I should hope so. You just described my wife to a T.”
“What?” Harris shook his head. He didn’t need any practical jokes now.
“I don’t know,” Dr. Brighton said. “We’ve never met, right? Have you been to the hospital before?”
“No. That doesn’t make any sense.” Harris frowned. Strangest prank ever. How’d the doctor put that image in his head?
Dr. Brighton stepped forward, shone a tiny flashlight in Harris’ eyes. “It’s…unexplainable then.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, everything seems good here. I’ll check back with you later on.”
“Okay,” Harris said as the doctor hurried out of the room.
Alone again.
Harris reached out, his body aching, and grabbed a magazine he’d read twice before. He flicked through it lazily for at least an hour. He was usually so good on his own, but the TV wasn’t any help, and he kept thinking about Dalton.
He pressed the button for the nurses’ station.
He set the button down, laid the magazine back on the rolling side table. Waited.
Gage, the handsome nurse, hurried into the room. “What’s wrong?”
“Uh, hi. Um, nothing. Sorry.”
Gage slowed down, his expression softening. He sat by the bed. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s just—I don’t know.”
“It’s fine. What?”
“Nothing.” Harris had no idea where to even begin, let alone what he’d tell this virtual stranger. Just as much as he’d wished for company, he longed to be left all alone.
Gage leaned back in the chair, glanced at the magazines. “You know, you gave the doctor quite a start.”
“I did?”
“I heard you described Emma perfectly. She’s such a sweetheart.”
“She seemed nice in my—I don’t know, vision?” Harris felt like an i***t. Gage only smiled. “When the doctor touched me, I don’t know what happened. You must think I’m crazy.”
“I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“There’s more in this world than science knows. Yet.”
“You think so?” Harris asked.
Gage nodded. “I do.” He stood up, leaned forward. “You want to try touching me? See if you see anything?”
“I’m not going to,” Harris said.
“Not going to see anything, or not going to try?” Gage asked.
“Both. Neither. I don’t know.”
Gage held out his hand. “See what happens. What’ll it hurt?”
Harris couldn’t think of a single reason to say no. He reached out, grabbed Gage’s hand. It was warm. He felt a tingling sensation.
The knife pain sliced through his mind. Harris dropped Gage’s hand, grabbed his head, pressed as hard as he could.
“Are you okay?” Gage asked.
The pain receded. Harris nodded. “It’s nothing.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Gage looked tense, like he was debating calling for help. Harris forced a smile.
“It might have worked,” Harris said, trying to distract Gage.
“Yeah? What do you mean?”
“Through the pain, I got something. I’m not sure what.”
“Something?” Gage asked.
“Yeah. I saw your happiness. It’s, well, I don’t want to sound cheesy or something, but I felt like you’ve already met the one, but neither of you know it yet. Does that make any sense?”
Gage’s eyes flicked upward, like he was trying to think. “Doesn’t ring any bells, but it’s nice to hear. I have met a lot of people.” He laughed sweetly.
“It’s silly,” Harris said.
“I don’t think so. You should pay more attention to your new feelings.”
“You think so?” Harris asked.
Gage shrugged. “What do I know? Maybe it’ll never happen again. But if it does, I’d start to listen.”
- Writer
