“He’s hurt bad. Can’t you sneak him in somewhere? He’s a good guy, Betsy.”
Nurse Betsy grinned (which was the expression she used in lieu of telling people to fuck off) and scanned the waiting room to make sure that no one seemed particularly attentive. “Can you get him to the window?”
“Sure,” Ray said. He helped Charlie out of his chair and got him to the little bulletproof window. “This is Charlie Asher,” Ray said. “My friend.”
Charlie looked at Ray.
“I mean my boss,” Ray added quickly.
“Mr. Asher, are you going to die on me?”
“Hope not,” Charlie said. “But you might want to ask someone with more medical experience than me.”
Nurse Betsy grinned.
“He’s been shot,” Ray said, ever the advocate.
“I didn’t see who shot me,” Charlie said. “It’s a mystery.”
Nurse Betsy leaned into the window. “You know we have to report all gunshot wounds to the authorities. Are you sure you don’t want to take a veterinarian hostage and have him sew you up?”
“I don’t think my insurance will cover that,” Charlie said.
“Besides, it wasn’t a gunshot,” Ray added. “It was an arrow.”
Nurse Betsy nodded. “Let me see?”
Charlie started to roll up his pant leg and lift his leg up on the little counter. Nurse Betsy reached through the little window and knocked his foot off the shelf. “For Christ’s sakes, don’t let the others see I’m looking.”
“Ouch, sorry.”
“Is it still bleeding?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Hurt?”
“Like a bitch.”
“Big bitch or little bitch?”
“Extra large,” Charlie said.
“You allergic to any painkillers?”
“Nope.”
“Antibiotics?”
“Nope.”
Nurse Betsy reached into her uniform pocket and pulled out a handful of pills, picked out two round ones and one long one, and slid them through the little window. “By the power invested in me by Saint Francis of Assisi, I now pronounce you painless. The round ones are Percocet, the oval one is Cipro. I’ll put it on your chart.” She looked at Ray. “Fill out his papers for him, he’s going to be too fucked up to do it in a few minutes.”
“Thanks, Betsy.”
“You get any Prada or Gucci bags in that store where you work—they’re mine.”
“No problem,” Ray said. “Charlie owns the store.”
“Really?”
Charlie nodded.
“Free,” Betsy added. She slid another round pill across the counter. “For you, Ray.”
“I’m not hurt.”
“It’s a long wait. Anything could happen.” She grinned in lieu of telling him to fuck off.
An hour later the paperwork was done and Charlie was heaped in a fiberglass chair in a posture that seemed possible only if his bones had turned to marshmallow.
“They killed Rachel here,” Charlie said.
“Yeah, I know,” Ray said. “I’m sorry.”
“I still miss her.”
“Yeah, I know,” Ray said. “How’s your leg?”
“But they gave me Sophie,” Charlie said, ignoring the question. “So, you know, that was good.”
“Yeah, I know,” Ray said. “How are you feeling now?”
“I’m a little concerned that growing up without a mother, Sophie won’t be sensitive enough.”
“You’re doing a great job with her. I meant how are you feeling physically?”
“Like that thing where she kills people, just by looking at them. That can’t be good for a little girl. My fault, all my fault.”
“Charlie, does your leg hurt?” Ray had opted not to take the painkiller Nurse Betsy had given him, and now he was regretting it.
“And the thing with the hellhounds—what kid has to deal with that? That can’t be healthy.”
“Charlie, how do you feel?”
“I’m a little sleepy,” Charlie said.
“Well, you lost a lot of blood.”
“I’m relaxed, though. You know, blood loss relaxes you. You suppose that’s why they did leeches in the Middle Ages? They could use them instead of tranquilizers. ‘Yes, Bob, I’ll be right in to the meeting, but let me stick a leech on, I’m feeling a little anxious.’ Like that.”
“Great idea, Charlie. You want some water?”
“You’re a good guy, Ray. Did I ever tell you that? Even if you are serial-killing desperate Filipinas on your vacation.”
“What?”
Nurse Betsy came to the window. “Asher!” she called.
Ray looked pleadingly at her through the window—a few seconds later she was coming through the door with a wheelchair.
“How’s Painless doing?” she said.
“Oh my God, he’s incredibly irritating,” Ray said.
“You didn’t take your medicine, did you?”
“I don’t like drugs.”
“Who’s the nurse here, Ray? It’s the circle of meds, not just the patient, but everyone around him. Haven’t you seen The Lion King?”
“That’s not in The Lion King. That’s the circle of life.”
“Really? I’ve been singing that song wrong the whole time? Wow, I guess I don’t like that movie after all. Help me get Painless into the chair. We’ll have him home by breakfast.”
“We got here at dinnertime,” Ray said.
“See how you are when you’re off your meds?”
Charlie had a foam walking cast and crutches when he got home from the hospital. The painkillers had worn off to a level where he was no longer painless. His head was throbbing like tiny twin aliens were going to burst out of his temples. Mrs. Korjev came out of his apartment and cornered him in the hallway.
“Charlie Asher, I am having bone to pick with you. Last night am I seeing my little Sophie run by my apartment naked and soapy like bear, pulling giant black dogs around singing ‘not in butt’? In old country we have word for that, Charlie Asher. Word is nasty. I still have number for child service from days when my boys were boys.”
“Soapy like bear?”
“Don’t change subject. Is nasty.”
“Yes, it is. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I was shot and wasn’t thinking straight.”
“You are shot?”
“In the leg. It’s only a flesh wound.” Charlie had waited his entire life to say those words and he felt very macho at that moment. “I don’t know who shot me. It’s a mystery. They dropped a rug on me, too.” The rug diminished the machismo somewhat. He vowed not to mention it henceforth.
“You come in. Have breakfast. Sophie will not eat toast Vladlena make. She say is raw and have toast germs.”
“That’s my girl,” Charlie said.
Charlie was no sooner in the door and on his way to rescue his daughter from toast-borne pathogens, when Mohammed grabbed the tip of one of his crutches in his mouth and dragged a hopping Charlie into the bedroom.
“Hi, Daddy,” Sophie said as her father went hopping by. “No skipping in the house,” she added.
Mohammed head-butted the hapless Beta Male to his date book. There were two names there under today’s date, which wasn’t that unusual. What was unusual was that they were the names that had appeared before: Esther Johnson and Irena Posokovanovich—the two soul vessels he’d missed.
He sat down on the bed and tried to rub the pain aliens back into his temples. How to even start? Would these names keep coming back until he got the soul vessels? That hadn’t happened with the fuck puppet. What was different here? Things were obviously getting worse—now they were shooting at him.
Charlie picked up the phone and dialed Ray Macy’s number.
It took Ray four days to come back to Charlie with the report. He had the information in three, but he’d wanted to be absolutely sure that all the painkillers had worn off and Charlie wasn’t going to be crazy anymore—going on all night about being the big death, “with a capital D.” Ray also felt a little guilty because he’d been holding out on Charlie about breaking some rules in the store.