“Well...” I hesitated for a moment, then she encouraged me to speak up. “Pardon my French here, but why does my dick feel like I need to ask you for a penicillin shot?”
This time it was her who snorted. “Okay, at least I know your head is working just fine. We placed a urinary catheter before the surgery. We removed it about half an hour ago. It can cause a burning sensation, but it should vanish within an hour. Anything else?”
“How late is it, how long are visiting hours, and where’s my stuff?” I asked. It seemed to perplex her a little. In truth, I just wanted to know how long I had to put up with Claire if I couldn’t make her go home on her own.
“It’s 6:22 PM, visiting hours end at Eight, and what is left of your clothes is in that bag hanging from the bottom of your bed.”
I thanked her and she left the room. She wasn’t gone for twenty seconds, however, before the door opened again. This time, it was Ava, Aunt Danielle and Uncle John coming in and quickly surrounding my bed. Just what I needed at that moment, even more of them swarming me when I couldn’t run. Ava just about pissed me off when she, just like Claire before, tried to hold my hand. After all this time, after everything they did, they suddenly decided to show they cared? I doubted it, and she got the very same reaction as Claire had. It was Uncle John who talked first.
“Well, let me just take a photo of your face for Bill. He asked us to let him know how you are.” he grinned, holding out his phone and taking the picture as he spoke.
“He did? How does he even know?” I asked, perplexed.
“We were just having brunch with him when Claire called us. I got the impression he somehow took a liking to you. Apparently, you’re ‘like the son he never wanted’.” he chuckled.
“Yeah, sounds like Bill.” I commented and tried to reach the bag with my clothes. I immediately regretted it when the pain in my chest came back. The painkillers did not make this easy for me. They completely masked the resting pain, so I kept forgetting about the injuries when I didn’t move, and then screwed up by moving too enthusiastically.
“Tim ... why did you do that? Why did you put yourself in such danger? How could you be so reckless?” Aunt Danielle asked. I didn’t know what she was talking about.
“That may come as a surprise to you, seeing as getting my ass kicked and then being stabbed is normally one of my favorite pastimes, but it wasn’t exactly my choice!” I said, with a voice dripping in sarcasm. Turning to Claire I added “So, where are the fast and not-so-furious?”
Claire just looked at me questioningly.
“Golden Boy and your husband.” I clarified. While John let out a short involuntary laugh before catching himself upon noticing the scolding look from Aunt Danielle, Claire didn’t like my choice of nicknames for them.
“They were still at the police station giving statements when you came out of surgery. Why are you calling them that?” she asked, clearly disapproving.
“I thought the names fit. Aaron had to be told to get his wife and daughter out of harm’s way. And I’m telling you right now, if you keep defending Logan while I am lying here, you better get the fuck out. Did you follow the conversation before this shit blew up? They were there for him! Not me, him! And then, when I was busy defending myself, the asshole ran away, getting me stabbed!” I replied, anger rising in my voice with each word I said.
“Don’t you think you getting stabbed proves that running away would have been the better choice for you as well?” Aunt Danielle asked in a clinical voice.
I couldn’t believe the bitch! Ever since last Christmas, and despite her assurance that she wasn’t exclusively talking to me, she had only been pestering me, not them, to repair our relationship. And now, when I got hurt trying to help the ungrateful fucks, I get scolded for it!
I looked up at the infusion hooked to my hand, and noticed a little button to press that seemed to be connected to it by a cable. I thought it was maybe one of those dispenser-things that release pain meds if I press the button, so I pressed it repeatedly while I answered her.
“Let me point something out for you here. Again, they came for Logan. I suspect they came from Austin, since that’s where he lives and spends most of his free time now, and they said they ‘chased him down here’. So, try to picture this: They armed themselves, went on a multiple-hours long drive to find him, grabbed him, and then threatened him and his family. Following so far? What in all of this makes you believe they would have just gone home if we turned to run away!?” I asked her, now sounding more than just disgruntled. “Ask Bill if you don’t believe me. He taught me de-escalation techniques and I am convinced they wouldn’t have worked. They weren’t angry, or high, or drunk, they had planned to make Logan pay for something, and he knew it! That’s why he was ready to run the moment he saw them, and why they PREVENTED him from running! So, why are you still asking me why I didn’t run?”
“He has a point, Danny.” John pointed out.
“And before you pull any more accusations out of your ass, I didn’t do shit before the guy reached for his weapon!” I added.
“We really need to address that anger inside you, Tim. Why are you so hostile? I just want to help! You could have died!” Aunt Danielle asked, clearly taken aback by my outburst.
“So, THE FUCK, what!?” I remarked, hearing multiple gasps after shocking them with my statement. “If you expected an answer for why I’m hostile to you, maybe it’s because I don’t need a budget-psychologist, who keeps missing the plot, to start criticizing me the minute I wake up from fucking surgery!” I shouted, now clearly pissed. Then I shifted my attention to Claire and Ava.
“And the last people I need to show up right now are you assholes! What, did you think your presence would somehow comfort me!? There’s a reason I moved out! Do I need to paint you a fucking picture before you understand why I spend as little time as possible in your fucking presence!? None of you give a flying fuck about me the whole damn year around, while Princess over there and your Golden Boy can do no wrong, but now, that I’m in the hospital and the police are involved, you suddenly act like you give a damn?! Have you already forgotten why you were in that damn parking lot in the first place? You think...”
At that moment, an older woman in scrubs entered the room and asked me what I needed. I looked at her in angry confusion.
“You’re pressing the call button, Dear.” she said patiently, pointing at the button I was holding.
“Oh...” I said, rapidly trying to curb my temper. “I thought this was one of those drug dispensers I saw on TV. Sorry.”
“Are you in pain?” she asked, now more interested, moving to the foot of my bed to check my chart.
“It’s manageable.”
“Then why are you trying to activate a drug dispenser?” she scolded me with a stern expression.
“Well, you see, my loving family here is giving me shit for being beaten and stabbed. And I just thought the whole thing would be more fun with a little morphine.” I said, matter of fact, holding my left side. The shouting had taken its toll on my ribs and stomach muscles.
The nurse looked from one face to the other. All four of them looked at least somewhat uncomfortable, but Claire looked like she was on the verge of breaking down. Her hands were shaking, balled into fists at her sides. Her lips were trembling, despite her pressing them together to form a thin line. But the most prevalent thing about her appearance at that moment, were the tears rolling down her face while Aunt Danielle tried to silently comfort her.