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The doctor’s voice was curt. Pierced. And I would have given anything to see my father’s face. The argument halted in its tracks before Cecilia apologized. But all I heard from my father was the lumbering of footsteps, murmuring and stumbling. Cursing. I heard the clicking of Cecilia’s heels as they left the room.
“Howard. Get back here!”
I let my eyes fall open as I stared at the ceiling. The doctor walked around me, checking vitals and shining that godforsaken light in my eyes. I wanted to rip that damn flashlight out of his hand and bash him over the head with it. Or shove it up his ass. One of the two.
“The talk with the police wear you out?”
I shrugged. “Got it over with.”
“Sometimes that’s the best course of action.”
“What day is it?”
He chuckled. “Still Friday. Just after lunch. Almost two, I think? Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“Well, I’ll get the nurse to run down to the kitchen. The lunch trays have already gone by, but I’m sure she can pick you up something that is suitable for your current diet.”
I sighed. “Ah, yes. The boring, no fun foods diet.”
He snickered. “I’ve been on that diet before. It’s more or less so nothing interacts with the medications you’re on. Like food dyes and such.”
“Just don’t have anyone attempt to mix up white rice and a banana again. I don’t know who decided that was a good thing, but it isn’t.”
The doctor took a few notes, then pressed my morphine button. I was on my last pump of it. After today, no more morphine. I wasn’t sure how I’d take that. How my body would react to it. Or what kind of pain I’d be in. But any step down was a step closer to home. And a step closer to Rae.
Which was where I wanted to be.
I heard the doctor talking to Cecilia outside. But I didn’t hear my father. No shocker there, of course. He probably stormed off and used this fight as an excuse to get more work done. And if it was up to me? He’d stay gone. He didn't help. He wasn’t supportive. And, apparently, this accident was all my fault. At the very least, I didn’t deserve an ounce of pity until it was proven that I didn’t cause my almost-death.
He could fuck off with all that bullshit.
“Clint? Can you hear me?”
I nodded as I cleared my throat. Cecilia sat down beside me again, taking my hand like she had this morning.
“Dad’s gone again, isn’t he?”
“You know how he is.”
I snickered. “Yeah, yeah. I know how he is.”
That seemed to be the excuse for my father more days than not nowadays.
“How are you feeling, Clint?”
I sighed. “Better. But the doctor also just pressed my morphine button, so…”
“I was on morphine once, you know. A little ball drip thing fastened around my waist in a fanny pack.”
“That when you got your boobs done?”
I didn’t catch the question before it flew out of my mouth. But I was kind of glad I didn’t. Because it launched Cecilia into another story of her life I would have never expected from her.
“Actually, yes. It was a reconstructive surgery I got when I was twenty. Saved up almost my entire life for it.”
I paused. “Reconstructive surgery?”
