That’s when Tom came through the door. He nodded at us, “Grab your stuff. We can see Jim now.”
fifteen
Hostile Healings
Jim
I’m having a hard time opening my eyes. My head feels light. I hear mumbling, whispers. Who’s here? Where is here? I heard several statements, but nothing made sense.
“He is going to be out of commission for at least two weeks.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Me, neither.”
“Only one of you can stay.
“Let’s go, I need to get back to handle some things, and I can’t have him down there at the moment anyway.”
Who is going to be out of commission? Who is here? Ugh, I’m so tired.Maybe if I…
I startled awake from a dream. Charlie and I were holding hands, walking down the street in the city. With a little boy holding my other hand and a little girl being held by Charlie.
Where did that ridiculous fantasy come from?
That’s when I noticed Charlie was in a chair next to me, head laying on his arms, asleep. He was wearing ill-fitting clothes that were clearly not his.
Ummmmmm.
I looked around the small space that was curtained off. I was in a communal hospital ward. Only a small trash can and the chair Charlie was sitting in. I heard voices and movement all around us on the other side of the curtain.
What happened?
My head was a little floaty. I could probably go back to sleep. I went to shift to a different position but strained in pain, and sucked air through my teeth. I was propped up by a pillow wedged under me to help keep me more on my right side. That’s when the memory of down in the mine came back to me.
But the noise and me jolting woke Charlie and his head shot up. “You’re awake.”
I grunted in a grimace.
Charlie went to touch my hand but pulled back, looking around our fabric enclosed space. Looking back at me with worry in his eyes, he stood up to move around my bed, “Let me go get someone. Tell them you are awake.”
“What happened?” My voice came out like I swallowed straight chunks of coal.
The question froze Charlie still standing at the foot of the bed, his posture collapsing on itself. Tears filled his eyes, but not overflowing. His mouth opened and closed a couple times like he was trying to get out theanswer, but either was stuck in his throat or kept changing his mind.
“Charlie, come here please,” I reached out my left hand since I’m leaning against my right. But when I over extended, more pain shot through me from my back. I sucked in air again. Charlie rushed over and took my hand in his, but not to hold it. He put it back down on the bed.
“I’m so sorry, Jim.” He looked beside himself. “You are here because of me. Because I didn’t listen to the warnings you and others gave me.” A single tear slipped out.
“Sit down Charlie, you are shaking. Take a couple breaths,” I tried to calm him down, trying to express with my eyes and face that it’s okay, but I didn’t think it was coming across correctly with whatever drugs they gave me and the pain I was feeling. I opened my palm to him instead because he seemed to calm better when he’s touching someone. Or at least that worked after we left the bar, at the restaurant, and when we were in the mine car.
After taking my fingers in his, he took a couple breaths, his eyes staying closed like he couldn’t look at me when he said, “I got you stabbed.”
Okay. Well, that explains the pain.
But when did that happen?
Even though it’s fuzzy, I remembered the verbal confrontation with Richard and Dan before Charlie shot his mouth off and Richard charging and me jumping in front of Charlie, but I didn’t ever remember seeing a knife at any point.
