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I’ll get through this. No pain, no gain, as they say. I may not win immediately. But I never lose in the end. Soon, Emily will realize this too.
I almost regret my decision about the pain meds when they wheel me back to my room from radiology. But then, it wasn’t my mother I was expecting to see standing at my bedside. Clearly, the hospital has made a mistake. Medical errors have been reported to be the third leading cause of death in the United States. Calling the wrong person—in this case, my mother—just might be the death of me.
“Hello, mother.” She turns and drops her handbag when she sees me. Dramatic as ever, she doesn’t stop there. She gasps, covers her mouth with her hands and rushes to my side. If this were a movie, she’d win an Academy Award. Hands down. “Oh dear God, Elliot.” She takes my chin in her hands, causing me to wince.
“Oh, sweetheart. Let me get a look at you…” She tilts my head to one side and then the other. “What have they done?”
“They beat the shit out of me,” I say, because my mother requires a bit of heading off. If you aren’t blunt, she’ll steamroll you every time.
Her brow knits together. “No one beats a Parker, darling. You know that.”
“You’re wrong about that,” I say, gesturing to my injuries. “Particularly when the odds are five to one.”
My mother opens her mouth to speak before closing again. Finally, she can’t help herself. “Why must you make me feel guilty all the time?” She squeezes my chin. “You know I came as fast as I could.”
She’s dressed to the nines, so, obviously, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. Not that I care. I would have been happy if she hadn’t come at all.
“You have no idea how worried I’ve been…”
“I bet I do.” Everything is about her, and it helps to keep it that way.
“Oh, darling. Tell me they’re taking good care of you?”
“Yes, but I’m being released today.”
She perches herself on the edge of the hospital bed. “You’re going home?”
I nod again. “That’s right.”
“Is it safe? I mean, we don’t
even know who did this.”
“It’s fine.”
She shakes her head and then lifts her handbag from the floor. Hospitals are filthy places. I tell her to order a new one. On me. “I need to speak with your physicians,” she says, apprising me. “This is absurd. Back in my day, they didn’t just throw you out of the hospital the way they do now, like it’s some sort of drive-thru. That’s the problem with your generation, you know. They want everything instantaneous. Healing takes time.”
“I’ll heal just fine in my own bed.”
“But who will look after you?”
“I’ll manage.”
She tilts her head and then lowers her voice. “You haven’t told them who you are, have you?”
“What?”
“You’re a senator’s son, darling. That counts for something. We have pull you know…”
“There’s no need for any of that, mother. Studies show patients heal faster at home.”
“I…I,” she stammers. She can’t argue with science. “I’ll have to cancel bridge and lunch with my Tuesday group. You know how I hate to do that…”
“You don’t have to,” I say. “Emily is coming.”
Her eyes land heavily on mine. “What makes you think that?”
“I don’t think. I’m sure of it.”
