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Chapter 28
BRIDGET
Past
Aunt Coretta has a sixth sense that knows no geographic boundaries. As I’m packing up my stuff to head to the hospital, which includes my laptop, class reading, and a change of clothes, I get a call from her.
“Thought I’d check in and see how you’ve been doing,” she says. “I got used to hearing from you every day when you were in Thailand, so it felt weird not getting a text or call from you in weeks.”
“I was going to call you today…” I reply, then launch into what happened yesterday: Darren and JD getting shot and undergoing surgery, talking to the police, and Sergeant Trawley’s thoughts on why it happened.
“How awful,” Coretta says. “I thought San Francisco was a fairly safe city.”
“It is, in general.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m rattled, but I’m just so glad that Darren’s okay. I mean, being shot isn’t okay, but it could have been worse.”
I have to assure Coretta multiple times that I’m okay. A loud noise coming from outside did make me jump earlier this morning, but either I have a delayed reaction to the shooting or I’m too fixed on Darren right now for the trauma to sink in. Part of me wonders if I should be crying it out, like Amy did when telling her mother about it on the phone. Amy’s mother wanted to fly up, but Amy argued against it.
She and I arrive at the hospital just after lunch. We hang out for several hours because JD and Darren aren’t cleared for discharge yet. I work on classwork while Darren takes a nap. JD and Amy channel surf and scroll through stuff on their cellphones. I might be imagining things, but it seems JD looks my way a lot. Maybe he thinks I look frumpy in my jeans and a Cal hoodie that’s one size too large for me.
Around dinnertime, JD and Darren are finally discharged with their antibiotics, Vicodin, instructions for changing the bandages, and follow-up appointments. Darren has his arm in a sling, and JD will need crutches. Both will also need physical therapy when they’ve healed enough.
“I wasn’t shot in the legs,” Darren tells the nurse with the wheelchair.
“Hospital rules,” she explains.
JD’s driver awaits him and Amy while Marshall drives Darren and me back to the club. I gasp when I step into Darren’s residence.
Usually a dim ceiling light comes on automatically when he passes the threshold, but it doesn’t this time. The place remains dark except for the light provided by a candelabra atop the dining table, which has been covered by a tablecloth and several dishes, all gorgeously plated.
I turn to Darren, who doesn’t look surprised at all.
“Cheryl arranged it,” he explains. “It’s not as nice as being at Ishikawa West, but at least you’ve got a celebration dinner.”
“That is soooo sweet of her!”
I place my backpack down and out of the way. We walk over to the table. I gawk at the spread. “She shouldn’t have,” I murmur.
“Why the hell not?” Darren asks, pulling out a chair for me.
“In a way, it’s my fault. If we weren’t going out to celebrate—”
“Don’t even finish that bullshit thought.”
I sit down, then stand back up. “I should be getting the chair for you.”
“Sit down. And don’t treat me like an invalid,” he threatens as he takes the bottle of champagne out of the bucket of ice.
“I can open that,” I say.
“You’ve never opened a bottle of champagne before.”
“You don’t know that.”
He lifts a brow.
