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“That’s the stuff I worry about. I’m starting to remember things. When I pulled him out of the car, his butt sort of hit the pavement. I hoped his legs weren’t broken. I wasn’t alone, though; someone helped me pull his body out of harm’s way.” Dale sat on my bed, listening to me drone on. “I’m going to drive you guys crazy if I don’t go back to work.”
“We’ll be fine.” She stood. “I’m going to put my earplugs in and try to go back to sleep. If that hound next door barks all day, I’ll call the police, and they can deal with the reporters.”
The words were just out of her mouth when the doorbell rang.
“That does it. I’m calling the police.”
She did, and they came out right away to chase the satellite trucks away. But for how long?
My phone rang. It was Lillian. “Did I wake you?”
“No, Mom. The satellite trucks did.”
I didn’t tell her about the flowers. It felt so personal. I was even sorry Dale knew about them. And I didn’t feel right asking her not to tell the others. Maybe she’d forget.
“It’s still headline news. Do you watch TV?” she asked.
“Not often.”
“There’s a video of Brian carrying you into the hospital. They catch a glimpse of your face. It’s not very flattering. It almost looks like you’re sticking your tongue out at the camera. Anyway, your father wanted me to phone and see how you’re doing. Do you need anything? Grandma is having a cow. She wants to bring soup.”
“I’ll take soup! I’d love soup.”
“Okay, I’ll have Margo bring it over. Get some rest. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”
“You didn’t, and I will rest. Goodbye, Mom.”
She’d disturbed me, but I was going to try for nice this time around. It was obvious the incident had upset my family, and I appreciated their concern, as annoying as it was.
They’d been ticked off at me since I couldn’t pass the state boards and had never missed an opportunity to remind me and admonish me for it. I could be the bigger person and move on from their treatment of me if it meant I could have a pleasant relationship with them. Or superficially pleasant.
After ending the call, I went back to researching Flynn Safadi. He was the dream son. One accomplishment after another that would make a parent proud. Magna cum laude, University of Michigan. Harvard University Medical School. Plastic Surgery Residency, University of Michigan. Fellowship in Reconstructive and Facial Plastic Surgery, UCLA.
I looked over at the bouquet, thinking of his next life-changing surgery on the child who had been shot in the face that Brian had told me about.
I remembered my nursing school rotation through the operating room and how I hadn’t thought it would be the place where I’d end up. Watching the point of the scalpel blade pressed against the skin for that first cut? No.
Shivering, I thought of that procedure inflicted upon facial skin, around susceptible eyes and tender lips, and knew that anyone who could do that, who was skilled enough to repair a serious gunshot wound like that young girl supposedly had, was special indeed. Flynn Safadi.
Images of him flew through my mind, vivid memories of pale skin except for a drip of dark red blood moving toward his starched white collar, his muscular thighs and flat abdomen…
A knock on the door thankfully interrupted my daydreams that were going to dangerous places. It was Dale.
“Margo’s here with our dinner,” she said happily. “I was just about to make a PB and J.”
“That might be better than my grandmother’s soup,” I whispered.
Margo peeked into the room, sputtering with laughter. “It’s pretty good this time. Lillian helped her. It’s more chicken and rice, less dishwater and celery.”
“She doesn’t literally mean dishwater,” I explained to Dale.
“I have an old grannie, too, whose soup isn’t what it used to be,” Dale said. “Come on, princess. You need to get out of bed and move around before you get blood clots.”
Laughing at her, I got out of bed. Dale came alongside to offer her arm, making me laugh more, but it gave me the opportunity to ask her not to tell Margo about the flowers. But I wasn’t fast enough, and she saw them.
“Oh my God. Who are those beauties from?”
Fortunately, I’d stuck the card under the blanket.
