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We exchange a smile and before we can say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. It pops open and a smiley woman with dark skin pops her head in. “Mr. Redford?”
“Rex,” I say.
She smiles bigger. “Okay. Rex. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Karim. But since we’re on a first-name basis, you can call me Amina. I wanted to check in on you and see how you’re feeling.”
“Like shit,” I say, maintaining an easy smile.
She giggles.
And I can just tell.
She’s a fan.
“Well, that’s not surprising. You had a serious accident. But you’re out of the woods, which is good. No broken bones, no head trauma. Just some internal bleeding that will heal with some rest. And you went into cardiac arrest. So we need to keep strain off your heart. You’re looking at a few days here in the hospital.”
I sigh. “Can’t I just –“
“Hey, man, she’s a doctor. Listen to her,” Blaise says then looks to Amina. “I’m sorry, my friend sometimes has a bit of a macho man complex. Tries to push through the pain and – you know one time –”
“Blaise,” I say through clenched teeth, a warning.
“One time, he played a whole concert not knowing that he had a broken pinky finger. That thing was big and purple by the time we were –”
“Blaise.”
“Anyway.” Blaise clears his throat. “Sorry, I’m Blaise. I’m his –”
At the same time Blaise says “friend”, Amina says “bandmate.”
Her eyes widen with shock. “I’m sorry. I’m – I didn’t mean to –“ She attempts to smile. “I’m a big fan of your band.”
I can’t manage to pretend like that’s a nice thing to hear right now. I can’t even be normal in the hospital? Is nowhere sacred?
“Thanks!” Blaise says. “That’s nice of you.”
Amina ducks her head down, eyelashes fluttering.
“Is that all?” I ask edgily. Blaise glares at me for being an asshole which is probably fair.
She hops to attention. “Oh, no, I just wanted to check in on how you’re feeling. Check on your bleeding and see if you need more fluids or –”
“Great. That’s great,” I say. “Um, sorry, I don’t mean to be a jerk, I just –“
Amina shakes her head. “No, I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have brought up that I was a fan. That was inappropriate.”
I appreciate that she understands. I try to smile. “No, you saved my life. The least I can do is –”
“Well, I didn’t,” she says. “I mean, I helped, but the credit really goes to Dr. Delgado.”
I blink. “Doctor…”
“Delgado,” she says simply as if she hasn’t just dropped a bomb right into my lap and watched my insides paint the hospital room walls. “She’s the one who, you know, shouted ‘clear!’ and everything,” she says through another giggle.
I say nothing.
Dr. Delgado.
“Damn, I didn’t know that was actually a real thing doctors said,” Blaise says.
