PART FIVE
Chris lay in his hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. He had been staring at it for so long that he had begun to see words and strange patterns amid the ceiling tiles. Captain Lipschitz was coming to see him soon. Finally some questions could be put to rest. Today was also the day that he was to start physical therapy. But, so far, no one had come to get him. It wouldn't have surprised him if Candi Dawes had been in charge of getting him to therapy. She was a complete airhead.
He sat up in bed, wincing a little at the brief flare of pain that shot through his chest. For the thousandth time, he wondered how he had ended up here in the hospital in Boca Raton. His memory was finally starting to come back to him, and yesterday's hour-long long-distance phone call with Jillian in Boston helped fill some memory gaps still remaining in his brain. But a question that no one could answer was how the hell he ended up in that alley.
Chris looked down at his left hand. His gold wedding ring reflected the fluorescent ceiling lights in the room. He twisted the ring around his finger, the inscription inside running through his mind over and over again. Although he still didn't remember their wedding, the love he must have felt for Rita came back to him so naturally that he knew that they had made the right choice in deciding to marry.
He reached for the bedside phone and dialed Rita's number. Dr. Miller had cautioned him about contacting Rita because she still didn't know he wasn't dead, but Chris just had to talk to her. She was all he thought about these days. Frustrated, Chris slammed down the receiver. Disconnected. If he didn't talk to Rita soon, he'd die.
Suddenly, the door to Chris's room opened and Dr. Miller walked in.
"How's the patient?"
"Not so good, doc," Chris replied.
Miller's brow furrowed as he reached out to feel Chris's forehead for signs of fever. Chris brushed his hand away.
"No, nothing's physically wrong with me. I'm just frustrated. Is the Cap here yet?"
Miller relaxed as it became obvious that Chris was not sick. "No, but the front desk will beep me when he arrives. I'll go get him and bring him to you."
Miller began to examine Chris, asking him questions about how he was feeling. Chris wounds were healing nicely, but he noticed that Chris winced slightly when he probed them. He made a mental note to berate Candi Dawes for not taking Chris to PT sooner.
The shrill whine of the doctor's beeper cut through the conversation. Chris sat up quickly and gasped as pain sliced through his shoulder. Miller stood up and made Chris lie back on the pillow. "It's not the front desk, but it's from somewhere in the hospital. I'll just be a moment." He took a cellular phone from the pocket of his lab coat and dialed the extension that glowed in green numbers on the beeper's digital display.
"Miller here."
It was Mike Abrams from the mental health wing. He had found another volunteer for the hospital. Miller was only halfway listening to the conversation as he wondered for the thousandth time why he had ever agreed to coordinate the volunteer program. It just took up too much of his time.
Suddenly, Abrams's voice rang in his ears. "Her name is Rita Lorenzo."
A cold shiver ran down Miller's back. "Mike, what was the lady's name again?"
"Lorenzo, Rita Lorenzo. Is everything all right?"
This was no coincidence. It just had to be Chris's wife. He couldn't possibly allow Rita and Chris to meet until he was sure of the situation. After all, for all Rita knew, Chris had been dead since December. A shock like that could be devastating.
Miller desperately tried to remain in control of his shaking hands. He didn't want to alert Chris that something was up. He managed to get through the conversation--noting that Rita would be matched up with Candi, no less--without mentioning Rita's name aloud. After he hung up with Abrams, Miller took a deep breath to calm himself.
Chris stared warily at the doctor. Something was up, and Miller wasn't talking. Chris hated being left in the dark about something that concerned him. He knew that it concerned him because he had seen Miller furtively glance at him before turning away and lowering his voice.
Miller resumed the examination. Chris noticed that Miller's hands were shaking despite the doctor's attempts to hide it. A few minutes later, the beeper went off again, and this time it was Miller who jumped at the sound.
"It's the front desk." He dialed the extension and spoke briefly to someone before hanging up in disgust. "He can't come today. Something about his wife thinking he's having an affair. She won't let him leave the office for lunch."
Chris smiled. Typical Frannie.
Miller said, "He rescheduled for three days from now. Meanwhile, you'll start PT as soon as possible, and I'll continue to track down your, uh, wife."
Chris noticed the slight faltering in the doctor's composure, but let it pass without comment.
Questions? Comments? Criticisms? Smart remarks? Email me at kdl@gulf.net. Just write "Karen's Story, part five" on the subject line. Oh, and by the way, if you really hated this story, don't bother to write and tell me. I'll probably just ignore you. Thanks. No infringement intended on anything, anyone, anywhere, at anytime, for any reason whatsoever.
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