you had us all a little worried there for a while. Your chest is taped and we’ve repaired the internal damage so you’re going to be just fine, but you’ve got a nice scar on your belly that will make a great conversation starter at the beach. The discomfort you feel in your leg is what’s going to be the worst of it. We had to pin it, so it’s going to take a while to heal. You’ll need physical therapy. The pain you’re feeling now is from the surgeries, and it’ll get better over the next few days, but you’re going to be pretty sore for a while. That cast is going to drive you bonkers for about eight weeks. You’ll know when the weather is about to change, too.”
The morphine filled my brain like a convective fog that floats over a pond and while I heard the words the doctor spoke, their meaning was lost. I stared dumbly at him and when he stopped talking, I said, “Okay.”
“Your leg is broken, Son,” my father said. “The surgery took almost four hours.”
“We used an artificial bone graft material, along with a few pins,” the doctor said. “Had lots of success with it in the past, so you’re going to be alright. There’s always a slight chance of infection, but we got you cleaned out pretty good. I’ll check on you in the morning. The nurses will be in to bother you every time you’re about to fall asleep. Good night.”
I reached out and found the pain button and pushed it. Twice. I looked at Cora and motioned her over to the bed. “Where’s my gun and badge?”
“We’ve got them, Jonesy. They were there, at the scene. Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay.”
“Listen, Jonesy,” Cora said. “I’m going to get out of here and let you rest. Sandy’ll fill you in on everything. Donatti and Rosencrantz were here earlier while you were still out. They said to let you know they’d be back in the morning. The Governor sends his best. I’ll check on you tomorrow.”
I could feel the morphine, its warmth flowing through me as if my blood were being heated then recycled through my veins. “Okay.”
After Cora left Sandy moved closer and stood at the edge of the bed, her hand resting on my upper arm, her touch light and cautious. I could feel her tremble. “My god, Virgil, you could have been killed.”
I was drifting now, and there were still questions I wanted to ask, but I could not seem to get them out. “I heard the sirens, Sandy. I saw my mom, too. She was there. I think she was there with me the entire time.”
My father was sitting in a visitor’s chair in the corner of the room, and when he heard what I said he walked over to the side of the bed. “What was that, Son? Say that again, will you?”
But the drugs pulled me back under and I don’t think I answered him.
The doctor was right. The nurses did come in every time I fell asleep. It got to the point where I thought they were all sadists. The doctor ordered rest, but then they didn’t let you get any. But the next time I woke on my own, the light of the day peeked through the slats of the window blinds and I could hear the business end of patient care coming alive from the other side of the door to my room. Sandy lay under a thin hospital blanket, curled in a ball on a recliner next to the window. I watched her sleep and felt ashamed at the pain she had endured because of my injuries.
My leg still hurt like hell, but it was not as bad as last night. The pain was more isolated, and not over my entire body like it had been before. I found the call button for the nurse and pressed it, and when she came into the room I asked her about switching to a pain pill instead of the IV drip. “It’s making me pretty loopy,” I said.
“I’ll have to clear it with the doctor,” she said. “But between you and me, I don’t think you’re ready just yet. In the meantime, don’t be a hero. Hit that pain button if you have to. Loopy ain’t all bad, honey.”
A short time later an orderly wheeled in a breakfast tray and set the cart next to the bed. All the in and out woke Sandy and I watched as she stretched, yawned, and then walked over to the bed. She leaned in and kissed me, hard, on the lips.
“You should have gone home last night,” I said.
“Would you have?”
“No.”
“So, okay then.”
My leg was throbbing now, the pain worse as I became fully awake. “I was thinking about last night. The way you called me Virgil.”
The door opened and Rosencrantz and Donatti walked in. “Of course she called you Virgil. That’s your name, isn’t it?” He looked over at Donatti. “Isn’t that his name?”
Donatti nodded. “Yep. Hey Small, what’s shaking? Did you know his middle name is Francis?”
“About time you woke up,” Rosencrantz said as he lifted the lid on my food tray. “What’s for breakfast?” He put the lid back down. “Geez, are they trying to cure you or kill you?”
“You know, you don’t get jack shit for workmen’s comp in Indiana,” Donatti said. “I think you’re faking.”
“Yeah, definitely faking,” Rosencrantz said.
“Hey, is it true you can predict when it’s going to rain, now?” Donatti said. “I heard TV 8 is looking for a new weatherman.”
“I’ll bet they’re giving you some good shit for the pain. Can I have some?” Rosencrantz said.
I looked at Sandy with my best ‘help me’ expression, but when she held her hands up in a ‘what can you do gesture,’ I did the only logical thing I could think to do. I said fuck it and pressed the pain button again.
The room spun and I felt like I was caught in a vortex. Rosencrantz and Donatti were standing under the television, their heads tilted up toward the set, watching something on the screen. A few minutes later when the rush of the morphine tapered off I looked at Sandy and motioned for her to lean in closer. “Did you hear what I was saying before Mutt and Jeff walked in?”
“Yes, I did,” she said. “But it wasn’t last night. That was five days ago, Virgil.”
Rosencrantz turned his head and said, “What was last night?”
I ignored him, but Sandy turned her head and said, “We’re talking about something else. Last night was nothing.”
“You know how many times I’ve heard a woman tell me that?” Donatti said.
Sandy shot him a look and then turned her attention back to me. “What are you talking about?” I said. “What do you mean it was five days ago?”
Sandy had her hand on my leg. “You’ve sort of been in and out over the last few days.”
“What?” I could not believe what I was hearing. “What day is this?” I said.
“It’s Friday,” Sandy said.
Donatti looked over at Sandy and me and said, “Hey, am I Mutt or Jeff? I think I’m Jeff. I’m Jeff, right?”
The door to my room opened and a nurse came in and told me the doctor had given the okay for Oxycontin instead of the morphine drip for my pain and then she disconnected the IV from my arm. I thought when she took the tape off of my arm-that hurt like a bitch-that maybe they should have left the IV in after all. The nurse told me that the Oxycontin would probably, in her words, bind me up some, but not much worse than the morphine did.
“That’s all right,” Rosencrantz said. “He’s full of shit anyway.”
I looked at him and thought if the food in here didn’t kill me, the cop humor probably would. When I looked at Sandy she mouthed a silent ‘I love you’ to me and I felt my eyes water at the edges.
It became quiet in the room for a minute, then Rosencrantz looked at Donatti and said, “I kinda like the way she calls him Virgil, don’t you?”
Sandy shook her head, then stood and said, “Hey guys, I think we need to let Virgil get his rest.” She placed her hand on my shoulder and gave me a little squeeze. Then to Rosencrantz and Donatti, she said, “What do you say?”
“Yeah,” Doantti said. She’s right. “Virgil’s tired.”
Rosencrantz turned and gave me a little finger wave. “Okay, bye, Virgil. We’ll see you tomorrow.
Sandy waved them out. “I’ll catch up with you guys after while,” she said.
When they were out of the room, I pulled myself up in the bed a little. I could feel the tape around my ribcage. “See what you’ve started,” I said.
“I’ll talk to them,” Sandy said.
“Aw geez, don’t do that.”
“Well what do you want me to do?”
