“Hey! Look who’s awake! Don’t move around too much, I’ll go get the doctor.” All I could see was red hair and a big smile. She had a nice voice, too. Who is she? Where am I?
“Where am I?” I whispered, but she didn’t answer. I closed my eyes. I was so tired. I wiggled my toes, or at least thought I did. I wasn’t sure what I felt, or if I even moved at all. Next thing I knew, I heard more visitors come into my room.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Fitzgerald. Welcome back to the land of the living. You are one lucky guy.”
“Where am I?”
“Nurse, get him some water, please. I’m Dr. Patel, you’re in the hospital, you’ve had a nasty accident. I have been responsible for your care during your stay. Are you coherent? Can you see me? Do you remember anything at all?”
“Whoa, hold on, Doc. I'm spinning, here.” I hated this feeling. Helpless, I could barely grab the flimsy paper cup from the nurse. I finally managed, drank the water and handed her back the empty. “Can I have some more, please?” I could have drunk the whole fucking pitcher if my hands could have held it right. She handed me back the flimsy cup and I drank it all down again. I needed to know what had happened. The doctor held my eyes open one by one and shone a light into them. Desperation and confusion swirled around in my fuzzy brain. I tried to remember what had put me here, to put the pieces together, but so far, nothing. “Can somebody please tell me what happened?”
Dr. Patel checked a few other places on my body with his cold stethoscope, which made me flinch a little. “The emergency care staff was told that you had been in a car accident, a big wreck of some sort. When you arrived, we thought you had a broken neck or at the very least a broken collarbone.” He flipped the covers up off my feet and poked them. Thankfully, they both responded to his pin, though I wasn't happy to see a tube hanging out of my dick, and figured that’s probably why I didn’t need to use the toilet.
“How long— I mean, how long have I been asleep?” Flashes of what had happened bounced around in my brain. Car accident. Mollie. “Where’s Mollie? Is she okay?”
“Mr. Fitzgerald, You’ve been sleeping for three days. Before you start moving around, you need to start slow. Take it easy. You have a concussion and a crack in your collarbone. It is a very small, thin fracture but it can create much pain. Don’t be in a hurry to get around. You are a miracle. Whichever God you pray to, you should give him many thanks.”
I nodded and lay back on my pillow. Dr. Patel was right. I was a lucky man. I remembered having a conversation with God about wanting to live. At least, I think I did. My eyes watered, was I crying?
Dr. Patel stood by me and patted my arm. “It’s going to be okay. The worst is over I believe, but it will take some time for the bone to heal properly and the stitches to heal. You will need a brace for a few weeks but after that, you should be fine. I’ll be back in the morning to check on you. This nice nurse will get you some food and something to drink. I’m sure you feel very hungry, but go slow at first. We need to make sure all your systems are working properly after your surgery.”
“Surgery? I had surgery?”
“Yes, you had some internal bleeding that caused a slight cardiac arrest and we—”
“—cardiac arrest? A heart attack?” He had a thick accent, and my head was cloudy, but I understood heart attack very well. Fuck me!
“Yes, a small heart attack. We stabilized your vitals, went in, and stopped the bleeding. You are a very young man to have such damage to your heart. When we see a person’s heart in that condition, it usually means that person has done some damage to their organs.”
“Whoa, okay, so what do I have to do?” My head pounded. I couldn’t believe everything that was happening. I was still wrapping my head around what the doctor had said, but my body felt like it had been hit by a truck and thrown into the ditch to die.
“You tested positive for illegal drugs. How often do you use them?” the doctor asked me. They know.
“Dude, am I in trouble?”
“Mr. Fitzgerald, I am not the police. I don’t care if you use drugs or not. I need to know what you are using and how often so I can treat you properly. Drugs almost killed you, and that was after the accident.
I sighed. “Is ‘often’ a good enough answer?”
He wrote some notes on my chart. No cops flew in to arrest me, so I guessed I was okay. For a while, anyway.
“Drug of choice?” he asked. I wasn’t about to tell him everything.
“Pot. Alcohol.” I answered, hoping it was tame enough to keep the cops away.
“Marijuana is not going to do that to you. Anything else?”
I bowed my head, as if I was thinking. I didn’t want to tell him about the blow. If I did, then the cops would be raiding the street races more often and I didn't want to go down for this. “Nope. Nothing else.” I lied. I didn't care if he knew it or not. “I’m really tired, can we talk about this later?”
He closed his clipboard cover, smiled and said, “Sure, I’ll see you in the morning. Just call the nurse if you need anything,” and with that, he walked out the door. I looked around the room. The clock on the wall said it was twelve-thirty. I didn’t even know what day it was. Monday? The doc said I’d been out for three days. Wednesday? I ran my hands through my hair; it was still dirty and greasy. I needed a shower but I needed to sleep more. Must’ve been the drugs they were giving me.
When I woke up, I felt more refreshed and I was starving. I reached for the call button and the nurse answered. “Yes sir?”
“Uhm, I’m kind of hungry. And I’d like to go to the bathroom.”
“I’ll be right there, sir.” She sounded nice.
A tall nurse arrived with big hair. She was probably about as old as my mother, but looked a lot nicer. She obviously hadn’t let alcohol and drugs take over her life. “What do you need, Mr. Fitzgerald?”
“Can I go to the bathroom?”
“You can’t get up right now, you have a catheter in. Don’t worry about using the bathroom, the tube will catch it, unless you need to do something else?”
“Nope, just got to pee. Listen, uhm—I had a stainless dick ring and was wondering where it was.”
“Dick ring? I don’t follow.”
“Yeah, I have a piercing on my junk,” I chuckled. I didn't feel embarrassed since they’ve all seen me naked and someone must have removed the ring.
She looked at me and lifted an eyebrow, as she shook her head. “Pierced junk? That’s a new one. I’ll have to find out, but you know you can’t wear anything on your private parts until the catheter comes out?”
“Yes, ma’am. I totally understand.”
She came closer and examined my IV bags. “Are you feeling any pain right now?” I nodded. “Listen, I’ll see what I can do about getting that catheter out, that’s the doctor’s call. Sometimes they leave it in if they think you may need another surgery but the doctor said you’re clear. If he says yes, I can get someone in here in about 30 minutes. In the meantime, you'll have to just let it go.” She checked the urinal bag. “You've got plenty of room left and I know it feels humiliating, but don't worry about it, you’ve been through the ringer. Dinner will be here soon. Let’s get some food inside you and I’ll give you something else for pain after that. Where did they put your things?” She checked the drawers but found nothing. “That’s funny. They usually leave the patient’s stuff in a drawer. Let me check at the desk and see what happened. Was your phone in your pocket?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay, I’ll check and I’ll be right back.” She strolled out of the room. Man, she was a tall chick. I could tell I’d been on pain meds. I’d always had loopy thoughts when I took any kind of pills. That’s why I stuck to weed and coke, all the high and none of the loopiness.
True to her word, the tall, lanky nurse returned with the phone. “Here you go. Your stuff is behind the desk because your clothing had to be cut off of you when you came in.” She handed it to me. “And this
is what might be a junk-piercing-ring,” she laughed, and she handed me a plastic bag with my wallet, and ring.
I was happy to see my things. I tapped on my phone, but it was dead.
“Not working?”
“No, it's dead. Won’t even turn on.”
“Hand it here, let me see what kind you got. We’ve got all kinds of chargers behind the desk. Let me see if I can find one that matches. I’ll bring this back in a little while and you can probably smell dinner, it’s just down the hall.”
“Thanks, nurse…”
“I’m Virginia. I’ll be here until eleven o’clock.”
“Have you been here the whole time?” I accepted the cup of water she handed me.
“No, I came in at three, why? Wondering if you had any visitors?” She smiled, maybe she wasn’t so bad after all. Virginia pulled some cards off the flowers and brought them to me. “Yes, you did have some visitors. A bunch of kids, your mother and one of the nurses seemed kind of concerned about you—Mollie.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the cards. Ricky and a few of the kids had scribbled their name on one. Mollie’s pretty handwriting was on the other. “Get well soon, Jack.” I clutched them in my hand. These folks cared about me—and that mattered. A lot.
“You should know, and I’m not supposed to say anything,” she lowered her voice, “but the police have been here. They want to talk to you about the accident. They think you’re involved in some kind of illegal activities. Just wanted to give you a heads up. The detective isn’t here right now, but he will be back in a bit.”
I suddenly felt tired, again. “Oh…thanks for letting me know.”
“No problem, I have a son too. He’s not squeaky clean but I’d like to keep him out of trouble if I could.”
“Thank you, Virginia. I appreciate that.”
“No problem, I’ll go charge your phone.” My dinner came in and thankfully, the orderly was kind enough to show me how to work the buttons on my bed. I was famished! It smelled delicious and my mouth watered as I removed the lid. Chicken, my favorite and some mashed potatoes. I dug in and thought about what I would tell the police.
Now my chest and shoulder screamed louder than my stomach. “Nurse!” I frantically tapped the nurse’s call button.
“Yes, sir?”
“It hurts! I need something or something’s wrong! It friggin hurts!”
“On the way!”
I pushed my plate away, sat back and hoped I wouldn’t throw up. I couldn’t handle this and if I was a pussy, then I was a pussy, but it fucking hurt. Virginia came in with a needle and carefully shot the liquid into my IV while she talked with me until it took effect “Thank you, it's easing up now.”
“Alright, Mr. Fitzgerald. I’ll move your tray out of the way and don’t worry about guests. I’ll let them know you can’t talk right now.” She squeezed my hand, I felt my eyes get heavy and heavier and I began to fall asleep.
“Okay, I’m so sleepy…” I couldn’t talk anymore. Mollie was waiting for me. She was sitting on the hood of my car, her legs spread and a lustful look on her face. “Come fuck me Jack.”
This was going to be an awesome race.
Chapter Five — Mollie
By the time I got to my car, my hands shook so badly I could barely slide the key in the ignition. Dad had made it clear; he didn’t want me anywhere near Jack and he also made it clear if I continued my “friendship” with him, I would suffer the consequences. As I slid the car out of the driveway, I replayed the scene in my head. I could hardly believe the level of his hostility or my equally hostile response.
I sat at my desk with my headphones on, listening to my professor drone on and on about IV procedures. I already knew most of what he was talking about but on the off chance that I'd missed something, I decided to review the tape. Cuddled up at my desk with my back to the door, I hadn’t heard Dad come in, but I did notice the lights flickering and turned around to see him playing with the light fixture. So obnoxious! I turned to see him walking in my room with a full manila folder in his hands. Without a word, he tossed the folder on my desk and stood with his hands on his hips.
“Is this the kind of bastard you want to hook up with?” I slid my headphones off my head and left them dangling around my neck.
“What?” Not prepared for a fight this morning, I didn’t know how to react to the accusation.
Dad looked furious, his gray eyes like cold steel. “Come on, Mollie, enough of the lies. I know for a fact you've been seeing this kid at the hospital and I also know he’s the one who almost killed you and Natalie.”
“Hold on a minute! I haven’t been seeing anyone—he’s just an acquaintance. I haven’t been lying to you.” Immediately, I went into defensive mode. He’d caught me off-guard by coming into my room and that wasn’t his standard move. He usually gave me the silent treatment or walked away.
“Damn it, Mol! You’re doing it right now! Same thing happened with your job at the Village Clinic. I told you to stay away from there but you went anyway. I asked you if you knew who this person was, and you said no. You’ve been lying to me about all of this. It has to stop now! Just take a look at this guy’s record.” Angrily, he flipped the folder open and showed me mug shot after mug shot of Jack.
“How did you get this? Isn’t stealing his records illegal? You’re not supposed to have them.” I flipped through the pictures, trying to stack them up and put them back in the folder.
“You don’t worry about his records! Look at this hoodlum! Shoplifting at twelve, truancy at thirteen—grand theft auto at sixteen—it goes on and on! This kid is trouble—did you know his mother is a drunk?” Dad seemed pretty exasperated. I’d wished he’d finish, but he kept on going. “I remember Nellie Fitzgerald from school. She was always a screw up. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, you know. I see it in court day after day. This kid, this Jackson Fitzgerald is as big a loser as his drunken whore mother!” Dad pounded his fist on my desk and stared me in the eye. I didn’t know if he’d intended to hit me, but instead of feeling afraid, my blood boiled! Quick as lightning, I got up from the chair and slung off the headphones.
“You have no right to pass judgment on Jack or his mother—or me for that matter! I had no idea who he was that night. It wasn’t until afterward I recognized him. Do you realize how old I am? Do you know I’m about to graduate college? You can’t tell me where to go, who to see, or where to work! I’m a grown woman, Dad! I’m not a scared kid anymore!”
“I have every right to talk to you about these things—I’m your father whether you like it or not! We have a reputation in this community, one I have worked hard to maintain for longer than you’ve been alive. I suggest you think about that. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be in school. I pay the bills, and I pay for your education. And unless you stop seeing this kid, and straighten up, you won’t be getting anymore handouts from me!” His voice was deep and threatening.
The whole thing was so ridiculous, I laughed in his face. He was convinced I’d deceived him and that I was somehow damaging his pristine reputation by associating with Jack. “Are you kidding me with this? Is this the 19th century? You plan to cut me off? From what? It’s my mother’s money—you’re just the trustee and not for much longer! Then I won’t need your approval to do whatever the hell I want! So go ahead, cut me off. I’ll be sure and return the favor when the time comes!” I grabbed the folder off my desk and shoved it at him. I was so pissed—I could’ve smacked him with it.
“Do you really want to go to war with me over this?” he said in a quiet, controlled voice. “Do you think I need your mother’s money? Let me tell you something Mollie DuBois, if you don’t leave this kid alone, I’ll make sure that the detective in charge of his case knows exactly where to find him. Maybe his rap sheet will finally mean something and put him where he belongs! He’s just like his mother, nothing but trouble!”
“You do anything to Jack and you won’t see me again! I mean it — leave h
im alone! This is about me and you. It’s got to stop Dad. You have to stop.”
I was furious. I grabbed my purse, phone and keys and pushed past my father. He stood with his mouth wide open, shocked at my response. The old me would have said, “Yes, Dad,” or something like, “I hear you Dad.” Not anymore — I was over it! I couldn’t reason with him; everything had to be his way. There was no compromising with Charles DuBois. The bottom line was my father wanted to control me and now that he saw that I was pushing back, it scared him. Well, it was time I stood up to him — past time! It was two hours before my shift started, but I couldn’t stay here. Thank God, Dad didn’t try to follow me when I walked out of the house and slammed the door. It was a huge relief.
Up until today, I'd never felt physically threatened by my father. Could he actually hurt me? I didn’t want to believe it, but then again I was discovering how controlling and mean he could be.
What would happen if he did decide to close my bank account? Could he really do that? I wasn’t sure, but I wasn't taking anything for granted. I made a mental note to call Mr. Jernigan, a family friend and lawyer. If nothing else, I could get some advice on what I should do next. Dad was probably bluffing, but I wanted to be sure that he couldn’t do what he threatened. As far as Jack went, there was probably nothing I could do about that except keep my visits to him as quiet as I could. That hadn’t worked so far but I didn’t want to give up checking on him. He needed me, whether he knew it or not.
When I thought about the file that Dad had thrown at me, I was amazed to see that Jack had overcome so much. It takes a special kind of moxie to grow up in a household with an alcoholic parent. Sure, his current racing career wasn't completely on the up and up, but according to some, he was one of the best racers in the state if not the region. I put the car in park, thankful that the hospital’s parking garage wasn’t completely full. I decided to visit Jack’s room before I signed in as I had more than enough time to kill.
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