A Special Obsession

by A. M. Hargrove

  “You’re the one who brought him in?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. We need to get some information from you. Come this way.” I follow the receptionist to another cubicle where she asks questions about Weston’s insurance.

  “I don’t have any idea about that. All I want to know is will he be okay?”

  She huffs and mutters something unintelligible. Then she ushers me into the waiting area again. When she’s gone, I lean over to Jeb and say, “She wouldn’t tell me a thing. All they wanted was his insurance information.”

  “They only want their money. Maybe you should’ve mentioned he has a black AMEX. He doesn’t need insurance. He could pay in cash.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Squinting at him, I ask, “Why have you dug into him so much?”

  “When he showed up at Mimi’s today, I had to wonder why. What’s his motive? I have to admit, it concerned me more than just a little.”

  “And?”

  “Couldn’t find a single negative thing. The guy is so pristine, he squeaks. Plus, he’s rich. I’m talking the filthy kind. Special, he’s a good one. I have a good feeling about him.”

  This is something I really don’t give a shit about right now. Jumping up, I make my way to the reception desk and ask the woman, “How long before I can see Mr. Wyndham?”

  “Are you family?” she asks.

  “I brought him in.”

  She looks at me over her half-glasses. “Yes, but are you family?”

  “Not his blood relation, no.”

  “Then, please, miss, have a seat.”

  Frowning, I say, “So, it was okay when you thought I may have his insurance information, but now that you know I can’t provide it, I’m a nobody to you. Is that correct?”

  “We’ll call you when we have information on his condition.”

  That’s it. He may be dying in there, and that’s all the compassion I get? Nope, I’m not leaving. Leaning over the desk, I look at her and say, “You may be having a terrible night, and for that I’m sorry. But I’m really worried about my friend. He may be dying for all I know, and I’d like to find out what’s going on with him.” I shut up and stare down at her.

  My pregnant pause has the effect I’d hoped for. She puffs out a heavy sigh, reminding me of the exhaust of a tired old bus, and says, “Very well. Let me see what I can do.”

  Not daring to sit, for I fear if I do she’ll return and forget about me, I wait and wait and wait for what seems like an eternity. When she returns, she pats my hand and tells me they’ve taken blood tests to determine why he’s running a fever.

  “It’s the wound on his butt.”

  “Yes, dear, but they want to be more specific than that. They’ve started him on antibiotics. Someone will be out here shortly to call you back.”

  “Will he be okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fairly certain he will.”

  “Thank you.” Big ugly tears rip me from stem to stern, making me sound like a blubbering goon. Jeb appears and the lady hands me a box of tissues as I collapse into his arms. He supports me as I lose my shit over this, which is completely unlike me. When the river has run dry, I hiccup the words, “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. You’ve been worried.”

  My face is still smashed against his chest when I say, “I just didn’t want to be the one responsible for his death.”

  Jeb drags me to the closest seat and shoves me into it. He crouches down in front of me and in a stern voice says, “Listen up. That’s the last time I want to hear you whining about this. It was an accident. You got it? And no one, I mean no one, can hear you say shit like that. Besides, he’s not going to die.”

  “But—”

  He doesn’t let me finish. “I said stop, and I mean it. We’ve been over this. Weston doesn’t blame you. If he did, he would’ve insisted on calling the cops. But he didn’t. He entered your house illegally. You were scared. For the last time, drop it. He’s getting the proper care he needs and will be fine.”

  “Okay. Okay. I got it.”

  He taps the side of my nose. “Now wipe that snot bubble off. It’s pretty gross.”

  I grab the tissues and take care of business. “Thanks for making me feel good about myself.” I poke him in the shoulder.

  “Well, somebody has to,” he says, winking. “I don’t want you to give yourself a bad name.”

  Not much later, a nurse comes out and asks for the family of Mr. Wyndham. I run over to her.

  “I brought him in, but I’m a friend, not family.”

  “Come with me.”

  Stopping the nurse with my hand, I ask her if it’s okay if Jeb accompanies me. She says it’s fine. So I go and grab him.

  “Are you sure?” He wants to know.

  “Yes!”

  We follow the nurse through the Emergency Department. It’s much larger than I thought. At first there are beds separated by curtains, but she leads us to another area where each bed is in an individual room, which is where Weston is. She shows us in and then leaves. There are two chairs so we both sit. He’s sleeping, but is attached to all kinds of monitors. Shortly after, a doctor enters and introduces herself.

  “Hi, I’m Dr. Santiago, an Infectious Disease Specialist. I understand you brought Mr. Wyndham in?”

  “Yes. He’s a friend of mine. Has he been awake at all?”

  “He’s in and out. His fever was very high, but it’s dropping now. We started him on antibiotics for his infection, and he’s receiving fluids through his IV. He should be fine in a few days. What can you tell us about his wound? He said he was on a construction site earlier today and got punctured by a metal rod.”

  “Uh, yeah, that’s what he said. It must’ve been more serious than he thought,” I say.

  “It should’ve been treated when it happened,” Dr. Santiago replies.

  “I didn’t know infection could set in so fast.”

  “A deep puncture wound is always a high risk. And this one closed. Had it stayed opened and drained properly, it might not have. He’s very lucky you brought him in so quickly. There was actually a metal fragment still in him. One of the physicians removed it. Do you know anything else about the incident?”

  “No. That’s all he said.” I glance at Jeb and he nods slightly. I can’t believe he was lucid enough to make something like that up. “Do you know how long he’ll be asleep?”

  “Probably for a while. Fevers will do that. You might want to run to the cafeteria,” she glances at her watch, “in about fifteen minutes when they open and grab some breakfast.”

  “Thanks. How long do you think he’ll be in the hospital?”

  “Two, maybe three days. I want to wait until we get some cultures back and see how he responds. We want to know exactly what we’re dealing with as far as the infection is concerned.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  As soon as she’s gone, Jeb says, “He did us a solid, Spesh.”

  “Yeah. I can’t believe Weston was levelheaded enough to tell her that. But how did they not know it was a bullet wound?”

  “I don’t know. That gun of Mimi’s is so old maybe that bullet broke apart when it was fired. I’ve seen that happen before when old ammo is used. You told me yourself Mimi’s had that stuff forever. I should’ve test fired that thing long ago.” Jeb nods as he speaks.

  As I sit and stare at Weston, I notice again the perfection of his features. Large almond-shaped eyes are hooded and outlined with feathery lashes that fan across high-sculpted cheekbones. Below them lies a face covered in dense scruff. But his mouth is what I’m most drawn to. Full wide lips that bring back memories of his smile warm me to the marrow of my bones.

  “What are you grinning about over there?” Jeb’s question breaks through my train of thought.

  “I’m not grinning.” But my feeble attempts to deny the truth don’t slide past Jeb.

  “Seriously? You can’t fool an old man, S
pesh. You like him, don’t you?”

  “What? No!” He’s hit on something I don’t really care to admit, neither to him nor to myself.

  “Come on. This is me, Jeb, you’re talking to. You don’t have to keep secrets from me.”

  “I’m just relieved, if you want the truth.” Jeb knows just about everything there is to know about me.

  “If you want the truth from me, you need a nice young man in your life.”

  My head jerks in his direction. “Pump the brakes, Jeb. I don’t need a man right now.”

  “I disagree.”

  “That’s your prerogative.”

  He leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and clasps his hands together. “Listen to me. You’re young, too young to spend your life alone. This guy seems like a good man. You should give him a chance.”

  “A chance at what? And when? I work six days a week, and on Sundays I have Cody and Mimi. At some point I’d like Cody to come and live with me. Maybe hire a nanny or something. I know he’s getting to be too much for Mimi. So, when do you expect me to fit him,” I motion my head toward Weston, “into all this?” Besides, I have walls ten feet thick and no one is going to break them down, but I don’t mention that.

  “That’s the point. You need to hire someone for the bar so you can have more time off. You’re working your life away. The place is doing well, and you know it. You’re worried about socking your money away when you need to be living life.”

  I stand up and pace. Jeb and I have had this discussion before. He knows where I stand. “The socking away, as you put it, is for Cody’s education. I need to do it now because I have no idea if the bar will continue to perform the way it does.”

  “Spesh, it will. It’s in a prime location, and you’ll adjust accordingly. You’ll change with the times as you see fit. You have a great head on your shoulders for this kind of thing.”

  Frowning, I ask, “Why are you all of a sudden interested in my love life?”

  “You know I care about you. I want you to be happy and that includes a life with someone.”

  “Jesus, Jeb, I barely know the guy. You’re talking like you want me to marry him.”

  A deep chuckle rumbles out of him. “You can’t beat the kind of catch he is. I mean, look at him, Spesh. Don’t deny it. I saw you checking him out. He’s a fine looking young man. And he’s got manners to go along with it. Mimi was falling all over him. Made me a little jealous even. But the money. My God, you’d never have to worry about a thing again.”

  “I don’t give a shit about the money, and you know it.”

  “That’s not what I meant. It’s icing on the cake.”

  “This is ludicrous. You have me married off to the man and I’ve only just met him. By the way, have you considered whether or not he likes me?”

  “Come on, Spesh. Haven’t you seen the way the guy looks at you?”

  “Actually, I haven’t.” It’s true. I’ve been too busy trying to sneak looks at him. “Anyway, this won’t work between us. We come from two totally different worlds.”

  Jeb shrugs. “So what? Like that has never happened before.”

  “Okay, enough already. I’m going to grab some coffee. Then I’ll check on him once more before I head home. I have to meet that girl this morning.”

  “You mean Delores?”

  “Yeah.”

  He follows me to the cafeteria and tries to tell me I’ll love her so the interview is a waste of my time. He’s hardly ever wrong in these situations, but I want to make sure I’m doing the right thing.

  “What if she doesn’t like me?”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, right. And the sun never sets in Atlanta.”

  12

  Weston

  The beeping that woke me grates on my last nerve until my eyes land on the source. Ah, fuck. I’m in the hospital. I vaguely remember Special driving me here and speaking with the doctor. My head feels like it’s the size of a gigantic pumpkin getting ready to split wide open. And my ass—shit, it burns and throbs, like someone jabbed a red-hot poker deep into my butt cheek. Then it hits me. I need to get out of here so I can show up at work. But when I try to move, it’s glaringly apparent that I am like a pup chained to a fence, except I have more than one leash—there’s an IV in my arm and all kinds of wires attached to me. What the hell is going on? Lifting the sheet, I stifle a scream when I see the tube running out of my dick. What the fuck! Jesus, that shit scares me more than anything. What the hell happened to my dick? Scrambling, I find the nurse’s call button and start punching the shit out of it.

  “Can I help you?” A voice comes through the little call box.

  “Yeah, you sure can!” The beeping of the machines is going crazy.

  “What’s the problem, sir? Is everything okay?”

  What am I supposed to say? My dick’s falling off? “Um, can someone just come in here, please?”

  “Right away, sir.”

  Fuck, my dick may not have a minute! “Okay, hurry.”

  The door swings open and I’m about to jump out of my skin, when I look over and see it’s Special and Jeb. Shit.

  “Hey, look who’s awake,” Special says, smiling. Normally, I would be happy to see her and my dick even more so, but right now I’m too worried about it turning blue or something equally as heinous, so I only wiggle my fingers. “Are you feeling better?” she asks cheerily.

  “Um, not really.” My voice sounds off—high and shaky. Is that what a guy’s voice whose dick is about to fall off sounds like? Jesus, where is that nurse? I want to check out my dick to see if it’s turned an unsightly shade, but I can’t with Special in the room.

  “Are you okay? You seem anxious.” She gives me a curious look.

  Fuck yeah, I’m anxious, I want to say, but I clamp my lips together instead and only shake my head.

  “Oh my gosh, do you need pain medication? I can get a nurse for you,” Special says, running to my side.

  Right then, the nurse bustles into the room and asks, “Mr. Wyndham, what can I do for you?” She immediately checks the monitors and sees my blood pressure is up.

  My eyes turn into two golf balls and I stammer, “Um, well, I, uh.”

  “Weston, are you in pain?” Special asks.

  “Yes, but.” I look at Jeb and flick my head, indicating for him to get Special the fuck out of here. Thank God he catches on.

  “Er, Special, I think they need a bit of privacy,” Jeb says as I nod frantically.

  “Oh, sure.” Jeb takes her arm and leads her out of the room as she looks at me over her shoulder.

  The nurse stands there and asks, “What can I do for you?”

  Throwing the sheet back, I blurt, “What’s wrong with my dick?” Panic edges my voice.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “My dick. What is this…?” I point to the clear tube impaling the poor, lifeless fellow.

  She takes a second before answering, as though she’s choosing her words carefully. Or maybe she’s trying not to laugh. I don’t know and don’t care. “Mr. Wyndham, that is a catheter. It removes urine from your bladder. You have an infection, and the doctor was uncertain where the infection stemmed from or if it affected your kidneys. It is common practice to insert a catheter into a patient that’s delirious. I can assure you your penis is fine and will not fall off.”

  “Oh.” I sag into the mattress. I feel four years old. “Okay then,” I say in a low voice.

  “Are you in need of any pain medication?” she asks.

  “That would be nice. Wait, what if I have to pee? How am I supposed to go?”

  “It will drain out of your catheter into the bag it’s attached to. You are fine, Mr. Wyndham.”

  “Oh, all right. And you’re certain, because I don’t want anything to happen to my—”

  “Yes, I know and I am certain you will not experience any damage to your penis. We catheterize patients every day.”

  Swallowing the huge knot in my throat, I finally feel relief
sweep over me. “Thank God. For a minute there, I thought … well, never mind.” I cover my wretched looking dick with the sheet, patting the poor thing, feeling sorry for the shriveled up little guy. How humiliating is this?

  “Is there anything else besides the pain medication?” she asks.

  “No. Well, yes. Yes, there is. Am I the only one who’s ever thought his dick was falling off?”

  She pats my hand in a kindly gesture and says, “Mr. Wyndham, I’ll be right back with your medication.” I’m pretty sure she just gave me my answer.

  She leaves and Special and Jeb return. Special asks, “Everything okay?”

  “Yes, good. All’s good.” I release a puff of air and add, “Thank you for taking care of me and getting me here.” I smile, but my discomfort is hindering my good spirits. “The nurse is coming back with something for pain.”

  “That’s good. You look like you could use some. Weston, I think we’ll leave and let you get some rest.” She hands me my cell phone, along with the keys to my truck. “I’ll text you the location of where your truck is parked so you’ll have it on your phone.”

  “Thank you. I mean it, Special.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll call you. And I’ll come back to visit as soon as I can.” With a wave, she’s gone.

  Jeb hangs back. “Get everything worked out there?” he asks.

  “Yeah. Good as new. Well, almost. Maybe. Oh, hell, I don’t really know.”

  He nods slowly. “Listen, I just wanted you to know that you gave her a real scare. I’ve only seen her that way one time before, and that’s when she was frantic about Cody. She’s good people. Don’t mess with her. You know what I’m saying?”

  “Yeah, I get you. And just so you know, you don’t have to worry.”

  His eyes gouge into mine and I get another slow nod before he’s out the door. The nurse returns and puts something into my IV, which makes me loopy, but also helps with the pain. Then it hits me. I have to make the dreaded call to my dad. What the hell am I going to tell him? Oh, hey, I can’t come in today because I got shot in the ass and I’m in the hospital with a plastic tube attached to my dick. Um, no thanks.