***
After mom and dad left I pulled my clothes back out of the drawer and set them on top of the nightstand next to the bed. I knew I was going to be leaving soon and wanted to pass the time somehow. Making sure all of my things were out and ready to go was the only thing I could think of besides watching TV or going for another walk. I didn’t feel like watching anything and after my encounter on the previous walk I was stone set against another unless someone was with me and even then the idea wasn’t especially tempting.
I began to look around the room as if some activity would jump out and entertain me but nothing did. I was beginning to consider the option of a nap when something in the room made a noise. Paranoia from what happened in the hall raised my internal alarm system. My head jerked in the direction of the sound. My apprehension was quickly replaced with annoyance, however, when I discovered the source.
James Price stirred in the hospital bed next to mine. His eyes fluttered open and he inhaled sharply when he realized his surroundings were unfamiliar. He began to cough and brought one hand up to cover his eyes as the hangover began its slow torturous work. He turned over on his side closest to me with his eyes tightly closed. Then he wrapped his right arm around his abdomen and began to cough more violently.
I flinched at the prospect of witnessing the man vomit. He carried on like this for about ten seconds then he dropped onto his back again and moaned. Thankfully nothing came up.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I said acidly. Some piece of me, a larger one than I would like to admit, took pleasure in his pain. He didn’t deserve to be alive, not even alive enough to grudgingly wake up and feel a combination of hangover and aftermath of the disaster of a car wreck which sent his once pristine mustang flipping through the air like an Olympic ice skating champion. The least he could do was wallow in it a good long while.
Price coughed a little more and opened his eyes to slits to look at me, only for as long as he could stand it I presume. He didn’t recognize me, not at first. The pounding in his head would make sure of that as would the fuzzy senselessness that no doubt swirled his head around like a wooden spoon stirring a fresh pitcher of Kool-Aid. He emitted a noise which sounded like it was half guttural grunt and half donkey whine. That was his first attempt to communicate and the second was only a little better.
“Where am I?” This came out barely above a grainy whisper.
“You’re in a hospital. Lucky you’re not in complete traction or better, a morgue, after the stunt you pulled.” I didn’t tell him I thought he should be in the last one, in fact that I might be glad to help him find his way there. It would have done no good to say so. He was too out of it to let it fully sink in.
“How…” another coughing fit took him out of the conversation. “How did I get here?” I was under no illusions that much of James Price’s adventures with Jim Beam of the forgone night took place while already heavily under the influence and therefore would remain a question mark to him for a long time if not the rest of his miserable life.
“Well, that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? I can tell you the part I remember. That would be the part where you were smashed out of your mind driving around and caused a major car accident by colliding almost head to head with my sad old Honda. A few others joined us and we all ended up here.” I was barely able to stop myself from adding, those of us that lived, anyway. I would allow someone else the privilege of dropping that particular bomb on Jimmy.
He let out a pathetic sigh and said a few things to himself I wouldn’t repeat to a roomful of sailors. The hell of it was that not one ounce of remorse was in his voice. He sounded angry, which in turn made me angry. Yes sir this James Price was one class act. I promised myself I was going to get out of that hospital as fast as I possibly could if for no other reason that to get away from that dirt clod.
“Believe it, Captain Morgan,” I interjected. “I think you better get used to rooms less comfortable than this one and roommates a little more likely to ask you to dance with them than I am. Say hello to Bubba for me.” That caught his attention.
He opened one eye and peered at me questioningly. “What are you talking about?”
“You caused a multi car accident while drunk driving and hurt a lot of people. Do the math.” I was becoming less and less in the mood to endure the man. If he said it wasn’t his fault I don’t think I would been able to prevent myself from beating him back into unconsciousness with one of my crutches. I didn’t think he could have said anything worse. As it turns out I was incorrect in that assumption.
“We’ll see about that. I can probably afford a better lawyer than all of you put together.” I couldn’t believe the nerve, the sheer gall that this man spilled from his lips.
I thought about my parents then and a smile lit up my face. My father was a self-made millionaire and my mother was the heiress of another. Any move this jackass could make I knew that I was related to people who would radiantly match it and take it a step further. Just because I didn’t normally avail myself of my family’s wealth didn’t mean I was totally opposed to it. Then I said cheerfully, “Oh I wouldn’t count on that, chum. Besides, I know some things you don’t know.”
He looked at me again, this time with an appraising eye. He dismissed me by shaking his head. He didn’t believe me and that was perfectly acceptable by me. Nobody could say I didn’t warn him. Then he did a double take. He finally knew that he recognized me. But I could also tell he couldn’t exactly place my face or how he knew who I was.
“Yeah,” I said, “We’ve met before.”
“How do I know you,” he asked suspiciously.
“You almost ran me over in the street the other day right after you…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I couldn’t remember the other thing he’d almost done. It was another one of those blank spots I had experienced that day. But it didn’t matter. I saw it all come rushing back to him and the fear that it sparked deep inside him. That was more than enough to make my day.
“That’s right,” I said, turning my head away and looking out the window. “You can start sweating now.” From that point on he clammed up and I was thankful. I was able to lay back and enjoy the silent victory.
A Ghost of Fire Page 15
