by P.D. Workman
Chapter Three
EXHAUSTED, GABRIEL RUBBED HIS legs, trying to soothe the muscle pain. But he was still so weak and sick that his arms tired quickly. He could only rub his legs for a few seconds before he was overwhelmed by fatigue. He rested for a minute and tried again, almost crying with the pain and exhaustion.
When he rang for a nurse, she just shook her head at the suggestion that he needed a painkiller.
“We’ve withdrawn all unnecessary medication,” she said crisply. “Growing pains and muscle cramps do not qualify as needing painkillers. You’re just going to have to put up with it.”
“It hurts,” Gabriel tried to keep a sob out of his voice. “You don’t know how much. Please…”
“I understand that you’ve been given whatever you think you need in the past. That’s just what has landed you here. I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to give you anything. It might help to rub them or walk around a little bit. I don’t want you wandering, but if you want to walk around the room to loosen up your muscles, that’s just fine.”
“I’m too tired.”
“Then I can’t help you.”
“Can you rub them?” Gabriel begged. He reached down to massage his painful muscles again, but gave up at the stretch and burn in his arms and shoulders. He flopped back down on the bed, frustrated and furious, tears escaping the corners of his eyes.
“No. I have other things to do. Now good night, Mr. Tate. You should be trying to go back to sleep.”
She marched back out of the room. Gabriel stared at the black window. Everyone else must be asleep, so why couldn’t the nurse rub his legs for a few minutes? What was she so busy with? What trumped patient care?
He had an urge to get up and follow her. Maybe she was in the middle of a card game with the other nurses. Or she was in an exciting part of her latest paperback. He wanted to catch her, call her out for thinking that her own comfort was more important than helping him. But that would mean getting out of bed, and he didn’t think that his legs would support him. He had no idea what they had done with his braces.
There was a soft whisper outside his door and Gabriel looked up. With just a rustle of clothing, her bare feet making no sound on the tiled floor, Renata peeked in.
“Hey,” she whispered. “I saw Nurse Ratched in here. Are you okay?”
Gabriel wiped at the corners of his eyes. “What are you doing up?”
“I don’t sleep. Not much. And they’ve messed with my cocktail, so I haven’t slept in three days.” She sat on the edge of the bed instead of pulling over the visitor chair. Gabriel tried to pull his legs away from her. They were so tender that even just Renata’s weight sinking into the mattress made them hurt more. “So? Are you okay?”
“My legs hurt.”
She was staring at him. Gabriel couldn’t see her very well in the dark, and he wondered whether she could see him at all. Dark skin in a dark room, and she had just come in from the brighter hallway.
“What can I do?” she asked.
“They won’t give me anything.”
“No.” She put her hand over his left shin. He could feel the warmth of her hand through the sheets. “What if I rub them? Would that be better or worse?”
“Better.”
Without further discussion, she started to rub his legs. Her touch was tentative at first. She barely touched him and moved very slowly. She gradually increased the pressure, focused on Gabriel for his reaction.
“Good? Is that too hard?”
“No. Good.”
Gabriel closed his eyes and tried to relax, the pain finally lessening. Renata was quiet for once, just massaging his aching muscles. Gabriel was almost asleep when she stopped.
“Mmm. Keep going,” he encouraged.
“Can’t,” Renata whispered.
He realized that she was breathing heavily. Opening his eyes, he saw her leaning over, supporting herself on her elbows, almost prone.
“Renata?”
Her breathing took on a labored whine, sort of a cross between a wheeze and a sob. Gabriel was alarmed.
“Renata? Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Her words were forced. “Just tired.”
She had mito too. She was in better shape than Gabriel was, but he’d been exhausted after mere seconds of rubbing his muscles. She’d been working on them hard for ten minutes. She hadn’t slept in days. She was in no shape to be providing massages.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Gabriel tried to reach her hand. “I didn’t mean to kill you!”
She giggled. Gabriel managed to reach her shoulder. She was drenched in sweat. Gabriel held his hand over her shoulder for a minute. “I’m sorry…” He let go and pressed the call button for the nurse.
It was the same one as had come before. Nurse Ratched, Renata had called her, but Gabriel didn’t think that was really her name. It was some kind of nickname; only he didn’t get the joke.
“What’s going on here?” the nurse demanded, peering at them through the dimness of the room. “Renata? What are you doing in here?”
“She was helping me,” Gabriel tried to explain. “But she tired herself out.”
“Get up,” Ratched told Renata, tugging on her arm. But Renata continued to slump over, wheezing. “Stupid girl,” Ratched complained. She moved around the bed to retrieve a wheelchair. She brought it to the side of the bed and set the brakes. “Come here. Into the chair,” she instructed. She pulled on Renata until the girl slid off of the bed and into the seat of the wheelchair. “Back you go. Maybe this will teach you to quit wandering around at night.”
“Doubt it,” Renata offered between rasping breaths.
Ratched snorted.
“You should give her something to sleep,” Gabriel suggested. “She said she hasn’t slept in three days!”
“You can’t believe anything that comes out of this girl’s mouth,” the nurse advised. She bent over to release the brakes. “She’s already had an evening sedative. She shouldn’t have any trouble sleeping.” Ratched gave the wheelchair a little shake for emphasis as if Renata were a recalcitrant child. “If she’d just respond to her meds like a normal person.”
“Nu-uh,” Renata said, her voice mischievous in spite of her labored breathing.
Gabriel couldn’t help smiling as Renata was wheeled out of the room.
Gabriel had repeatedly rung for a nurse to help him to the restroom, without any sign that they were listening to him. He knew that he couldn’t wait much longer, and slid out of bed onto wobbly legs. With the IV pole for support, maybe he could make the few steps to the bathroom on his own. The nurse who had removed Renata the night before hadn’t returned the wheelchair to his room.
Gabriel’s legs shook with fatigue as if he’d been running or hiking all day. Standing up reduced the muscle cramps a little, but also increased the urgency to get to the toilet. His bowels shifted and cramped, pains shooting up his side and back.
Three steps were all he could manage before one knee buckled, and the other wouldn’t be far behind. Gabriel tried to lower himself to his knees with care, but partway there, it was like his leg had been kicked out from under him, and he was face-first on the floor, barely managing to catch himself before his teeth hit the tile.
There was no getting back up. Gabriel continued to combat-crawl along the floor, but his arms were exhausted, and his IV was getting tangled up, pulling on the needle in his vein. One of the nurses finally made an appearance as he sobbed, in reach of the bathroom door, but unable to get up to open it.
“What are you doing?” she screeched, diving at him.
Gabriel took a few breaths, trying to steady himself before speaking. “Gotta use the john. Stomach hurts.”
She was a short, stocky woman with a brightly-colored flower smock. Some of the nurses would have insisted that they couldn’t help Gabriel up, but she swooped in, hauling on his free arm to put it over her shoulder, grabbing him around the waist, and pulling him to his feet.
&n
bsp; “Ring for help and then wait,” she told him, maneuvering him into the bathroom.
“Couldn’t wait,” Gabriel insisted, barely managing to hold his bodily functions in check until she had him on the toilet. He held his arm across his stomach, sucking in his breath, as his bowels loosened and emptied in a loud, foul-smelling torrent.
He was embarrassed, but at the same time glad that he’d made it. He’d rather she was standing there wrinkling her nose than complaining about having to clean him up after he’d fouled himself and the bed.
“You’ve pulled out your IV,” she said, pulling on the needle that just barely hung onto his arm. She produced a piece of gauze and pressed it over his arm while she removed the needle the rest of the way. “Hold that.”
Gabriel held the gauze in place, rocking back and forth with the waves of intestinal cramps.
“What’s wrong with your stomach?” the flowered woman asked, scowling down at him.
“The food. I have allergies.”
She sighed in exasperation. “Why didn’t you tell anyone that?”
“I did. They said just eat it and don’t get sick.”
She rolled her eyes heavenward. “There’s got to be a better way for De Klerk to sort out the malingerers.”
Gabriel repeated the word. “Malingerers?”
The nurse busied herself with tying off the IV.
“What does that mean, malingerers?”
“Look it up. Are you done?”
Gabriel shook his head.
She pursed her lips. “Are you going to be okay if I leave you alone for a couple of minutes?”
“Yeah. For a bit.”
“There’s a pull-cord,” she gestured to it. “Call if you need help. I’ll be back in just a few minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”
Gabriel grimaced. “I won’t.”
