Post 11

“Sarah said he got the crap kicked out of him. I’m guessing he was on duty at the time,” Peter explained. He was worried, but he had unconsciously balled his hand into a fist as he thought about what may have happened. His other hand was squeezing Laura’s hand tightly. A moment later, he realized the outward signs of his vague anger and forced himself to take a breath and relax. Laura said something, but Peter didn’t hear what. He didn’t ask, either.

Swedish Medical Center wasn’t a far drive for them. They arrived within about half an hour from the time of Sarah’s call. The hospital was under construction, but the temporary parking lot for the emergency room was pretty big. Laura found a close spot and they walked inside. Peter asked the receptionist where his brother might be. He checked the computer and directed him to the ICU. Being a Monday afternoon, there were a lot of people filling the halls of the hospital. Peter was walking quickly through the halls, trying to get to the ICU in as little time as possible. Laura walked a step behind him, her hand still in his, but his haste made conversation inconvenient. She finally caught up to him while they waited for the elevator, and she put her arm around him and held him close to try to help him relax.

The elevator dinged and Peter stepped towards the doors as they opened. He had to step out of the way to allow an older couple to walk out. As soon as they were past, he stepped on the elevator and pushed the button for the ICU floor. As the doors closed, he gave Laura’s hand a gentle squeeze. She looked up at him and their eyes met, which made him smile. He sighed and she hugged him while the elevator stopped on their floor.

They stepped out of the elevator and found the ICU desk where Peter asked about his brother again. The nurse looked up and told him that someone was already in with him, and that because of the limit on the number of visitors at a time, he and his wife would have to wait in the lounge. Peter and Laura both stifled a chuckle as the nurse pointed down the hallway behind them towards the lounge where they could wait.

They followed the nurse’s directions and found the lounge. There were several chairs, tables with magazines and a couple TVs suspended from the ceiling. The remote control for the TVs were nowhere in sight, but Peter could reach the controls if he wanted to. They sat in the center of the room, Laura next to a table of magazines and Peter next to her. He quickly determined that he would rather not have to sleep in this room. The chairs were far too uncomfortable for any extended stay. Aloud, he said, “I hope Dan isn’t in here very long.”

Laura picked up a People magazine and started flipping through it. Peter slouched in his seat, extended his legs in front of him, his arms out on both sides, and rested his head against the back of the chair. He closed his eyes for a minute and for that time, the room was quiet. The bustle and the sounds of the hospital seemed somehow distant. Even though he got a good night’s sleep the night before, he felt like he could take a nap just then.

An older woman entered the lounge and took a seat against the wall. When Peter heard her enter, he opened his eyes and sat up again. Laura was still flipping through the magazine, so Peter turned his eye on the television hanging from the ceiling a little to his left. It was a local newscaster talking about some kind of special alert. Peter looked closer at the crawl at the bottom of the screen where it talked about a search for someone who robbed a liquor store in a neighborhood near Federal and Alameda. It must have happened recently. This type of thing happened occasionally around here, so Peter wasn’t too interested. That is until they switched away from the talking head to a still photo captured from the surveillance camera in the liquor store. It was a grainy, black-and-white image of a man holding a gun in one hand, a backpack in the other. He was wearing a hat, but Peter still shot out of his seat and did a double-take at the screen. There on the television was a picture of Aura Man. Peter was sure it was him. His mouth opened and he pointed to the TV. Not wanting to make more of a scene than he already had, though, he sat back down next to Laura who was staring at him trying to figure out what he was doing.

He leaned close to Laura and spoke very quietly. “I know that guy. He’s the one I bumped into at the airport.”

“Are you sure?” asked Laura. She looked at the TV, but the image of Aura Man had been replaced with the talking head for a moment before the station went to a commercial. “Oh, I missed it.”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m totally sure. What should I do? I need to do something, don’t I?”

“You should probably call the police, Peter.”

“You’re right. But maybe I should ask Dan first. He would know how to handle this. He’s a cop.”

A motion at the door caught Peter’s eye, and he looked up to see his mother walking into the room. She was still pretty upset, so Peter decided right away not to mention what he had seen on the TV. He stood up to meet her. Laura watched him stand up, and a moment later noticed Peter’s mother, so she got up behind Peter.

“How’s he doing, mom?”

“He’s bruised up pretty badly, and his arm is in a cast, but he’s going to be fine. The doctors were worried about some possible internal bleeding, so they’re going to keep him up here for observation.” Peter nodded. “You can go in and see him if you’d like.” She looked at Laura. “You could go, too, Laura, if you want to, or you could stay here and keep me company. I was just going to grab a late lunch in the cafeteria.”

Laura picked up on the hint and decided to keep Peter’s mom company while Peter visited with Dan. They walked out to the nurse’s station together and Heather showed Peter where Dan’s room was before taking Laura with her to the elevator.

Peter walked into Dan’s room. He was not at all prepared for just how badly Dan had been beaten. His face was swollen, and cut in several places. He had an oxygen tube running under his nose. His neck had a bright purple mark on one side. His left arm was in a cast, and what Peter could see of his right arm was bruised. He paused as he took it all in.

“Jesus, Dan, did you get run over by a truck or something?” Peter said.

“No,” Dan said in a weak, raspy voice while he tried to smile. Peter walked over to the empty chair next to the bed and sat down. Dan arranged the pillow under his broken arm and sat up a little straighter in bed to talk with Peter. “Aren’t you supposed to be out graduating or something?”

“Yeah, we had practice this morning. It went pretty well. But does this mean you’re going to miss the ceremony?”

“I dunno, Pete,” Dan said quietly. “I don’t think they allow hospital beds in the stands at the school.”

“Are you going to be in here a while?”

“They said they want to keep me overnight, but they wouldn’t promise I could go home tomorrow, so I just don’t trust ‘em. My nurse is pretty cute, though.”

“Boy, you sure go out of your way to meet women. Never heard of dating sites?” Peter laughed. Dan suppressed his laugh, though he did still chuckle weakly.

“Yeah, but I’d rather meet someone in person first, y’know?” Dan said.

“Oh! Speaking of which...” Peter looked around for the TV but couldn’t find one. “Doesn’t this room come with a TV?”

“Nope. They want me to bore myself to better health.”

“How’s that working for you?” asked Peter. Dan glared at him. “Well, whatever. I have a police question to ask you. I saw this breaking news story about a guy who robbed a liquor store north of here and I swear it’s the same guy we saw at the airport on Saturday. You know, the one with the camo pants?” Dan looked uncertain. “Remember? He was kindof an ass hole?”

“Oh, yeah, that guy. Are you sure it was the same guy?” asked Dan.

“Absolutely. Well, mostly absolutely. He was wearing a hat in the surveillance video.”

“Peter, you should probably call that in. Tell them what you know.”

While Peter was thinking about Aura Man and making the phone call to let the police know what he saw at the airport, his vision blurred. “Ugh, not again,” he said as he put a hand over his eyes. With his other hand, he groped around for the chair.

“Are you still feeling sick?” asked Dan. “You sure you don’t want to just pull up a bed next to mine and meet my nurse?”

“No, I’ll be fine in a minute.” The significance of all the events was starting to dawn on Peter. He remembered a breathing technique that one of the web pages he read recommended for stressful situations, and he tried it out: a deep breath in through his nose, held for a second, and then released through his mouth. He repeated this several times, trying to focus his mind on a happy memory.

In his mind, he was standing on the pitcher’s mound at school, getting ready to throw the ball that would win them the championship. He could hear the sounds of the fans for both teams clapping and calling out. He imagined seeing the field around him and could make it out clearly, and the bleachers along its edge. He could see the dugouts on both sides, with the opposing team trying to distract him. He thought he could smell the freshly cut grass, and feel the sun warming him, comforting him.

The sun... the sun... In his mind’s eye, he took off his baseball cap and looked up at the sun in a cloudless sky and it filled his vision. He couldn’t see anything in the brightness, even while squinting his eyes. Then he begins to see vague, blurry shapes moving around him. The horizon is a stark contrast between the yellow earth and the blue sky. The sounds of the game and the smell of the grass have all faded away. Peter focused then on the shapes that were moving across the yellow of the ground. The heat was suddenly unbearable, oppressive. The clothes Peter wore seemed to pull him down. The shapes snapped into focus. He could see dark-skinned people running. Something close to his face obscured his vision. There was a dark shape in the lower half of his field of vision, but he wasn’t looking at it. He was looking at one of the people running in the sand. Sand! This must be some kind of beach or desert. He didn’t see the ocean or smell the surf. He was in a desert. Then he felt a punch in his shoulder and saw a flash of light between him and the man running. A red cloud erupted from the man’s head. He took another clumsy step forward and fell hard onto the ground. “Oh, my God,” thought Peter. “I just shot someone.”

The vision ended and he opened his eyes to see Dan’s beautiful brunette nurse standing over him. He was still sitting in the chair, but his body was rigid, upright. His left arm was out in front of him palm up, and his right hand was curled loosely, with his fingers pressed against his face. His head was cocked slightly. Altogether he was in a perfect pose for someone with a rifle in hand. The nurse was asking if he was okay. Once the room became his reality, Peter felt nauseous. The sensation of having just sent a bullet through someone’s skull was too much for him. He launched himself out of his chair and ran for the bathroom, vomiting into the toilet violently. He stayed in the bathroom until there wasn’t anything left, then sat on the cool tile floor for another five minutes before his mother walked into the bathroom.

“Peter, you are white as a ghost,” she said, reaching for one of the washcloths. She got the cloth wet in the sink and wiped it across Peter’s lips. She rinsed it off, then pressed it to his forehead. It did feel good, and before long, Peter was able to stand up and move back to the chair next to the bed again.

“Do you want to tell us what that was all about?” the nurse asked. “I can’t have you in here if you’re sick.”

Peter looked at the nurse, then at his mother before answering. “I’m alright.” He didn’t want to worry his mother. Neither did Dan. When Peter looked at Dan in the bed, an unspoken understanding passed between them. They would talk later, but not around mom. “I think all the stress just got to me. And oddly enough, I’m hungry.”

“Laura has some food for you out in the lounge,” his mother said. “But are you sure you can eat?”

Peter felt a tingling in his nose, just as he had felt at the house when his nose began to bleed. He stood up quickly and grabbed a tissue, then covered his exit with enthusiasm over food. “Laura brought food? Alright! Hey, I’ll be in the lounge if you need me.” He walked out of the room with a bad Arnold impersonation of, “I’ll be back.” Once outside the room, he stuffed the tissue in his nose to stem the blood that he could feel wanting to rush out and headed for the bathroom near the lounge.