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| Image: http://pastelhospital.tumblr.com/ |
The hallways are always pretty wide in a hospital. Moving gurneys surrounded by hordes of people need lots of space to maneuver. The nurses' station was on our right, I gestured to the left and we rolled on.
“It's odd, usually they'll give you a wheelchair with an IV stand connected,” Father Williams said.
“They don't want us leaving the floor, so they're going to make it as inconvenient as possible,” I said, dragging the IV stand along with me. “We are leaving the floor, aren't we?”
Father Williams said nothing as we turned a corner to find the tell-tale stainless steel doors of an elevator.
“So where are we?” I asked, pushing the call button.
I could hear the smile in his voice. “You seem more lucid than that, we're in the United--”
“Don't give me that shit, Father. What hospital?
“Saint Mercy's”
“Down town? Huh.”
“Is that significant?”
“It just means you won't have to drive me that far.”
The elevator chimed and the door opened. Three people stood quietly inside as he wheeled me in.
“You think I'll drive you out of here, in your condition?”
It's awkward enough being suck in an elevator with people you don't know. It's almost like forced intimacy. I figured we could use some alone time anyway.
“My condition? My condition?” I asked incredulously. “I wouldn't be in here if you hadn't switched my meds!”
Father Williams stared down at me with a mixture of shock and bewilderment. As quiet as an elevator full of strangers usually is, this one seemed to have found the mute button.
“You know how Mother gets when I'm not lucid, we grew up in the same damn house! You knew she would take advantage of me!” The woman at the back of the elevator stepped around us and put an arm through the closing doors, opening them again, then stepped out in a hurry. One down.
“I mean, seriously, Michael. There's more than broken ribs here. There's a broken heart.” I put my head down into my hands and wept as the doors finally closed.
“I-- I uh...” Father Williams stuttered. I heard one of the other occupants reach forward and press a button.
“I... I didn't know you felt that way,” he said.
“Of course not! You spend all your time at that church helping the 'needy.' We'll I'm your family, Michael and I'm needy too. I'll never earn Mother's love now!” I continued wailing.
“Joseph, don't be ridiculous, Mother loves you,” he said finally getting into the act.
“She just beats me and beats me,” I said softly. “The sex isn't even that good anymore.”
The elevator stopped and the remaining occupants rushed out as I cried out at the top of my lungs. The doors closed and we began our descent again.
“Great Oedipus's ghost,” he said.
“So what’s the weather like?” I asked, tugging down on my hospital gown.
“You’re full of surprises, Joe.”
I craned my neck back to look at him. “How do you and the doctors know my name?”
“Your driver’s license,” he said, not looking at me.
Of course, “So they have my wallet?” I asked.
“No, I do.”
I reached up and hit the emergency stop button.
“You have my wallet?” I asked, flatly.
“It made since if I was going to be caring for you.”
“Who asked you to?” I said, frustrated.
“You’re in way over your head,” he said, his thick accent full of concern.
I eyed him cautiously. “According to whom?”
He just stared forward at the closed elevator doors. I gave it up and turned back restarting the elevator. We descended in silence for a while before he started talking again.
“It takes a troubled soul to recognize another,” he said finally. “I don’t know what it is you’ve gotten yourself into, but… The Lord has brought us together for some reason.”
We continued our descent in silence for a time.
“I’m just a normal guy who needs his wallet back,” I said raising my left hand to him.
I heard him rustle in his pockets and place the cool leather in my palm. It wasn’t a familiar object, just something to house my temporary identity. I opened it to see the California driver’s license in the windowed pocket. Joseph Smith it read. It was an odd feeling coming face to face with one of my aliases. I’d spent so much of my recent life avoiding personal interaction with people that having the priest call me by name, not even my real name, gave me an odd twinge of regret. We all make decisions that lead us down a path, there was little point in me regretting the one’s I’d already made. Every time I relived them, I made the same decision anyway so there couldn’t be that much to regret.
“Normal guys may not like who they are but they don’t create false identities to hide behind,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Joseph Smith? You’re not exactly the typical Mormon, Joe.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. I had this guy pegged from the moment he found me on the road, obnoxious to the tee and he was having fun with it. I would be much better off ditching him but like it or not, he was my only way out of here. The elevator began to slow and I pulled the IV needle from my arm with a grunt and stashed it in the corner. Hopefully I didn’t need those drugs as much as the doctors thought I did.
The doors opened at the ground level and we moved out into a maze of hallways bypassing dirty people on their way to the cafeteria, obviously doing their best not to morn or worry. We walked out into a main lobby and the stench of anxiety wafted off every person in there. A hospital was a study in façades. Patients and visitors alike put on their brave faces, but cowered underneath. The pastel colors from my room continued through the entire hospital, it really completed the sad clown feel of the whole place.
The sliding double glass doors opened in front of us and we walked out into a small topiary and concrete forest. Small benches rose out of the sidewalk to surround the bushes and smokers littered the landscape twenty-five feet from the enterence. It was a busy place. Then again, most hospitals are.
He walked me in the opposite direction of what I had assumed was the parking garage until we stopped in a less populated area of the park. He reached into the pocket of his windbreaker and pulled out a brand new pack of Lucky Strikes cigarettes. Unwrapping them, he began to slap the box against his palm, packing them.
“Seriously?” I said as I pulled one from the pack.
He lit the cigarette and took a long deep drag. “The Lord forgives us of our sins, should we choose to seek his forgiveness,” he said, exhaling.
He stood there enjoying his smoke like he hadn’t had one in days. He finished it, extinguishing the embers on the bottom of his shoe. “There is the matter of your gun,” he said
I stared at him in surprise. In all the shit storm of the last couple days I’d forgotten about my Desert Eagle. I put on my best tough guy face, “You have my gun?”
I’ll give the guy credit, he didn’t back down. Not even a little. “Well of course,” he said, “didn’t you wonder why you weren’t handcuffed to the bed?”
I guess the strong man act didn’t work so well sitting in a wheelchair and the casts on my arm and leg didn’t do much for my usual intimidation factor. I hadn’t even considered the implications of an ER visit with a side arm. “When did you take it?”
“Before the paramedics arrived on the scene. I was trying my best to keep you conscious but when I realized you were out I pulled the bulge from under your jacket.”
I just stared at him. It’s very rare that I’m speechless.
“I mean, you’ve obviously got a fake name on your ID –”
“Let me get this straight. First you took my wallet, then you took my gun –”
“Your wallet first, actually.”
“Are you a priest or a mugger?”
He laughed. A genuine, head thrown back, tears in his eyes, belly laugh. All I could do was stare.
“They say the Lord works in mysterious ways. Well, so do his children,” he said. “I don’t know why I took it, I just knew you needed help.”
“Where is it?” I demanded, “give me my—” I looked to make sure no one had come to check on us yet, “gun.”
“Well I don’t have it here, lad,” he said when his laughter subsided. “I’m a man of God, and this is a hospital.”
I scowled at him from under a dumbfounded stare. He raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Saint Anne Cathedral,” he said. “Down by the docs. You shouldn’t have much trouble finding it.”
“Finding it?” I said, “You’re going to take me there right now!”
He grabbed the wheelchair and started heading back for the enterance to the hospital. “I don’t think so, Joe. I find a man in your position is far too likely to commit violence. You need some time to cool down.”
“You heard the doctor,” he said, “A few more days of observation and they’ll discharge you. Patience is one of God’s greatest virtues.”
I wasn’t about to go back upstairs. Someone had already tried to kill me, if they found out I’d lived through the attempt they’d make quick work of me trapped in this pastel prison. My usual threat of violence hadn’t gotten me anywhere and he seemed to have the upper hand on me in every way. I figured it was time to share the last influence I had at my disposal.
“How much is it going to cost me for you to take me to my hotel room?”
“Forty should cover it,” he said.
It was kind of a lowball number but he was a priest and I figured he was taking pity on me. I reached into my wallet to pull out a hundred dollar bill for him but it came back empty. I looked and the whole thing was cleaned out.
“What the hell? You stole my money!”
“Consider it a tithe to the church,” he said.
“How do you expect me to pay you if you’ve taken everything I own?”
“I’ll just put it on your tab, I suppose.”
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