Stray by Nancy J. Hedin

Author:Nancy J. Hedin [Doherty, Kay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NineStar Press, LGBT, New adult, contemporary, family drama, lesbian, gay, vet, farm, homophobic beating, church, politics, social worker, mystery
Publisher: NineStar Press
Published: 2019-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

I CALLED CHARITY over and over, but her cell went to voicemail and I became tired of leaving messages that didn’t seem to warrant a return call. I wanted to go visit Ricky straight away. Dad said not to, but I didn’t listen. I went to the hospital, bought an overpriced mylar balloon of Mickey Mouse at the gift shop, and found Ricky’s room. Ricky slept deeply like Dad described, but he was in a medically induced coma, not regular sleep like he did sometimes on the couch at the farm. I laughed to myself thinking of him hugging his pillow and drooling all over his Wonder Woman pillowcase.

In the hospital bed he was flat on his back with tubes poking out of him keeping the balance of fluids coming and going.

“Ricky, I love your yellow purse!” He’d die to see himself with a catheter bag. I immediately hated myself for having that thought. Don’t die.

“Ricky, I don’t know the rules for this. Should I update you about your condition? I don’t even know if you can hear me.” Act as if, Lorraine. He’s your friend and he needs to talk with you, or at least hear you talk.

“You never were much for pregnant silences. If it were me in that bed you’d be jabbering about something or telling me how to look better. Don’t worry, I won’t try to cosmetologize you. I don’t know how, but I can tell you about your body. I’m almost a vet, you know.”

I sat on a chair I pulled up to his bed. “Well, your makeup is overdone. That is to say you’ve got some bruising.” This is dumb. I sound like a fool.

What else? “It might feel a bit discombobulating that you’ve got all these bandages and tubes, but you aren’t in any pain. The pain is there. You’re just doped up pretty good so you don’t have to manage all the pain signals your body is sending out. If we could show you your pain signals it would look like one of those TV weather maps when a big storm is going through. You don’t need that.” I gave the room a once-over. There were a couple of bouquets of carnations. That’s what smells like the funeral home. Somebody had brought magazines. Maybe I can read to him next time.

“They x-rayed you and taped up your broken ribs. There’s splints on your fingers. Lucky for me I guess or you’d be trying to fix my hair.” Lost cause.

“Good news is they’ve detected no internal bleeding. Infection is still a risk. I’m guessing part of the cocktail going into your veins is some antibiotics. They stitched you up in a few places.” I’m not saying anything about scars. He doesn’t need to worry about still being pretty.

I scratched my head. “Obviously, you got hit in the noggin hard enough to break your jaw, but the doctor’s saying there’s no signs of brain bleed or swelling. That’s really important information and if

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