The Coward by Jarred McGinnis

Author:Jarred McGinnis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Canongate Books

29

At a job interview to do filing and data entry for a machining company, the interviewer’s high-pitched and nasal voice annoyed me. My back had been constant agony for weeks, and I no longer had the patience to pretend they might consider hiring me. In response to her question about ‘employment gaps’, I let out a long slow groan, my eyes rolling back, my mouth hanging open.

The interviewer pushed my wheelchair into the lobby as I disguised giggles as moans. She scuttled behind the door unlocked by the swipe of the ID card at her neck.

‘The ambulance will be here shortly,’ the security guard said.

I straightened up to make my getaway, the joke gone too far, but a sharp and genuine pain cut me in half.

By the time a tweedledee and dumb of paramedics pulled a gurney through the automatic doors, I was twisted into myself and holding my abdomen against white hot tentacles squeezing agony out of organs I didn’t know the names of.

‘I’m going to faint,’ I said. The trip to the hospital and admission was a skipping stone, brief touches of consciousness before bouncing into blackness: the jerking bounce of being loaded into the back of the ambulance, siren ringing above while one of the tweedles filled in a form, the sliding force of a corner taken quickly, the blast of AC as we rushed through hospital corridors, a beautiful woman in a doctor’s coat asking where it hurt, needles, a white one-eyed machine whirring above, stillness, quiet and then lots of black.

‘Sir, can you get your pants off by yourself? We need to have a look at your pecker and the plumbing,’ said an older man with a stethoscope and a thick Texan drawl.

‘Doctor, I prefer Latin-based words when a stranger’s looking at my genitals.’

‘Suit yourself. Need help with your drawers?’

Jack entered my room with a nurse who was explaining, ‘Your son had bladder stones and has been experiencing associated pain but he attributed it to his spinal-cord injury and stress. The surgery was simple and performed without complications.’

‘Fancy meeting you here,’ I said.

‘Mr. McGinnis,’ the nurse addressed me. ‘You can leave as soon as you feel up to it. You’ll be in a fair amount of pain. You can take two every four hours.’ She shook a bottle of pills.

‘Four every two hours, got it,’ I said, and gave Jack a wink.

‘No, two pills, four hours. No more than eight in a twenty-four-hour period. That’s important. You should be drinking ten to fifteen eight-ounce glasses of water every day. Your urine will be pink. This is okay, but if it persists for more than three days you need to contact us. The phone number is on your discharge sheet. Do you have any questions?’

‘Yes, ma’am. Will I . . . give it to me straight, will I ever walk again?’

‘Um. Um. I think you know the answer to that.’ The nurse fled.

I giggled.

‘Feeling better, I see,’ Jack said. ‘Ready to go home? Let me find your wheelchair.

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