The Creep by Michael LaPointe

Author:Michael LaPointe [LaPointe, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House of Canada
Published: 2021-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

5.

I roused in the back of the truck. They had me on a stretcher. Someone was tweezing glass from my cheek and the pain was blinding, one side of my face swollen and hot, as if boiled. I felt the plastic mask over my mouth and breathed deeply.

When I blinked awake again, eyelids sticking, I was in Ascension Hospital, and there was Dr. Kriss.

“Everything is going to be alright,” she said, smiling.

I touched the throbbing side of my face. Dr. Kriss arranged the pillow behind me.

“You were lucky,” she said, quickly checking my pupils with a flashlight. “It’s not more than a minor concussion. The glass missed your eye. I stitched you up myself.”

To this day, in a certain winter light, you can see the scars on my forehead and cheek.

“The bullet missed you,” she said.

“Bullet?”

“Some kids shot at your window. I came off the golf course as soon as I heard.”

I looked over my bruised arms in search of an IV.

“It’s okay,” she said, reading my mind. “You didn’t need a transfusion. I suppose it would’ve created a conflict of interest if you’d been given the solution.”

My smile was cut short by the pain in my cheek.

“Sorry,” she said, and took one of my hands in hers. “Just relax, Whitney. You’ll be out of here later today.”

I asked about the Jeep. She said it was a write-off. I closed my eyes while she stroked my hand. Very few women had ever touched me like this. I felt safe, ready for sleep. Then I heard: “Animals.”

It was Mayor Peggy Vance. Dr. Kriss told her to be quiet, but I was awake again. She came forward bearing a massive gift basket wrapped in pink foil and set it on my bedside table.

“Whitney,” said the mayor, “I’m absolutely devastated.”

“It’s alright.”

“I’ve got half the city’s police force looking for these thugs. We’ve been counting on you to give Arcade a chance. I don’t want this to be your lasting impression.”

Dr. Kriss passed me a paper cup of water. Then, in my foggy way, I told the mayor the incident was unlikely to make it into the story. At best, it would warrant mention to illustrate conditions in the Tomahawk, but I wasn’t writing a review of her city.

My assurances seemed to cheer her up. In fact, they caused her to lose interest.

“Good,” she said. “That’s good. Please, accept this with our compliments.”

The mayor gestured to the gift basket, an assortment of goods from the merchants of Arcade: cranberry pistachio bark, buffalo sausage, an Antlers bath pillow.

“If you need anything else,” she said.

“Thanks, Peggy,” said Dr. Kriss, and the mayor left.

I thought Dr. Kriss would say something about our conversation on Wigwam Deck, but this was no longer about the story. She’d accepted me into her care, and so she sat with me, silently, consolingly, until I fell asleep.

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