Learning to Walk, a City Hospital Novel (4 page)

“No, I never have. I’ve had patients with them, though. Not fun, I know.” Neil took his hand again. “They should be here any minute now.”

“I hope to fu--God that they don’t use the siren.” Kit could just imagine the neighbors’ reaction to that. “This sucks so much.”

As if on cue, sirens sounded in the background.

“Sorry, Kit. They need to get here as quickly as possible, and they need the sirens for that.”

Kit groaned. “Call my dad. Now. Someone else will.” He wanted to cry. All he’d managed to do was screw up one thing after another all day. Maybe he’d get lucky and they’d just drug him out of his brains until... well, until the whole nightmare of his life was over with.

Neil grabbed his phone. “His number’s here?”

“Uh-huh. Under ‘D’.” Kit bit his lip as he heard medics coming in and kept his eyes closed until they started talking to him.

As they got him onto the backboard and put the collar around his neck, he could hear Neil in the background, assuring his father that everything was okay; they were just being cautious.

Kit answered questions and tried not to be a jerk. The medics, in turn, were efficient and careful and warned him before they lifted him up. He still felt like an idiot, though. “Lock up, please, Neil?” he said as he headed to the door, gaze on the ceiling.

“I’ve got your back, Kit.”

That, too, almost made Kit cry. He had no choice but to believe it. “All right, gentlemen. Let’s go.” He sighed, closed his eyes, and hoped the ride to the hospital would be quick.

Chapter Three

Neil sat by Kit’s bed in the ER, reading a magazine as he waited for the doctor to show up to release Kit. It was late, but Kit didn’t want to stay, and Neil couldn’t blame the man. He was glad Kit had managed to fall asleep a while ago, though.

He’d drive Kit home once they got out and stop somewhere to grab some supper. Kit had to be starving; he knew he was.

“Dad?” Kit’s voice was muffled, both quiet and slurred. A moment later he said, more clearly, “Oh. Right.”

“It’s Neil.” He found Kit’s hand and took it, squeezed. “We’re still at the hospital. Nancy assured me Dr. Guy will be here soon.”

“Then I can go home?” Kit sounded almost like a kid, hoping. “Is it late at night? Did you talk to my dad again?”

“You can go home as soon as the doctor signs the papers. You’re fine. Just a bit of bruising. Yes, it’s late, and yes, I talked to your dad. He said he’d leave the door open so I can help you get in without waking him up.”

“Okay.” Kit adjusted his blanket with one hand, not looking up to Neil’s face. “Was he upset? Like, worried?”

“Of course he was worried. I think I managed to convince him that you were fine, though.”

“Thanks.” Kit’s voice had dropped to almost a whisper. “He worries too much. I didn’t help at all this time.”

“He’s your dad; worrying goes with the territory.” He squeezed Kit’s hand again, offering support.

“It’s reversed. I’m supposed to be worrying about him now. I’m supposed to be getting my life all... out of his house. And making him go to singles dances and out on coffee dates with women I can compare to my mother. He’s not supposed to be doing my laundry again, and driving me all over the place, and being the only one I talk to, other than doctors.” Kit didn’t seem to be noticing the hand squeezes, or at least wasn’t telling him to stop.

“Shit happens, Kit. I’m sure your father would rather have to do all that stuff than bury you.” Maybe that was harsh, but it was the truth.

Kit took his hand away. “I know. Where’s the doctor?”

“He’ll be here as soon as he can. You should try to rest some more. Sleep is good for you.”

“I’m hungry.” His gaze flicked to Neil and then away. “Not whining. Just stating. I can’t sleep when I’m hungry.”

“We’ll stop for food on our way back to your place. Hell, if you’re feeling up to it, we can go to this all-night diner close by. Otherwise we’ll hit a drive-through.”

“Drive-through is fine.” Kit’s look moved to the foot of his bed where a man in a white coat was approaching. “Are you my doctor?”

“This time.” He nodded hello to Neil and offered his hand. “Dr. Stephen Guy. Ready to get out of here?”

“God, yes.” Kit was looking around, apparently for a wheelchair. “Now?”

“Sure. As long as you call us or come back if you have sudden, sharp pain. Other than that, you’re all set. Do you have a ride home?”

“Yeah, I’ve got him.” Neil stood and held out his hand. “Neil Kirkpatrick. I know Brian.”

“My Brian?” A broad smile crossed the doctor’s face, and he shook hands. “I’m late getting home to him, actually. Nice to meet you.”

Kit was looking back and forth between the two of them.

“Yeah, your Brian. And we certainly won’t keep you -- Kit’s anxious to get home. Say hey to Brian for me.”

“Will do.” Stephen smiled at them both, gave Neil a little bottle of pills, wished Kit a good night, and headed off to the nurses’ station, presumably to do paperwork.

“Who is his Brian?” Kit asked.

“He’s an EMT and Stephen’s partner.” Neil pocketed the painkillers. “I have your chair, lemme just go get it.”

“Was he one of the EMTs at my place today?” Kit looked wildly curious for the first time Neil could remember.

“No, he wasn’t. Why?”

“No reason. You’re...” He paused while he pulled his legs around and got himself sitting properly to transfer to his chair. “You’re really relaxed with the idea of them being together. The whole ‘my Brian’ thing.”

“Well, I’d like to think I’d be relaxed about it anyway, but as it happens, I’m gay.”

“Huh.” Kit gave him a long look. “I can usually tell. Maybe the accident smacked my senses around, too.” He shook his head and set his shoulders, apparently ready for his chair. “I am, too. Just so you know.”

He thought maybe it was more a matter of Kit just not caring before now, and he took it as a good sign that Kit was starting to notice this kind of thing.

“Cool. It’s always good to meet family.”

“Speaking of family, I need to get home to mine.” Kit sighed. “I am going to hurt tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Have you got some painkillers at home?” He started wheeling Kit out.

“All kinds. All the kinds there are.” Kit took a breath and let it out slowly. “Thank you for coming when I called.”

“Anytime, Kit. And I mean that.” He was sorry that Kit didn’t have any friends who had stayed around long enough to help, but he was glad to have been there.

“Hopefully never again.” Kit shivered as they got outside. “I think I’ll wait a while before I try to make supper again.”

“If you want, I can spend some time with you -- set up your kitchen, teach you how to reach, how to work the various appliances from the chair.”

“We had someone in for that. It’s the stuff that can’t change that’s a problem. I can’t reach into the freezer, and we can’t afford a new one. The range knobs are too far away to turn off when the burner is hot. That kind of thing.”

“You know there’s grants for that kind of thing, right?”

“I thought the plan was for me not to need to stay in the chair.” Kit looked up at him. “I’m not going to remodel my father’s house and make it all lovely for me. It’s not my house. I am not going to be living there forever.”

Neil grinned down at Kit. “I like that attitude, man. That’s what’s going to get you moving faster than anything.”

Kit nodded. “I’m... I don’t want to be rude. I really don’t. But I’m sore and exhausted and hungry, and while I really appreciate you giving me a lift home, along with everything else you did today, can we kind of... hurry up?”

Neil bit back his laughter. “You got it.” He wheeled Kit over to the staff parking lot.

“Do you think I’ll be able to do therapy tomorrow? I can already feel things hurting and getting tight, and that’s with the painkillers.”

“And it’s really late.” Neil thought about it for a bit. “Tell you what. I finish at three tomorrow and I can do my paperwork during your scheduled appointment. So I can drop by around three-thirty and work on some stretches with you to help ease the stiffness and make sure we aren’t falling backward.”

Kit seemed to think about that for a moment, then nodded. “All right. There’s enough room in the living room to do that. I’ll let Dad know.” Kit looked up at him again. “You know he’s waiting up, right?”

“I figured as much, though I told him not to.” He helped Kit get into the front seat, then folded down the wheelchair and tossed it in the back seat.

When Neil got in the car, Kit had his seatbelt done up and was leaning back with his eyes closed. “You’ll find,” Kit said, not opening his eyes, “that my father is as stubborn as I am. It’s one of the many ways we’re alike and a prime reason why we shouldn’t live together as adults for any longer than we need to. We love each other too much to ruin our relationship by sharing space.”

“It’s great that he can be there for you, though, at a time like this.” A lot of families fell apart over this kind of thing.

“We’re kind of used to pulling together. Us against the world. I’m an only child, and when my mom died...” Kit’s voice trailed off and he shrugged. “Well, anyway.” He looked over. “Enough of that.”

Neil reached out and gave Kit’s arm a squeeze before starting up the car. “When did that happen?”

“Oh, years ago.” Kit’s eyes were open, but he was looking out his window as they pulled out of the space. “I was almost nineteen. Coming up on ten years, I guess.”

“That’s a tough time to lose a parent.” Neil snorted. “Sorry, I can’t think of a good time.”

“That’s for sure.” Kit nodded. “It was really hard on my dad. I did what I could. I keep waiting for him to find someone new, but he doesn’t seem to want to. It worries me.”

“Is he depressed?”

“I don’t think so. Just doesn’t have an interest in dating. And now he’s putting all his time into taking care of me, which sucks.”

“Before you got hurt, did he have interests outside the home?”

“Sure.” Kit’s fingers moved on his leg, rubbing absently and working a crease into his jeans. “He went out with buddies once in a while for dinners or a game, and he has a poker night. He goes to the gym.”

“It sounds like he had a pretty full life, outside interests -- maybe he just doesn’t want to find anyone else.”

“Maybe not. But he’s not even sixty, and that’s a lot of life left to spend alone, you know? I worry.”

“Sounds like he’s as lucky to have you as you are to have him.” Neil pulled into the Tim Horton’s drive-through. “So, what do you want to eat?”

“Tuna, I guess. And a Boston Creme doughnut. No coffee.” Kit patted his pockets. “I can never remember which pocket I put my wallet in anymore.”

Neil put the order in for a tuna and an egg salad sandwich, both on croissants, and a Boston Creme doughnut and an everything cookie for himself, along with a milk. “It’s okay, I’ve got it,” he told Kit once he’d confirmed the order with the scratchy voice coming out of the box.

“I’ll get the next one.” Kit found his wallet in his shirt pocket and glared at it. “The moment I can easily shift my hips and lift my butt, this is going back where it belongs.”

Neil laughed, the words surprising him.

“Seriously! You have no idea how it’s the smallest things that cause the most annoyance. Like, keys. Wallets. Where to put things, how to store things, how the nightstand is on the wrong side of the bed suddenly, since it’s on the left and I’m right handed. The whole world is one big petty problem to be figured out.”

“Or one big adventure -- everything is new again!” He gave Kit a wink.

Kit snorted at him. “If you say so. Can I eat in your car?”

“Yeah, sure.” He handed over the money and accepted the two bags and their milk. He gave the bags to Kit. “Knock yourself out.”

Kit mumbled a thanks, already rummaging in the bag. “You want yours?” he asked, tearing at the paper around the tuna sandwich.

“I’ll wait ‘til we’re there.” He’d worked with too many accident victims to use the phone, eat, or drink while driving.

“’Kay.” Kit spoke past a mouthful of sandwich. “You can come in an’ eat. Dad will want to quiz you anyway.”

“Sounds like a plan. We’re almost there.”

Kit kept eating, finishing most of his sandwich before they pulled into the driveway. He didn’t slow down any, either, so it seemed likely that he’d be happy to keep on going, if not for their arrival.

The door opened as Neil pulled up and got out, Kit’s father coming down the stairs. “Hey, Mr. Matheson, good to see you.”

“You, too. Thanks for taking care of him.” Mr. Matheson offered his hand for a shake, but his attention was clearly on Kit. “How is he?”

“I’m fine, Dad.” Kit had his door open. “Really. Go on in, me and Neil will be right there.”

His father looked reluctant. “All right. Anything need carrying?”

Kit passed out the Tim Horton’s bags without saying anything, and Mr. Matheson took them with a nod. “There’s tea on. That herbal stuff you like.” Then he went on in, leaving the door open for them.

Neil went around and got out the wheelchair, opening it up next to Kit. “Wow, based on what you said, I’m surprised that he didn’t insist on helping you get in.”

“He was going to.” Kit sighed. “He didn’t want to baby me in front of you, though.” They worked together to get Kit into the chair and then headed up the ramp. “He likes you.”

“Well, yeah, I’m helping his son recover. Plus, I’m hard to dislike.”

Kit made a choking sound but laughed at the end of it. “Oh, I don’t know about that. You’re not my favorite person for several hours a day.” He seemed amused by that. “At the moment, though, you’re the provider of sandwiches and rides home.”

“See? What’s not to like?” Neil grinned. He knew his patients hated him sometimes. But that was his job.

Mr. Matheson met them at the door but stood out of the way as Neil wheeled Kit in. “I put the food on the table,” he said as he closed the door behind them. “Would you two like anything else?”

“Just some cereal, Dad. Thanks.” Kit’s hands were on his wheels and he propelled himself to the table. “Do we smell like hospital?”

“A bit.” Mr. Matheson got down a bowl and a box of cereal. “So, how bad is it?”