I've read a lot of stories about high school reunions where the wife cheats with an old boyfriend and gets caught, or not. I figured there had to be another outcome that we don't always get to hear. This story is inspired by the question, "What is the old boyfriend like?" I'm thinking that I wasn't very kind in providing the answer, but then I didn't want to be.
This story contains a lot of internal monologue appropriate to a character in this position.
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I awoke to a slow, rhythmic sound. "Clock woosh, clock woosh, clock woosh,..." Where was I? What was that smell? The odor of disinfectant filled my nostrils. My mouth was dry. How long have I been here? I struggled to open my eyes, but it was so bright! With a groan, I shut them immediately and concentrated on breathing. I couldn't move and every breath I took felt like a knife passing through my side. I slowly became conscious of pain everywhere like a veil lifting from my mind.
"He's waking up."
Who was that?
"Mr. Davis, can you hear me?"
I nodded, or I think I did.
"Mr. Davis, you're in the hospital. You were brought in last night. The doctor will be in to speak with you as soon as he's available. Just try to relax and don't move any more than you need to."
I tried to raise my hand and, oh crap that hurts! What the hell did they do to my arm? The pain goes all the way up to my shoulder. The stabbing pain makes me breathe even harder and that knife passes through me again. What the hell is going on?
I decided to lie still and just try to breathe slow, shallow breaths.
I guess she left and in time I tried again to open my eyes. The vision in my left eye was a blur, and my right eye was dark. I think a nurse walked by, so that confirmed what they told me. Another glanced in my direction. She must have seen me licking my lips, because she offered me a straw and I took a sip. Oh, yeah, that's good.
I don't know how much time passed. I was trying to avoid anything that caused me pain, but since that included breathing, I wasn't having much success.
A white coat is walking in my direction. "Mr. Davis, I'm Dr. Petel. You were brought in last night by EMS. How are you feeling?"
"How the fuck do you think I'm feeling, you..." At least, that's what I tried to say.
"Don't try to speak, Mr. Davis. Your nose is broken, and your cheekbone has a hairline fracture."
What the hell? He asks me a question and then tells me not to speak?!
"You were in surgery for four hours last night to rebuild your right knee. You also have three broken ribs on your right side and a compound fracture of your right forearm."
"Eye?"
"Yes, your right eye is swollen shut, but the damage is superficial. The swelling should go down in a few days. You did have a mild concussion when they brought you in, so we want you to take it easy for a while. You'll be staying with us until we know you're out of the woods."
"How?"
"Sorry, Mr. Davis. I'm not supposed to answer that question. When you're ready, the police want to talk with you. In the meantime, they don't want us to bias your answers.
"The nurses are here to take care of you. For now, I suggest you just get some rest. You're still in post op, but they'll be moving you to a room soon."
And then he was gone. That was it? What the hell happened to me? I was drinking and hanging with friends. I was dancing with... Oh, yeah, Karen. It was coming back to me. I was dancing with Karen, my old high school girlfriend. She was grinding on my leg and rubbing against me. My god, she was even hotter than when we were in school. Some guy kept trying to cut in. Who was he? It doesn't matter. She kept laughing him off and telling him to let her have some fun for once. Oh, yeah, I remember now. The wimp was her husband.
They moved me to a semi-private room, and I got a little sleep. I wanted them to put me to sleep for a week, but they refused. They said something about the concussion. Could it get any worse?
I don't think I slept long, but there's no way to tell. Time passed slowly when I was awake, and I measured time in breaths. Small, shallow breaths hurt less. My throat was raw. Where's the nurse? It even hurt to swallow.
Who are those people making all that noise? They must be visiting the guy in the other bed. Would they please just shut the hell up?
Breathe easy. Take shallow breaths. Just try to relax.
Where are my visitors? Where's my wife? She should be here. I haven't seen my parents or my sister's family. Do they even know I'm here?
"Mr. Davis?"
I opened my one good eye. He's looking down at me, cheap brown suit, notebook, must be a cop. I nod.
"Mr. Davis, I'm Detective George Abbott. I've been assigned to your case. What can you tell me about last night?"
I try to explain. "I got jumped! I was minding my own business..."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Davis. I can't understand what you're saying."
"Detective, he's not ready. All the swelling is keeping him from speaking and the pain meds have him groggy. You should come back tomorrow."
"Thanks, nurse. Mr. Davis, I'll be back when you're ready to speak." The suit turned and walked out.
What the fu...! I'm ready! Find the guy!
My side is hurting again, and my leg has started to throb. "Nurse! Nurse! My leg."
"Mr. Davis, is your leg hurting? Your pain medication is probably wearing off. I'll get you something." She comes back with two pills and some water with a straw. "Just lie there and try to be calm. Don't move any more than you need to. You'll feel better tomorrow." She's gone before I can ask her where my wife is.
I slept fitfully that night and the next day they have me on my feet with a walker. That's what they do now. When you have knee surgery, they want you up and walking right away. I walked to the far end of the hall and back. Then they ice my knee and four hours later they have me do it again. I'm taking Oxycontin as fast as they'll give them to me and popping ibuprofen and acetaminophen in between like Tic Tacs.
I'm lying in my bed when the suit returns. "Mr. Davis, you may not remember me. I'm Detective George Abbott and I'm here to talk with you about what happened." He paused for a moment as I nodded and then he continued. "How much of it do you remember?"
I shrugged. "I remember the evening and leaving the party. I was walking across the parking lot when I got hit from behind. I vaguely remember going down, but that's about it."
"Do you remember what happened before that?"
"It was our tenth high school reunion. I drove down from Chicago where I live now. It was a blowout. The committee decorated the gym and we finally got to have all those drinks we couldn't get when we were in school there." I thought that would get him, but Detective Abbott didn't even crack a smile. "I was catching up with my buddies, meeting some of the wives, all the usual stuff. My old girlfriend, Karen, was there with her wimpy husband. She ran over as soon as she saw me and dragged me out on the dance floor. Damn, she was even sexier than when we were in school. One song and it was like we were back in school. She melted into me like she always did and before long she was dry humping my leg. I mean, damn, she always was a stone-cold fox, but that night she was out of control." Okay, I was bragging a little, but it was true, and I was just getting to the good stuff.
