Bad Boy Blues(123)

They think that they can ruin your life whenever they want to. Turn your mom against you because they really think you’d benefit from in-patient treatment.

Fucking assholes.

I shift in my seat, feeling embarrassed. “Well, I just heard the nurses talking.”

Renn sits back with a smile. “Oooh. Do you think he’s a doctor too?”

“Could be.” This comes from Penny.

Damn it.

If someone new is coming, I don’t want them to be a doctor. This stupid hospital doesn’t need another evil overlord.

Renn widens her eyes before craning her neck toward the door, as if whoever Simon is, he’s gonna come striding in. “Oh my God, I’m so intrigued. Oh, please let him be handsome. And older. Like, at least ten years older. I’ve got a thing for older guys,” she informs us, like we don’t know.

“Or maybe he’s not a doctor. He’s a patient. Not everyone follows in their parents’ footsteps,” I say.

“Whatever. I just want him to be older.”

“Yes, let him be older,” I agree and Renn fist-pumps. And then, just to tease her, I add, “Oh, and wrinkled. Yup, a wrinkled old man who farts twice every hour.”

Renn flips me the bird and my smile widens.

“Why don’t you guys want me to eat?” Penny pushes her tray away in disgust. “If he’s a doctor, then this kind of talk is inappropriate.”

“How about we bet on it? We can play for lime jello.” Renn grins.

On the Outside, I hated lime jello. It looks like puke, tastes like puke. It’s plain puke. But on the Inside, it’s all I ever wanna eat. I don’t know why.

Could be the meds. They started me on a new cocktail as soon as I got here and that’s always a disaster. My first week here wasn’t pretty what with all the withdrawal-like symptoms that I went through after being taken off my old meds. They say my drugs aren’t addictive but still, it felt like I was attacked by a stomach bug.

Meds have fucked with my life a lot. My body is thirty percent me, and the other seventy is what meds made me. I wouldn’t be surprised if they fucked my palate too. Renn calls it The Heartstone Effect; fuckery of drugs and psychotherapy.

Penny thinks about Renn’s offer. “Fine. My money’s on a new doctor, only five years older than Renn,” she says, before picking up her book and resuming reading.

Renn sticks her tongue out at her, before turning to the fourth occupant of our table. “What about you, Vi? You want in on this?”

Vi, aka Violet Moore. She doesn’t talk much. In fact, she’s the one I’ve got a lot of things in common with. She’s quiet. She’s more or less invisible. People pass her by without noticing.

But unlike me, I think she chooses to be invisible. It’s because she’s grieving. Her fiancé died a few months ago and she might as well have died with him. No one knows what caused his death, not even Renn, and I haven’t had the courage to ask Vi.

I wish I could.

I wish I could ask her what she thinks about when she stares out the window. She clearly isn’t watching the rain like me. I wish I could ask her why she always has an empty chair next to her. Is it for her fiancé? Is she waiting for him as if he were alive and might walk over any second to take his place?

When Renn calls her name, Vi turns away from the window, bringing her flat brown eyes to us. “I’m with Renn. He’s a handsome new doctor with at least fifteen years on us.”

“Perfect. I’m so excited,” Renn squeals.

Just as Renn sets out the rules, Beth enters the hall. She’s Dr. Martin’s wife and the hospital administrator.

Usually, she has a smile on her weathered face but today she looks a tiny bit frazzled. “Happy Monday, everyone,” she begins, her greeting sounding less than enthusiastic. “Hope we’re all doing well and enjoying our breakfast.”

At this, she gets cut off as a couple of people boo her. It doesn’t deter her, though. “I tell you this with a very heavy heart, that…” She sighs. “Friday night, Dr. Martin suffered a sudden heart attack and had to be hospitalized over the weekend, and…”

She swallows, trying to gather herself, as a shock wave runs through the room. “And, well, he’s doing fine right now, and he’s expected to make a full recovery. But it means that he won’t be able to come back to work for a few weeks.”

The murmurs and boos that had died down before Beth started talking come back to life, louder, more agitated.

Even though I’m not the one contributing to the ruckus, I’m kind of shocked, too. He was fine the last time I saw him. He smiled at me in the hallway, his white mop of hair glinting in the afternoon sun that was filtering through the big window in the TV room. He was chatting with a few patients, who all looked at him like he hung the moon. For them, he probably did.

He is super popular with the patients and the staff.

I remember thinking, how can you love your doctor? I mean, he’s a doctor. A psychiatrist, no less. Someone who prescribes you meds and arranges your life in a series of therapy sessions. But even I wouldn’t wish any harm on him.

Beth manages to calm people down with the help of techs and continues, “I know you guys are upset and I understand. Of course I do. I’m upset, too. Some of you have been very close to him, and I promise you he’s fine. I’ll let him know how much you guys love him. He’ll appreciate that.”