again and I could hear him sigh.
“He was really drunk, and they’re asking me a lot of questions I can’t answer.
Can you come?”
“I’m on my way,”
I answered, throwing off my covers.
“I’ll tell
them,” Jean Marc affirmed.
“And, ah, Jean
Marc.” I paused and my throat tightened. “Thank you for calling me.”
* * *
I was running
through the emergency room entrance to Hammond Hospital when I spotted Jean
Marc. He appeared as if he had just climbed out of bed, complete with a very
wrinkled white T-shirt and rumpled pair of old jeans.
“I called as
soon as the doctors told me what was going on.” His features looked stern and
cold as usual. “Jack didn’t want me to call you, but I knew you’d want to be
here.”
I scanned the
empty emergency room waiting area. “Where is he?”
Jean Marc gently
placed his rough, callused hand on my elbow and motioned past the waiting area
to a wide red door with “Exam Rooms” printed across it. “The doctors need to
speak to you about something they found,” he mentioned as we approached the
front desk. “They had to do blood work when he came in, Nora. They found out
his liver is in bad shape.”
I closed my eyes
and pushed down the scream that was climbing its way up my throat.
Jean Marc put
his arm around my shoulders. “They said he needs more tests. I told them you’re
in the medical field and the only family that gives a damn about him, so they
want to talk to you.” He pulled me alongside of him as we walked through the
red door to the exam rooms. “It’s all right, Nora,” he whispered to me. “I’m
right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Jean Marc’s
presence gave me courage. I found it remarkable that a man I had previously
detested insisted on being there for me. But then I reminded myself that Jean
Marc was my uncle’s friend and employer. I chalked up his dedication to nothing
more than polite concern, but the way his arm felt about my shoulders was
eliciting an entirely different response from me. I quickly shrugged off the
funny tingle in my stomach as indigestion. Over-cooked scrambled eggs, nervous
tension about my uncle, and lingering doubts about my night with John had
overloaded my system. What else could it be? I figured the unusual sensation
would soon be gone and I would have nothing to worry about. I forced the
unsettling tickle out of my mind and focused on my uncle’s situation.
* * *
The sun was just
coming up over the horizon by the time Jean Marc and I were escorting Uncle
Jack from the emergency room entrance. Uncle Jack had been given a pair of
crutches, and a splint covered his right ankle. Jean Marc walked closely beside
him, making sure he did not crash to the ground as he struggled to keep the
crutches underneath him.
“Goddamned
doctors,” Uncle Jack cursed as he hobbled to my car. “Never trust the bastards,
Nora. Always tryin’ to find problems where none exist. Killed your Aunt Elise
that way. They tested her to death.”
“Uncle Jack,
Aunt Elise died of a stroke because she didn’t take care of her high blood
pressure.” I sighed as I fumbled to get the keys from my purse. “This is
something different. You heard the doctor. You have to have further tests to
find out how bad your liver is, and you need to cut back on the drinking.”
“Non! Jamias! I
didn’t want to come here ’cept that this bon rein dragged me here.” He nodded
to Jean Marc.
“I didn’t know
how bad you had hurt yourself, Jack,” Jean Marc admitted in his reserved way.
“I had to bring you here, for liability reasons.”
“Bullshit!”
Uncle Jack barked.
“Enough!” I
shouted. “Uncle Jack, get in the car.” I pointed to the door of my Honda.
My uncle glared
at me, but he said nothing while Jean Marc opened the door for him. Uncle Jack
settled into the front seat while Jean Marc placed his crutches in the back
seat.
“Thank you for
everything,” I said to Jean
“He was really drunk, and they’re asking me a lot of questions I can’t answer.
Can you come?”
“I’m on my way,”
I answered, throwing off my covers.
“I’ll tell
them,” Jean Marc affirmed.
“And, ah, Jean
Marc.” I paused and my throat tightened. “Thank you for calling me.”
* * *
I was running
through the emergency room entrance to Hammond Hospital when I spotted Jean
Marc. He appeared as if he had just climbed out of bed, complete with a very
wrinkled white T-shirt and rumpled pair of old jeans.
“I called as
soon as the doctors told me what was going on.” His features looked stern and
cold as usual. “Jack didn’t want me to call you, but I knew you’d want to be
here.”
I scanned the
empty emergency room waiting area. “Where is he?”
Jean Marc gently
placed his rough, callused hand on my elbow and motioned past the waiting area
to a wide red door with “Exam Rooms” printed across it. “The doctors need to
speak to you about something they found,” he mentioned as we approached the
front desk. “They had to do blood work when he came in, Nora. They found out
his liver is in bad shape.”
I closed my eyes
and pushed down the scream that was climbing its way up my throat.
Jean Marc put
his arm around my shoulders. “They said he needs more tests. I told them you’re
in the medical field and the only family that gives a damn about him, so they
want to talk to you.” He pulled me alongside of him as we walked through the
red door to the exam rooms. “It’s all right, Nora,” he whispered to me. “I’m
right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Jean Marc’s
presence gave me courage. I found it remarkable that a man I had previously
detested insisted on being there for me. But then I reminded myself that Jean
Marc was my uncle’s friend and employer. I chalked up his dedication to nothing
more than polite concern, but the way his arm felt about my shoulders was
eliciting an entirely different response from me. I quickly shrugged off the
funny tingle in my stomach as indigestion. Over-cooked scrambled eggs, nervous
tension about my uncle, and lingering doubts about my night with John had
overloaded my system. What else could it be? I figured the unusual sensation
would soon be gone and I would have nothing to worry about. I forced the
unsettling tickle out of my mind and focused on my uncle’s situation.
* * *
The sun was just
coming up over the horizon by the time Jean Marc and I were escorting Uncle
Jack from the emergency room entrance. Uncle Jack had been given a pair of
crutches, and a splint covered his right ankle. Jean Marc walked closely beside
him, making sure he did not crash to the ground as he struggled to keep the
crutches underneath him.
“Goddamned
doctors,” Uncle Jack cursed as he hobbled to my car. “Never trust the bastards,
Nora. Always tryin’ to find problems where none exist. Killed your Aunt Elise
that way. They tested her to death.”
“Uncle Jack,
Aunt Elise died of a stroke because she didn’t take care of her high blood
pressure.” I sighed as I fumbled to get the keys from my purse. “This is
something different. You heard the doctor. You have to have further tests to
find out how bad your liver is, and you need to cut back on the drinking.”
“Non! Jamias! I
didn’t want to come here ’cept that this bon rein dragged me here.” He nodded
to Jean Marc.
“I didn’t know
how bad you had hurt yourself, Jack,” Jean Marc admitted in his reserved way.
“I had to bring you here, for liability reasons.”
“Bullshit!”
Uncle Jack barked.
“Enough!” I
shouted. “Uncle Jack, get in the car.” I pointed to the door of my Honda.
My uncle glared
at me, but he said nothing while Jean Marc opened the door for him. Uncle Jack
settled into the front seat while Jean Marc placed his crutches in the back
seat.
“Thank you for
everything,” I said to Jean
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