off his T-shirt and wrapped it around Yamane’s hand, dragging the anguished man with him to the phone so he could call the hotel lobby for help.
The woman turned back one final time. “Come on, you big baby, it was only the left hand.” She opened the door to the hallway, tilting her head like a bird. “Let’s do this again soon. I had fun.”
34 Z. A. Maxfield
Chapter Six
Numbness engulfed Rory and he acted without conscious thought. After phoning the front desk to apprise them of the emergency, Rory took care of Yamane. The terrible sound of his cries faded, and he steadily declined into a state of true medical shock.
Rory touched Yamane’s face, which had grown clammy. He picked the smaller man up and easily carried him to the bed, covering him with a blanket after elevating his legs. He held Yamane’s good hand, chafing it between his own to warm it.
“Look at me, Yamane,” he said, to keep the injured man from drifting into unconsciousness. “Look right at me, Yamane. I’m going to tell you all about what’s going to happen now, do you understand?” He squeezed Yamane’s uninjured hand.
“Hm?” Yamane looked dazed.
“I called the lobby, and they’re sending paramedics and the police,” he said. “Just focus on me now, okay? This is going to be a piece of cake. You probably won’t even need any stitches, and you’ll have a dashing four-pronged scar.” Rory tried to make his voice authoritative, to keep it from shaking or breaking.
“Stop crying,” Yamane ordered.
“I’m not crying,” he said, even though his tears were dripping all over Yamane’s arm.
“Then you know what you should do? You should get a tattoo, right on the back of your hand, as part of the design.” Someone was knocking on the door, and Rory left Yamane to answer it.
Rory opened the door and the paramedics rushed in. They went to work, taking Yamane’s vital signs and checking his wound. There was a tense moment when they were under the misconception that Rory stabbed him, but Yamane himself was able to set them straight. Rory put on a fresh shirt. After that, he hardly had a chance to think until an hour later when someone at the hospital brought him a cup of coffee.
Drawn Together
35
“I’m Detective Jenks,” the man said. “That was a pretty awful, wasn’t it? Yamane’s still in emergency, but he’ll probably be treated and released today.”
“I see.” Rory took the offered coffee.
“Have you known him long” -- he looked at his notepad -- “Mr. Delaplaines?”
“No, I just met him yesterday.” He took a drink of his coffee and made a terrible face.
The detective laughed. “The coffee here is swill, isn’t it? He had your name written on his arm.”
“Still? He just took a shower. Well…” He looked at his own arm. Besides Yamane’s room number written in Sharpie marker, it was spotted with blood. “I need a shower too.”
“Son, I know this is hard, but do you think you could describe the person who did this?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think you’ll need me to do that. Yamane knows who it was. They spoke as if they knew one another. He said he thought she’d still be in Seattle. She talked like…as if they’d done this before.”
“What, you mean like a prior relationship? Old love gone wrong?” the detective asked.
“I doubt it. But she seemed to indicate that. She talked about borderline personality disorder. It all sounded so crazy and dark. When she stabbed him, I was just a second too late. I should have grabbed her. I could have knocked her unconscious or something, but Yamane was screaming. I’ve never heard anything like that…” The detective’s phone beeped. “Shoot, I have to find out what this is. I’m going to go outside. You’ll still be here?”
“I’m going nowhere until I know Yamane is all right.”
“Me neither, son.” Detective Jenks left Rory in the waiting room. Rory tried to read the outdated magazines. Just when he got interested
The woman turned back one final time. “Come on, you big baby, it was only the left hand.” She opened the door to the hallway, tilting her head like a bird. “Let’s do this again soon. I had fun.”
34 Z. A. Maxfield
Chapter Six
Numbness engulfed Rory and he acted without conscious thought. After phoning the front desk to apprise them of the emergency, Rory took care of Yamane. The terrible sound of his cries faded, and he steadily declined into a state of true medical shock.
Rory touched Yamane’s face, which had grown clammy. He picked the smaller man up and easily carried him to the bed, covering him with a blanket after elevating his legs. He held Yamane’s good hand, chafing it between his own to warm it.
“Look at me, Yamane,” he said, to keep the injured man from drifting into unconsciousness. “Look right at me, Yamane. I’m going to tell you all about what’s going to happen now, do you understand?” He squeezed Yamane’s uninjured hand.
“Hm?” Yamane looked dazed.
“I called the lobby, and they’re sending paramedics and the police,” he said. “Just focus on me now, okay? This is going to be a piece of cake. You probably won’t even need any stitches, and you’ll have a dashing four-pronged scar.” Rory tried to make his voice authoritative, to keep it from shaking or breaking.
“Stop crying,” Yamane ordered.
“I’m not crying,” he said, even though his tears were dripping all over Yamane’s arm.
“Then you know what you should do? You should get a tattoo, right on the back of your hand, as part of the design.” Someone was knocking on the door, and Rory left Yamane to answer it.
Rory opened the door and the paramedics rushed in. They went to work, taking Yamane’s vital signs and checking his wound. There was a tense moment when they were under the misconception that Rory stabbed him, but Yamane himself was able to set them straight. Rory put on a fresh shirt. After that, he hardly had a chance to think until an hour later when someone at the hospital brought him a cup of coffee.
Drawn Together
35
“I’m Detective Jenks,” the man said. “That was a pretty awful, wasn’t it? Yamane’s still in emergency, but he’ll probably be treated and released today.”
“I see.” Rory took the offered coffee.
“Have you known him long” -- he looked at his notepad -- “Mr. Delaplaines?”
“No, I just met him yesterday.” He took a drink of his coffee and made a terrible face.
The detective laughed. “The coffee here is swill, isn’t it? He had your name written on his arm.”
“Still? He just took a shower. Well…” He looked at his own arm. Besides Yamane’s room number written in Sharpie marker, it was spotted with blood. “I need a shower too.”
“Son, I know this is hard, but do you think you could describe the person who did this?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think you’ll need me to do that. Yamane knows who it was. They spoke as if they knew one another. He said he thought she’d still be in Seattle. She talked like…as if they’d done this before.”
“What, you mean like a prior relationship? Old love gone wrong?” the detective asked.
“I doubt it. But she seemed to indicate that. She talked about borderline personality disorder. It all sounded so crazy and dark. When she stabbed him, I was just a second too late. I should have grabbed her. I could have knocked her unconscious or something, but Yamane was screaming. I’ve never heard anything like that…” The detective’s phone beeped. “Shoot, I have to find out what this is. I’m going to go outside. You’ll still be here?”
“I’m going nowhere until I know Yamane is all right.”
“Me neither, son.” Detective Jenks left Rory in the waiting room. Rory tried to read the outdated magazines. Just when he got interested
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