belly, and a moon face that petered out in a succession of roly-poly chins. His expression was blissfully vacant, his eyes seemingly looking in completely different directions. More peculiar yet was his walk, a stiff-legged, waddling gait that pitched his entire body from side to side, his sandals slapping against oedematous feet with every step. “Once!” he announced brightly, “I caught a fish alive!”
Carla exhaled slowly. Perhaps the husband would be more amenable to reason. He did, at least, look less antagonised than his wife. She went to meet him at the door. He beamed at her as she approached. “Why. Did. You let. It go?” His voice was thickly rhythmical, like his walk.
Carla chose to ignore the rhetorical question, trying instead to reassure him about his son’s state of comparative health, her voice rising as his attention seemed rapidly to drift. He resumed his listing progress towards the boy’s bed. “Because”, he burbled “it bit my finger so! Ahhhhh! Which finger did it bite?” He grabbed Gary’s mutilated hand, eliciting a yelp of pain. “ This little finger on. My. Right!” Chortling happily, he began pulling Gary towards the door.
Knowing better than to resist, Gary shuffled quietly alongside him, and, knowing better now than to stand directly in Mrs Taub’s way, Carla tried one last time to persuade them to stay. “Look, I’d be happy to address any concerns you have! We can arrange for you stay here with Gary! He’s going to need more painkillers, at least let us give you some to take home with you!”
Mrs Taub turned around as they reached the door and jabbed her index finger hard into Carla’s sternum. “Stay away!” she hissed, staring at Carla for long seconds and then striding off after her husband and son.
Carla exhaled slowly. Her heartbeat began to slow as the threat of violence receded. She was annoyed that it had accelerated at all. Annoyed to admit that she had been intimidated. In a hospital as well, an environment she had always regarded as her home turf. She rejoined Dr Khalil at the nurse’s station. He had a file in his hands, but over the top of his glasses he was watching the Taubs lumber back down the corridor towards the elevators, Mr Taub’s absurd, wallowing saunter casting spastic shadows on the wall.
“Unbelievable!” said Carla, angrily. “I can’t believe they’re just swanning out of here with him! As if we’re interfering by stopping him from sawing off his own fingers!”
“Well,” offered Khalil, putting his file down, “I don’t know about `swanning’. The swan is a graceful animal, whereas that ...” He nodded after the family.
“He confirmed it was suicide you know. The Ramsgates and the girls. He confirmed that they drove off the road on purpose. He says he wanted to go with them. There you go, that’s suicidal ideation! We can hold him!”
Dr Khalil put up a hand wearily. “We cannot detain him. I can tell you now, the hospital will not sanction it. They have had legal problems with the Innsmouth church before. It cost them a lot of money. If we were to detain him, he’d be released with one phone call from their minister.”
Carla rounded on him. “The church ? I’m sorry, do we take medical instruction from them now? What the hell does it matter what they think?”
“I know, it is unfortunate. The hospital though is `once bitten, twice shy’. There was an issue with a termination performed on an Innsmouth girl. The church got her to retract her consent, claimed it was done without her permission, made all kinds of noise about sectarian persecution – they are aggressively litigious in their dealings with outsiders. The hospital now prefers to leave them alone.”
“Oh, this is ridiculous” fumed Carla. “Which church, anyway? That warehouse near where
Carla exhaled slowly. Perhaps the husband would be more amenable to reason. He did, at least, look less antagonised than his wife. She went to meet him at the door. He beamed at her as she approached. “Why. Did. You let. It go?” His voice was thickly rhythmical, like his walk.
Carla chose to ignore the rhetorical question, trying instead to reassure him about his son’s state of comparative health, her voice rising as his attention seemed rapidly to drift. He resumed his listing progress towards the boy’s bed. “Because”, he burbled “it bit my finger so! Ahhhhh! Which finger did it bite?” He grabbed Gary’s mutilated hand, eliciting a yelp of pain. “ This little finger on. My. Right!” Chortling happily, he began pulling Gary towards the door.
Knowing better than to resist, Gary shuffled quietly alongside him, and, knowing better now than to stand directly in Mrs Taub’s way, Carla tried one last time to persuade them to stay. “Look, I’d be happy to address any concerns you have! We can arrange for you stay here with Gary! He’s going to need more painkillers, at least let us give you some to take home with you!”
Mrs Taub turned around as they reached the door and jabbed her index finger hard into Carla’s sternum. “Stay away!” she hissed, staring at Carla for long seconds and then striding off after her husband and son.
Carla exhaled slowly. Her heartbeat began to slow as the threat of violence receded. She was annoyed that it had accelerated at all. Annoyed to admit that she had been intimidated. In a hospital as well, an environment she had always regarded as her home turf. She rejoined Dr Khalil at the nurse’s station. He had a file in his hands, but over the top of his glasses he was watching the Taubs lumber back down the corridor towards the elevators, Mr Taub’s absurd, wallowing saunter casting spastic shadows on the wall.
“Unbelievable!” said Carla, angrily. “I can’t believe they’re just swanning out of here with him! As if we’re interfering by stopping him from sawing off his own fingers!”
“Well,” offered Khalil, putting his file down, “I don’t know about `swanning’. The swan is a graceful animal, whereas that ...” He nodded after the family.
“He confirmed it was suicide you know. The Ramsgates and the girls. He confirmed that they drove off the road on purpose. He says he wanted to go with them. There you go, that’s suicidal ideation! We can hold him!”
Dr Khalil put up a hand wearily. “We cannot detain him. I can tell you now, the hospital will not sanction it. They have had legal problems with the Innsmouth church before. It cost them a lot of money. If we were to detain him, he’d be released with one phone call from their minister.”
Carla rounded on him. “The church ? I’m sorry, do we take medical instruction from them now? What the hell does it matter what they think?”
“I know, it is unfortunate. The hospital though is `once bitten, twice shy’. There was an issue with a termination performed on an Innsmouth girl. The church got her to retract her consent, claimed it was done without her permission, made all kinds of noise about sectarian persecution – they are aggressively litigious in their dealings with outsiders. The hospital now prefers to leave them alone.”
“Oh, this is ridiculous” fumed Carla. “Which church, anyway? That warehouse near where
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