Belle's Story

Chapter Ten

A nurse was changing Belle's IV bag when I got to the hospital. As soon as she left Belle turned to me.

"So, What do you think of my surroundings?" Belle pushed her hand in a sweeping 360 degree motion.

I looked around. It looked like just one of many depressing hospital rooms. There was a bed in the room's center and a reclining chair in one corner. A small wooden chair sat by the bed, The rest of the furniture had LED displays and tubes connected to Belle's thin wrists. Every so often one of the machines would burp or beep. The room's saving grace was a large window on the southern end of the room. The sun was hitting it just right this morning, I imagined its sill would be filled with flowers before the night was out. I sat down on the wooden chair.

"The room's nice, Belle. Are they making you comfortable?"

"Oh, I'm fine. But I am terribly bored."

A nurse's aide came into the room and interrupted our conversation. The girl took Belle's pulse, blood pressure and temperature. Her blood pressure was low, 55/90. Shortly after that, the nurse came back in to give Belle a shot in her belly. She told us it was to prevent blood clots. I asked her if I should be concerned about the low blood pressure. She assured me that this was not abnormal for someone of Belle's age and condition. This was not the most comforting explanation, but it was all I was going to get. When she left the room, I looked at Belle; she looked tired. Outside the shadows were getting long. We hadn't made any progress with Belle's adventure, but I did not want to make her health any worse. I was tired too. I gave Belle a kiss on the cheek and told her I would be back in the morning.

After leaving Belle's hospital room, I headed for her apartment. Despite my efforts from the previous day, the place was still filthy, and it was dark, but it was where I wanted to be. I stopped at a linen store on the way home and bought a cheap set of sheets and a blanket. Then, I went to the drug store to buy rug shampoo and deodorizer. The apartment held the rotting smell of dried vomit. I scrubbed the rug for thirty minutes and sprayed a half a can of deodorizer on it. The vomit somehow blended with the pattern on the rug and it was difficult to tell if I had removed all of the leftovers. I studied the rug for a few seconds and decided it was good enough. Had it been mine, I probably would have just rolled in up and thrown it in a dumpster behind the building.

After cleaning the rug, I showered, changed and walked to the Indian restaurant down the street. I pulled out the brick in my purse - something new called a mobile phone - and called Ben from the restaurant.

"Hey."

"How was your day?"

"Long, how was yours?"

"It was okay; I wondered how you were doing. Did you call your uncle?"

"No. I'm gonna call him tonight." I took a bite of some aloo gobi, trying not to chew into the phone. "Do you really think calling my uncle is going to change anything?" I took another forkful of food.

"I don't know. He is your uncle and kind of has a right to know what's going on."

"Yeah, I know that. I'm just not looking forward to talking to him. He's so checked out."

I'd finished eating. I loved Indian food but I can only eat about a quarter of it before feeling stuffed. The waiter brought me a go box for my breakfast in the morning.

"Tell me about Chicago," I said wanting very much to change the subject.

"The Bulls are playing tonight."

"Yippee". I sounded more sarcastic than Ben deserved. Anything else?

"Hey, don't knock the Bulls. Michael Jordan's the best basketball player of all time and the Bulls are the best NBA team I can remember seeing."