The Side Effects of Marriage

Chapter 23

Hayden's eyes fluttered open. He groaned at the sound of beeping, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the bright light streaming into the room. Something–someone–touched his arm.

"Layla, can you..."

"I'm not Layla, Mr. Song. My name is Renee Jacobs and I'm your doctor." The woman who slowly came into view when his eyes fully opened was middle-aged, dark-skinned, with curls pinned back into a tight bun. "You're in the hospital. Do you remember what happened to you?"

He tried to cover his eyes, to block out the light. The movement hurt too much for him to even contemplate raising his left arm an inch off of the bed. He licked his parched lips. "Why am I here?"

"I'll take that as a no, then." Dr. Jacobs checked something on a clipboard. "If you'd like to hear it straight from your chart, you were admitted to the hospital last night for severe third-degree burns on your chest in the middle of a citywide blackout. Fortunately, we had backup generators running and we were able to treat you."

His brows furrowed. There was something important... Something he was forgetting...

"Lie down, Mr Song." Dr. Jacobs's tone was forbidding, daring anyone to defy her. "In case you've forgotten, you're lucky you're even alive from the look of these burns."

"My mother's... wedding..." He gasped, managing to eke out the words through his pain. "It's tonight..."

"I wasn't able to contact your next of kin," she said. "I called their phone, but they didn't pick up. Must be because of that blackout."

He frowned. Layla. That was good, wasn't it? He didn't want her to worry about him. "Yes..."

"Would you like us to contact anyone for you? Your partner, perhaps?" Dr. Jacobs prompted.

"No, that's okay..." He let out a strained groan when he tried to move his arm to brush the hair out of his face. He glanced down at his chest: along with his left shoulder, it was swathed in bandages. "How soon can I be out of here?"

"How about you just focus on getting better for now?" she said, in a tone that told him it was anything but a suggestion.

He sighed. "Yes, doctor."

"That's what I like to hear. We'll be changing your bandages every hour. You should be good to go in a few weeks, as infection hasn't set in so far." She checked her clipboard again, scribbling something down. "Take it easy, please. I don't want to come back in an hour and see you trying to leave."

"May I make a phone call, Dr. Jacobs?" he said.

She pursed her lips before picking up the cordless phone on the table behind her and dialing a few buttons, then passing it to him. "Make it quick."

"I will," he said, his fingers pressing the familiar keys before stilling on the last digit. Layla wasn't the one he was calling. Maybe she should have been, but he wasn't so sure, right now, that he wanted to see her. He redialed, pressing the keys for a different number. "Frank, it's Hayden."

"I've been trying to reach you all morning," Frank said, his voice agitated and tight. "We have a situation."

"All morning?" he repeated, before his gaze latched onto a nondescript clock on the wall. It was nearly eleven. "I've been in the hospital. What's up?"

"Oh, I don't know, a city-wide blackout that makes the president look God-awful. Not to mention a spate of stabbings, riotings, shootings, and even more gang violence that happened last night."

"What was to blame for the blackout?" he said, propping himself up on his pillows.

"Wait, you're in the hospital?" Frank said, as if his brain had only just caught up, a record scratching. "What for?"