Fatal Connections

Chapter 21

The nurse assured me that I'd suffered only a mild concussion, but not quite mild enough to keep them from wanting to hold me for 24 hours. My mother must have given the go-ahead on that while I was out cold.

I silently berated myself for not replacing her name in my emergency contacts with Nick's or anyone else's. A few years had passed since we had even been in the same room. As always, Mother was dressed as if she were about to board the QE2 and have tea with the captain. I noted with mild astonishment that she had changed her hairstyle. She wore it a touch longer and closer to this century.

"What about after she's released?" my mother pressed the nurse. "Shouldn't she stay with someone?"

"The doctor will be with you in a few minutes," the nurse told my mother. "She'll give you more specific instructions."

"Hi," I said. The two of them turned toward me, and I waved. "Patient here. Alert and awake." Ignore my mother, I wanted to add. I knew what she was aiming for. Staying with my parents. So not an option.

My mother put on her patented tragic expression. "I'm just trying to help," she said, her tone bordering on outright weeping.

"I should go. The doctor will be here soon," the nurse said hurriedly as she rushed out of the room.

My mother scowled. Her voice went from Hallmark Movie Mom to drill sergeant. "Erica Lee. I swear to God, you're going to be the death of me. Can't you at least settle down and get a normal job? Work in an office? Get a decent haircut?"

I tried not to grit my teeth. My mother's voice all by itself was enough to mess with my head.

"I tried that, Mother. Remember how well that worked out?" It hadn't, of course. "Or don't you remember?" I matched her drill sergeant rant with all the sarcasm I could muster.

My mother shook her head. "I realize this is a difficult situation for you, Erica. For all of us. But this is your health we're talking about."

"Exactly. My health. My decisions." My head throbbed again, so I took a deep breath. And then another. "You forget that I've been through worse. And besides, it's not like I don't have friends." Not many, but at least a few.

Her stern look softened a bit. I almost felt sorry for her, but given her penchant for emotionally manipulating me, that was asking a lot.

"I gave up my mani-pedi for this," she moaned. I swear she sounded like her best friend had died. We might not have talked in a while, but I could still read my mother like a book.

There were three short raps on the door, and a woman in a white coat stepped into the room. The doctor was petite and small-boned, with dark hair cropped short, a milk chocolate complexion, and a purposeful look on her face. She glanced at her clipboard as she came toward me.

"Ms. Jensen. Erica?" She looked up from her clipboard and said, "I'm Dr. Sharma. How are you feeling?"

"Not bad, considering," I lied. The headache I had when I came in was gone, but my mother was giving me a new one.

"Could you do me a big favor?"

Dr. Sharma cocked her head. "Perhaps, depending . . . ."

I nodded toward my mother. "Get that woman the hell out of this room," I said, managing not to scream.

With a bit of persuasion from Dr. Sharma (and help from hospital security), Mommy Dearest left the room. Without the aggravation caused by her mere presence, I started to feel better right away.

The doctor did a basic examination. Asking what year it was, testing my reflexes, checking my orientation in all spheres, the usual head injury drill. I'm pretty sure I passed.

"We were a bit concerned given the reasons for your military discharge," Dr. Sharma confided. "But you seem to be doing well enough that an overnight stay should be sufficient."

"I'm feeling a lot better. Really." Given how bad I'd felt earlier, that wasn't saying much.

The doctor grinned. Her teeth were blinding white, but her brown eyes were soft. "Very good. I'll be by tomorrow morning." Before she turned to leave the room, her smile faded into the neutral expression of a professional.

Alone at last. Just then, it occurred to me that the room was a single. Mother had probably seen to that. I didn't bother to think anything more about it. I was too busy wondering how Nick had fared in his talk with the police.