Regretful Love

Chapter Twelve

                  

Pulling himself back out of sleep, Kell realised that the ambulance had stopped, the doors were open, and the girl was gone. For a moment or two, he enjoyed the crisp smell of the clean air before the paramedic appeared to help him out into a wheelchair. He noticed that his pack was in the ambulance too, and the medic grabbed it as they left, and he was grateful though he hadn't seen it loaded on. Maybe the girl had brought it with her.

Outside, he found himself in a parking lot, but could see the mountains, and a stretch of grass that wound around the sides of a low, one-storied building with a slightly sloping roof and long, wide windows.

"Nice digs, right?" said the paramedic, kicking a footbrake and pushing the chair into motion. "It's lovely around here."

Again, Kell couldn't help but wonder at the normality of things like this. He was essentially coming here to die, and yet could appreciate that it was really a lovely place. If he had to choose, he supposed, then a place like this would be all right. He'd been in worse places. Better than dying in the dirty, stained crack house that he'd been in.

He was wheeled inside and met by an efficient receptionist, dressed in white with comfortable-looking shoes and an immense bosom barely contained by her uniform. Nestling between her breasts he saw a small, slim, gold cross. If he'd been wondering how the hell a poor, ex-addict had ended up in a place as fine as this, he would have realised that he had help.

"Ah, Kell," said the woman. "We've heard a lot about you."

"Have you?" he asked, frowning a bit.

"Sure. Father Conner called from the mission and said you'd be joining us. He might be making it down for a visit too, so we'll have to get you looking your best."

All the time she was talking, she was signing off on his paperwork and handing it back to the paramedic, who grinned and bade Kell goodbye. Kell realised that someone had gone through his pack. Someone had found his Bible, with its mission address label, and given there was no other kind of contact details in there, that person had come to the conclusion that he or she should call and find out just who this dying man was. Maybe the girl had done it; he didn't know. In a way, he was kind of glad. Glad that he had the safety, after so long, of someone else looking out for him.

"Let's show you to your room," said the receptionist, walking behind him to start to push. "It's not so bad here, and just right now you've got no roommate, so you'll have the place to yourself. Food's good and can be brought to you. But if you're feeling up to it, maybe you can come on over and eat with the other residents. We've got TV and bingo and all kinds of other things going on, and mass on Sundays and Wednesdays, of course. And then..."

She went on and on until the words all kind of ran together and Kell was left feeling overwhelmed. He'd been outside of the system for so long at this point that he'd kind of forgotten how organised everything had to be. He found himself tuning out until he was pushed into a small room furnished with two single hospital beds. Despite the equipment, the room was warm and friendly, comfortable even, with pictures on the wall and a big window looking out onto the yard behind and the sky and the mountains. She was right; it wasn't so bad here.

"Now, Kell, can you get yourself into bed here, or would you like a little help?"

After resting and having a constant infusion of pain-killing liquid for so long, Kell was feeling pretty spry all in all, so he decided to take care of his own stuff. Might as well get a bit of practice in, he figured, and it went pretty well. He needed to sit down to pull his pants off, but other than that, he was able to undress and get into bed more or less like normal. The receptionist reappeared and was apparently also a nurse, since she reattached his drip, and then all was fine and dandy.