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Chapter 5: D for Doctor

One.

Two.

Three.

Four times it took to blink away the grogginess, when I had finally awoken one day later.

My head was one billion pounds of thudding pain and weight; so heavy, in fact, that I couldn't lift it from the pillow without biting my lip in blinding pain. I began to test out my fingers one by one, curling them until I regained both strength and complete feeling back in all ten. I did the same with my toes.

I shifted uncomfortbaly on the crunchy, white sheets of a lemon-scented bed, feeling so useless lying here. I tried to use my elbows as a leverage to push myself up, but failed, and muttered a choked- "Shit," before falling pathetically back to the pillow. I closed my eyes to the fluorescent lighting and white ceiling tiles, listening to the slow and steady beeping of the all-too familiar heart rate monitor pushed to the side of the metal-railed bed.

"Hey," A voice muttered, tired and cracking from having just awoken. A large hand gripped my shoulder, and I opened my eyes to look at the figure curled on a straight-backed purple chair beside me. "You feeling okay?"

I sniffled, and shook my head, but the pain was too much and I squirmed where I lyed. "God no-" I gasped, struggling to hold back the tears.

"It will get better." Dad tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace, and ended with a long, open-mouthed yawn. "I guess I'll leave and try to find the Doctor."

I opened my mouth to say something, and he must have noticed because he still stood by my bedside, looking down at me with eyes of concern.

"Jacoby," I hesitated. His eyebrows quirked up, and I fiddled with the edge of the crisp white sheet. "Do you know, what happened? Or where he went?"

He sighed, giving me a knowing smile. "I'm afraid not. When I got to the restaurant, he was already gone. Sorry, sweetheart."

I shrugged, casting my eyes to my heart rate monitor. "It's fine. Just curious, I guess."

I felt his eyes on me, and they begged for my attention. I curled my fingers into a nervous fist on the bed, and reluctantly gave in. I looked up to him, and when I did, he situated himself on the middle of the bed, placing his hands awkwardly in his lap.

"Don't be so bummed out. Not the first boy you meet will be the one-"

"Dad!" I yelped, swatting his shoulder and shaking my head. "It's, it's not like that! We're friends, and strictly that." I emphasized.

He rolled his eyes, disbelieving, and slowly started to smile. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, child."

It was my turn to roll my eyes at his stupid nickname, but I couldn't help but smile. Because for once, this was a conversation where Dad and I weren't screaming at the other. And I kind of liked it.

"I'm going to tell you a story," He decided, "Bet you will sit there on your broken ass and listen to the full thing, ya hear?"

I snorted, and ran a hand through my clumps of knotted hair. "Not like I have much of a choice."

"Shhh!" He pushed, "What did I say?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just get on with your stupid story." I mumbled.

He smiled, and looked down as he began to repeat just a small remnant of his history.

"Well. I knew your mother some time before she met me..." His sad smile dripped into a sad frown, but he pushed forward. "I guess you can say that I had a major crush on her during our senior year of high school, but who wouldn't? She was beautiful, like you Gable," I internally groaned, but I didn't say anything.