You call this fate?

Chapter 11

When the doctor and his wife finally vacated their sanctum after about a half hour, they found Howard and me sitting silently in the living room, as if holding a vigil over the dead. I was curled up at one end of the sofa, wrapped in an afghan I had pulled from the back, while Howard sat leaning against the back of his armchair, counting spider webs on the ceiling. He had asked me some time ago, his voice ringing slightly after the long silence, if I would like something to eat, but I had refused. Eating was probably the last thing on my mind then.

Dr Williams looked exhausted. His brow was shiny with sweat and his cheeks were flushed. His eyes looked vacant and hollow, like the soul that had been inside had just realized it had seen enough horrors to last a life time and left on vacation. His hair wasn’t quite like a halo anymore. Instead it lay plastered to his forehead, resembling the pelt of a dead animal.

His wife was in a similar state. The sleeves of her ‘unicorns rule’ sweater were rolled up till her elbows. The sweater didn’t look as cheerful as it had when she had opened the door. The unicorns had probably long since galloped away.

I shot off the sofa like a cork when I saw them, only just remembering that I couldn’t walk. Grabbing my crutches, I hurried over. Howard looked down from the high heavens with interest.

“How is she?” I asked, not giving them a chance to even breath. “Is she going to be okay? Is she going to die? Can I see her? Is she asleep? Is her nose fixed? Why aren’t you answering my questions?”

The doctor rubbed at his eyes so hard I had to wonder why they hadn’t popped out by now. “Please girl, slow down, will you?” He looked up. “I just ne—“ Something akin to something came back into his eyes. “What happened to your head?”

“I will not slow down. I need to see my friend an—“

“What happened to your head, girl?” He narrowed his eyes and extended his hand towards the said part of my body.

“Hey!” I said, swatting at him, holding onto my good crutch for dear life. “What do you think you’re doing? There is nothing wrong with my head. Now—“

“Your head is bleeding. Let me have a look at it.” He reached for me again.

“No,” I said. “My head is fine. Please tell me about my friend.”

“Okay,” the doctor huffed, looking down at me. “How about I tell you about your friend while you let me look at your head? Seem fair to you?”

I thought about it for a moment. And then I nodded. Seemed fair alright. And this way, if he decided not to reply, I could easily swipe the hammer from the his bag close by and check his reflexes.

“Jenny, honey, why don’t you get us something to eat while I take a look at this? I think this girl—“

“Zara,” I supplied.

“I think Zara could really do with something in her stomach right now. Did you eat anything at all tonight?”

“I… Well no,” I confessed, keeping my head high to make sure he didn't think I was backing down.

“I will get something immediately,” Jenny assured us, her voice sounding almost foreign with all the perkiness lost. And I had heard her speak only once. “Howard, come with me and help me while your father looks at her.”

Howard grunted as he got off the chair, his joints cracking in protest. He stretched his arms and legs before following his mother in the direction of the kitchen, looking for all the world like a hulking monster about to devour her whole. Except, of course, for the endearing cowlick posing away on the top of his head.