“Were you so oblivious that he was flirting with you, Olivia?” Charlie asks, however his voice wasn’t raised, nor was it hushed. It sounded mildly disappointed. “He kissed your hand, he winked at you!”
“Charlie-“
“He complimented you! He referred to your love song with a sparkle in his eye!”
“Charlie, there was no sparkle!”
“How are you standing up for him, Olivia?!”
“I’m not standing up for him, Charlie!” I shout back, however a Dr Cambridge walks into the hospital room, causing our bickering to stop, and our curiosity senses to start.
“You’re going home today.” Dr Cambridge states, typing some information into the computer. “You’ve got to continue taking your anti-depressants twice a day and your muscle repair tablets once a day, and we’ll do a check-up in a few weeks to see how things are going.”
I nod, looking at Charlie who was looking back at me. “I’ll see you at home, Olivia.”
“Charlie, wait…” I say, but he doesn’t listen as he (probably intentionally) slams the door. I hear Gordie and Sarah tut in unison after Sarah said “What did she do now?” while Gordie said “What did he do now?”
“And keep up the water, it’s vital for the tissue repair.” Dr Cambridge says, as if nothing happened. “And you can’t operate machinery while on your muscle repair tablets.”
“Okay.”
After another five minutes of reminders and things I can and can’t do, he leaves the room. I let out a sigh of relief as I stood up from the hospital bed and the blood rushes down my legs. Sarah walks in, a mildly pissed off look set on her face as I begin to zip up the bag that she packed for me.
“What happened?” She asks, breaking the silence of the room.
“I don’t know.” I mumble.
“Obviously you do.”
I try to zip up my duffle bag, struggling due to the fact that everything was crammed in tightly.
“Liv-“
“Did you see Ed flirting with me, Sarah?”
She shakes her head. “Not at all, why?”
“Tell that to Charlie.” I mumble, slinging the duffle bag over my right shoulder. “Can you drive me home?”
She nods, her arms crossed against her chest as we make our way out of the temporary home that housed me for seven weeks and six days, and a feeling of relief floods through me as I breathe in the fresh air.
“You hired a car from the airport, right?” I ask, trying to get our conversation away from what happened.
“Nah, I spent 30K on a car to drive around temporarily.” She sarcastically mutters, pulling out a pair of car keys from her purse.
“Sarcastic.” I mutter, slipping into the silver car. “Your parents should’ve named you Sarcastic Mulat instead of Sarah Mulat.”
“I’ll legally change my name if it helps you sleep at night.” She says, and although she is joking, there is a smidge of hostility in her voice.
The ambience was off. It wasn’t joking, nor was it murderous. It felt like I had a weight in my chest, like every word would bring the weight down even further. Not to mention I had a lump the size of Australia in my throat, that hurt every time I tried to swallow it and I felt like I was about to cry at any given moment.
