What You Give

1/L

"As all historians know, the past is a great darkness, and filled with echoes."

~Margaret Atwood~

***

I jamb the elevator button so hard my thumb feels blistered. It’s early; I’m not even supposed to come in today. C’mon, c’mon. I hate this elevator, it’s old and slow and noisy as hell. The cold box finally creaks to a halt at the fifth floor; I step out and nearly run into Mac fast-walking past me.

“Lue? Why are you… Oh yeah. Yeah he’s in 06.” He gives me a somber expression, and I fake one back and thank him before turning to search for Dad’s room. I literally only have to walk ten feet to get there, and in the process of doing so I manage to be stopped by three nurses asking why I am here. Yes, I know I am not on right now; no, I am not here to help you out. Geez, give it a rest.

I knock a little too loud before letting myself in his room. He was asleep, I assume, but at the sound of me entering his eyes shoot open and he looks slightly panicked before realizing it’s only me. For whatever reason, I ease his nerves.

“Luckyyy,” he smiles. “What… Why are you here?” Why do people keep asking me that?

“I guess I am your emergency contact.” Why? Like… why? Why would he want me contacted if he was in an emergency?

“Oh. Right.” He sounds tired, breathless, and I use the moment of silence to take in his appearance. His arm is in a sling, his left leg is wrapped in gauze from about the mid-thigh to his ankle, and his face is scabbed in a few places. He honestly doesn’t look that bad; I don’t know why he’s being so pitiful. Dr. Wright said on the phone that he only had a second degree burn in one spot on his leg, the rest are first degree. I sound insensitive but it’s not like I haven’t seen worse before; I know I’ve seen him look worse than this.

“So… they should be letting you out in a few hours.”

“Yeah that’s what White said. I called the station to let them know I’d be in later today.”

“You what? Dad, no.” Idiot. He’s an idiot.

“Lucky I am fine. I am trained for this sort of thing.” He sounds drowsy and loopy, like he’s struggling to get his brain to send words to his mouth.

“How many drugs have you taken today? You have burns, your eyes can’t even focus on me; I mean, seriously, Dad you are not in stable condition. Your name is the only reason they aren’t keeping you for another three days, minimum.” I cross my arms in annoyance. “I know what I am talking about, don’t try to argue this point with me.”

“I bribed the nurse for a little extra,” his smirk is sickening and if I didn’t think it’d get me fired I’d smack his burned leg so hard, he’d start crying. The idea actually sounds more inviting and exciting with each passing second.

His ignoring of my demands earns an eye roll from me, and I state firmly, “You’re not going to work today, that’s final.”

Something clicks in my father’s head and he realizes I’m serious. Good. “Lucky I don’t think –“

Dr. White enters the room, ending our conversation. Thank God. “How are you feeling, Jim?”

“Officer Rossum is just fine.” Even in his flustered state, Jim Rossum remembers to be an asshole. It’s almost impressive. Dr. White quickly apologizes, but my father waves it off. “I am – I am feeling fine, perfectly… satisfactory.” He stops himself mid-sentence to lower his voice and avoids my gaze; Oh no. I’ve made him angry. How horrible.