Stella and the Boxer

Chapter 46

We leave for the hospital after midnight, and it’s nearly three when a nurse finally finds Mark and me in the waiting room.  

During our wait, we took turns pacing, while the other sat in one of the ugly green chairs, staring blankly at the cold, tile floors. All that we had to listen to was the other’s footsteps mixed with the hum of the television that seemed to be speaking to itself in the corner of the room – which was more of a hallway, really.

We barely spoke. Most of what we did say was nervous chatter – hardly memorable. The exception to that was an apology, made my Mark, for having put Charlie in danger in the first place, on the night of his original injury.

“I look at Charlie like a son,” he said, “I should have protected him like one. Then again, look at how I treat my own son.” He rubbed his chin and started to pace again, but stops after just two slow steps. “I was so glad when he started hanging around you. He finally had someone to be close to. Now you have to deal with all of this, because of me.

“Charlie would never get into a situation like that unless he was trying to protect someone. It’s my fault. It’s always my fault. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think of this as any kind of burden. I want him safe, of course. But I’m lucky to know someone who is willing to protect people, like he is.”

I turn in my seat as the nurse approaches, gripping the armrest. I feel too tired to speak, to even ask for the news that I’ve been waiting for. She must notice the bags under my eyes, or the lack of color in my skin, or the way that my curls better qualify as tangles, because she offers me a sympathetic smile and begins to speak.

“Charlie’s fine now. He has a serious infection. It originated from the puncture wound. We’ve gotten his fever down, and given him medicine to begin to treat the infection. He’s no longer nauseous, but he’s very tired. He is already asleep and will likely sleep through the night.”

I sigh, but rather than feel relief flood over me, all of my nerves wash away and leave only the feeling of pure and total exhaustion.

I stand form my seat and look to Mark.

“I know he wants you to stay with him, but he told me to try to coax you back to the hotel so you could sleep better. Should I even bother?”

“No,” I smile, “I’ll just see you in the morning. Thank you for coming with us.”

“Of course.”

He nods to me, and then to the nurse, who waves for me to follow in the direction of Charlie’s room.

As before, Charlie’s size is at odds with the hospital bed. But he looks blissfully comfortable, nonetheless.

The bed is not fully reclined, leaving him sitting up slightly in his sleep. He looks as if he fell asleep rather suddenly. His hands are clasped in his lap, and he faces almost entirely ahead, his head falling to the side only slightly.

“He thought he could stay awake,” the nurse says before leaving me, “He wasn’t sure if you’d stayed.”

She asks me if I need anything, to which I shake my head and thank her. She smiles as she turns down the hall. I assess what I have to sleep on: a small sofa, which is likely a pullout. But I don’t plan to find out. I go to Charlie’s bedside and kiss his forehead before padding tiredly to the sofa and trying to find a position that is both conducive to sleep and leaves my body touching as little of the small couch as possible.

I settle with crossing my legs, propping my elbow against the armrest and leaning my cheek against my hand. When it becomes unbearable, I settle for my arm being folded against the armrest to support my head and move my legs onto the sofa, trying to forget my cleanliness-woes.