✓ | 3. soldier, soldier, spy [STEVE HARRINGTON]

five.

CHAPTER FIVE:
RECOVERY

[ THE MALL RATS ]

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"Well, you certainly seem fine." The nurse tucked her heart rate monitor into the large front pocket of her purple scrubs, then grabbed the clipboard she'd rested on the table beside the three of them. "Do you feel okay, Thomas?"

He felt tired and his hand hurt from how hard Joyce was gripping it, but other than that he felt okay. Like the events of that evening hadn't even happened. "Yes."

She scratched something. Looked at him from under curly brown hair and through her glasses, black and thickly rimmed, unlike his silver frames. Her eyes were keen over her black clipboard. Her nails were shiny, hand ringless. "Ever fainted before?"

He didn't faint, he wanted to say. You're not helping. You have no idea what's wrong with me — no idea what you're talking about. "I don't remember. Maybe," was what he said instead, shrugging passively and staring into blank, white space.

Joyce squeezed his hand; her arm was outstretched in order to reach, as both of his hands were in his lap, but she hadn't moved her grip in the last twenty minutes.

        "Okay, well, there's always a first time for everything," the nurse chirped. "You haven't hit your head, so you should be fine. Just drink lots of water and take it easy for a few days. If you're feeling nauseous, getting lots of headaches, feeling dizzy, or faint again... Make sure you report it." She looked partly at Joyce when she said this, and Joyce nodded instantly already muttering her promises to do so. "Are you sure you haven't experienced any headaches, dizzy spells, before or after the incident? It's normal for people who faint to feel those sorts of things..."

He didn't faint.

"Er.. Maybe. I thought I just needed water. The heat..." Thomas lied.

"Well, it could even be those that lead to you fainting. Heat stroke, possibly. Guessing is kind of a hit or miss sometimes. Just relax for a few days, like I said. Lots of water, lots of sunblock, lots of shade. Got it?" She was smiling. Joking with him.

Strangers still made him nervous — especially doctors — and Thomas only just managed a smile.

"Well. If you're feeling up for it, I think you're good to go. Remember, don't hesitate to come back at the first sign of trouble."

           Thomas tried to stand, but Joyce's hand didn't move from his lap and kept him in the rigid plastic chair of the nurse's interview room. It was a small, blank room: a desk, her chair, two other seats in which Thomas and Joyce sat, a few posters on hygiene, personal photos, her diploma framed on the wall behind her head.