For the Love of a Guardian
4
The doctor studied her for a moment longer before straightening, jotting something down in her file. He lifted his head to study her again, then pushed the nurse call button on the side of the bed rail.
A voice squeaked out. "Yes, Dr. Spangler?"
"Bring Mrs. Daniels her pain medication now."
The man who looked eerily like Goku punched the button again, turning it off. "So, my name is Dr. Spangler, and as you can see, I'm your doctor. Now" he began, pulling on some white surgeon gloves, "how is your pain right now?"
The nurse walked in, setting a small clear cup with two tablets next to the bed, along with a Styrofoam cup full of water. She stood at the edge of the bed while the doctor checked Trista's ribs, and shined a light into her eyes, apparently checking for any signs of brain trauma.
"My side hurts, but other than that," Trista shrugged, still a little freaked out at the face of her doctor. Her gaze never left him as he straightened, narrowing his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak. Another nurse popped her head in.
"Sorry to bother, but we need Nurse Diane in room 205. We're having difficulty moving the patient."
Dr. Spangler nodded his head, telling the nurse it was okay. They watched the two leave, the door left ajar as they hurried out. The doctor studied the door for a moment before turning back to her. She continued to stare at him.
He cleared his throat. "What was it that you called me a few minutes ago?" he asked, crossing his arms and studying her face. Trista felt a rush of deja vu at the gesture. She swallowed.
"Nothing," she said quickly, finally sliding her gaze away to stare at the blanket, plucking it with her fingers.
"You called me...Goku?"
Trista's face turned red. She didn't meet his eyes. "Just someone I...know. Sort of. You reminded me of him."
Dr. Spangler frowned down at her bent head. "How do you know that name?"
Her eyes shot to his, studying him for a moment. She parted her lips.
Her door banged open, James strutting through and, dismissing the doctor with his eyes, strolled to the other side of the bed.
"Hey baby!" he said loudly, bending down and trying to kiss her. She shot him a look of disgust, pushing him away from her face. He finally straightened, frowning at her. "What's the matter baby! Don't recognize me?" A small smile slid over his face.
"Ugh! Yes and I'd appreciate it if you left! Now!" She glared at him, fighting the urge to vomit. Nausea rose in the back of her throat. "I think I'm going to be sick!"
"Don't be a drama queen!" James said, waving away her statement and looking at the doctor. But her doctor paid him no attention, instead focused on Trista's face.
"Just take a deep breath. That's it. Lean back real slow. Here," he said softly, handing her the little clear cup. "Go ahead and take your medication, and I'll be back in awhile to check on you."
Dr. Spangler finally looked over at the man on her other side, frowning at the condescending look on his face.
"She's been through enough right now. I don't want you upsetting my patient more than necessary. You have five minutes," he stated, before walking out, leaving the door resting against the wall.
The man she detested strolled over and closed it, turning back to her with a frightening grin.
"So," he said, slowly walking back to her, rubbing his hands together, "how much brain damage do they think you have?"
Trista closed her eyes. She knew this was going to be a long five minutes.
A woman finally came in, hurrying through the door and not bothering to close it behind her, and throwing her arms around Trista's neck. Trista cried out in pain, and the woman quickly stepped back, leaving the smell of Chanel and hairspray with her. She groaned, trying to curl up and gasping as pain shot through her side. A stricken look passed the woman's face.
"Oh my God! Oh my God! I'm so sorry honey! I didn't even think..." She trailed off, quickly going towards the door and hollering out for the doctor. She practically ran back to Trista's side, ringing her hands.
"It's all right mom," Trista gasped out, grimacing at the pain.
"Way to go Mrs. Daniels," James said, smirking.
Her mother glared at the man, her lips thinning. "You, young man, need to leave!"
He ignored her, instead gazing at Trista with money signs in his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere," he stated, finally looking over at Trista's mom and folding his arms.
"The hell your not!" Darlene Daniels snapped, looking at her daughter for a moment before lifting her eyes back to the scumbag across the room. "You've hurt my daughter enough and I'll not sit by while you mooch-"
She cut off as the doctor came rushing back in, excusing himself as he took her mother's place beside the bed.
"That's enough visiting for one day," he stated, not looking at either of the visitors as he gently lifted the bandage to study the damage.
"Now!" he said loudly, cutting off both their protest. Her mom blew her a kiss, stating she'll be by later to check on her again, shooting James a look of hate when he stated the same. Trista heard them start arguing again as the door closed. Sighing, she closed her eyes.
She laied still as the doctor examined the wound on her side, feeling his gentle touch against her skin. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to embarrass herself by staring stupidly at him. She heard him sigh, then walk away. She heard a rustling sound. She opened her eyes. He had walked towards the door, pulling a pair of gloves out of the box beside it. He suddenly looked up at her.
He studied her for a moment. "Your stitches were pulled. We're going to have to replace them and re-bandage. Let me call one of the nurses to assist. I'll be right back." He left, not looking back.
Trista let her head fall back against the pillow. She studied the room reflected in the darkened window, thinking about her mom and, this time, siding with her about James. She really wished he would just disappear, never bothering her again. Now he's bent on staying, thinking she was gonna get some money out of the accident. As far as she was concerned, she didn't really care, as long as she got better. Her mind strayed back to her doctor. How weird is that! My doctor looks just like Goku, except not a cartoon! How the hell did that happen! Trista continued to study the window, wandering what other kind of irony fate had in store for her.
A few minutes later, Dr. Spangler walked back in, a nurse trailing behind him with a metal cart full of bandages and needles. And what looked like alcohol sitting on the side. She studied her bed rail, feeling his gentle touch on her again, fighting the blush shooting to her face.
"Did you take your pain medication?" he asked behind her, gently taking the ruined gauze off her side and handing it to the nurse. She felt him lightly clean the area around the stitches, his movements soft.
"Yes," she whispered, clearing her throat and focusing on his touch.
She heard him grunt. "That's good, because this isn't going to be very pleasant."
She heard the clank of metal, then the feel of cold steel against her skin as he cut the ripped stitching away. The nurse stood beside him, wiping excess blood that oozed out. She felt the pull of a needle a few minutes later, thankful that she did take the pills. She was a little groggy now, but she figured that was good since she couldn't really feel what he was doing. Another bandage appeared on her side, and she heard the cart being pushed out of the room. A moment later worried black eyes appeared in front of her.
"Are you okay?" Dr. Spangler asked softly, studying her face. She felt a smile appear, her eyes feeling heavy.
"Don't worry," she heard him whisper, "It's just the medication taking effect."
She slipped into blackness.
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