A Friend in Need III: Crash and Burn
By Somogyi
Chapter 11
After pulling into the staff section of the hospital parking lot, Dr. Foxx downed the last sips of her morning caffeine fix before grabbing her things and heading inside. Glancing at her watch, she bypassed the Emergency Room, instead taking the elevator up to the fifth floor. She flashed her ID to the nurse behind the station in the Burn Unit on her way to Room 513. She barely glanced through the window in the door before entering.
"Morning, Drake. Guess what I brought for y-" Her breath caught in her throat at the sight that greeted her: Bobby Drake sat in the chair at the bedside, his back to the door, much as he had the previous evening. Only now, the bed was empty.
He did not react to the sound of her voice. He merely kept staring straight ahead, at the unoccupied bed.
"Drake, what happened?"
It took him a moment to reply. "She's . . . gone."
"Oh God. I'm so sorry." Dropping her backpack to the floor and placing the paper bag on a side-table, she pulled the other chair over toward his. She bowed her head, folding her hands in her lap, as she summoned her courage. "When?" she asked softly.
"A little over an hour ago. They only just took the body away." Still, he stared straight ahead, as though he were still looking at her.
"Were you here . . . when it happened?"
He slowly nodded. "I was sitting right here, holding her hand. Talking to her, as she slipped away. The heart monitor started to sound funny. Then suddenly it stopped beeping. A nurse came in to shut it off. She called a doctor, who listened to her chest, and pronounced her."
"I'm so very sorry," she said again, leaning forward in her chair and placing a hand on his arm.
He shrugged. "Hey, it's not like I even knew her, right? She was just some Jane Doe. Some mystery woman without a name or an identity. A nobody."
Dr. Foxx flinched inwardly at the harshness of his words. "At the very least, she was somebody's daughter. For all we know, she was somebody's sister, maybe even somebody's wife, someone's mother."
This time it was Bobby who cringed. "Yeah. Sure. Maybe."
He sounded completely unconvinced. What wasn't he telling her?
"What the hell does it matter anyway?" he continued. "She ended up nameless, faceless, without a past, no hope for a future. In the end, she was alone."
How had his attitude managed to change so much in only a few hours? Dr. Foxx wondered. Whereas the previous evening he at least seemed hopeful, now he sounded utterly defeated.
"But that's not true," the doctor countered. "She wasn't alone. You were here with her."
"Fat lot of good that did her. She's still dead."
"At least she isn't suffering any more. There's that."
"Forgive me if I'm not able to find any good in what happened here," he said, his voice suddenly cold. "I fail to see anything positive come from a situation where a woman is practically burned alive and then left to cling to life by a tenuous thread until it unravels and breaks. Where we can do nothing to ease her suffering, to keep her alive. Where all we can do is stand by helplessly and watch her slip away." He slowly shook his head.
He had managed to close his heart off to the situation, to distance himself from the pain, she realized. A typical defense mechanism.
"What you've done, Drake, hardly qualifies as nothing. Just look at what you did for this woman: You stayed with her to the very end. It may not seem like much, but I'm sure, deep down, she could sense your presence. And when it was time, she could feel you here. And maybe then she wasn't so scared anymore. When it was time to let go, she was ready. I'm sure your being here made all the difference. She was very lucky to have you here with her."
"Lucky? I'm the one who put her here. I'm the reason Jeanie's missing. At least one woman is dead-by my hand." He bowed his head, clasping his hands between his knees.
So that was what this came down to: not simply guilt over this mystery woman's death, but a feeling of responsibility for his friend's disappearance.
"You'll find her, Drake. You will. She's out there, somewhere. It's just a matter of time. All you need is a little faith."
"I- I just can't help thinking . . . what if the same thing happened to Jeanie? What if she's lying in another hospital bed somewhere? What if she's all alone? What if no one's there to be with her, to hold her hand, as she slips away?"
"If that's true-and I pray to God that it's not-then hopefully there's someone just like you there with her." She placed her hand on top of his.
"I hope so, Doc," he whispered. "I really hope so."
They sat in silence for a while. She took the opportunity to study his face. He had several days' worth of stubble on his cheeks and jaw, down his throat. There were dark circles under his eyes-a clear indication of how little he had slept recently. His light brown hair was rather unkempt-as though he had been worrying it repeatedly with his fingers. He looked like he could use a hot shower and a few days sleep-not to mention a decent meal.
"Hey, Drake, I brought you something."
He looked over at her, a look of mild curiosity flitting across his features. "Oh?"
Letting go of his hand, she reached behind her for the brown paper bag she had brought with her. She waved it in front of him. "Breakfast."
"Is that coffee I smell?" His face brightened.
"It most certainly is. And a bagel."
"A bagel?"
She nodded.
"With cream cheese?"
Another nod.
"It's not that fake fat free stuff is it?"
"Hell, no. If you're gonna use cream cheese, you gotta go all the way."
He smirked. "A woman after my own heart." He took the bag from her, opened it, and peered inside. "Ooo." He pulled the wrapped bagel out of the bag and started to open the paper.
"How about we go to the cafeteria to eat?" she suggested.
"You don't have to work?"
"I've still got a little time before my shift starts. We can talk some more if you'd like."
"Did you eat already?" he asked.
"Yeah, on the drive in. But I could always go for another cup of coffee."
He took a moment to glance at the empty bed. Finally, he sighed and nodded his head. "All right, sure." Replacing the bagel in the bag, he slowly got to his feet, and she did the same.
Picking up her knapsack, she headed for the door. "You okay, Drake?" she asked, watching how stiffly he moved.
"Yeah, I'll be fine. I've just been sitting too long. And I think I'm overdue for some Advil."
She held the door for him as he stepped out into the hallway.
"Thanks for the breakfast, Doc. Guess I must seem especially pathetic the way you've been taking pity on me."
"You're hardly pathetic. And it's not pity. Far from it." As they approached the elevator, she pressed the down button.
"What, then? Surely you don't usually track down patients-especially when they're no longer even under your care. And somehow I doubt that you bring food to any of 'em."
The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside.
"No, I think this is a first for me. You ought to feel honored."
"Oh, I do. I'm just curious as to why I've been singled out. Is it my charming personality? My stellar good looks? My wicked sense of humor?"
"That would be no, no, and no. Let's just say I can sympathize with your cause: I know what it's like to have someone close to you seriously injured. I know how important it is to have someone to talk to, to be there for you. Not that I expect you to talk to me per se. I just meant. . . ." Blushing, she stumbled on her words. She was grateful when the elevator opened and she could escape into the hallway.
She had barely gotten a few steps away when she felt his hand on her elbow. Turning, her eyes came level with his and she absently realized that he was only an inch or so taller than she.
He was staring at her, his face unusually somber. His hand slid down her arm, his fingers closing around her own. "I think I know exactly what you mean, Doc. And I really appreciate all you've done for me. I'd say it goes above and beyond the call of duty. I just want you to know that it means a lot."
She stared into his eyes as though entranced. She had the feeling that it was not very often that Bobby Drake expressed such a serious, heartfelt sentiment that was not disguised behind a joke or sarcastic comment. That knowledge touched her deeply-as much, if not more so, than his actual words.
After a few moments, she cleared her throat. "Well, just so long as word doesn't get out. I don't want all my patients expecting me to bring them breakfast in the morning."
He chuckled. "It'll be out little secret. Now, c'mon, let go sit down. I'm starving." Releasing her hand, he headed for the cafeteria. Smiling, she walked with him, side-by-side.
End Chapter 11