"Good morning!" I turned to look as the greeting disrupted me from my reminiscing. Was reminiscing the right word? Fretting? Remembering? Ruminating? Obsessing? Obsessing was probably more accurate at any rate. I still could not believe that everything had gone so wrong.
"How are you doing today?"
"Aside from bored? Hot. But thanks Mary."
"Aw, well we will see what we can do about that fever of yours," she said.
Her tone and credence were...off. I centered in on Mary trying to discern what was new that caused this change in her since yesterday. Mary, who signed her name with a flourish that brought the end of her Y almost connected to her M. Mary who was right handed but always started walking with her left foot first. What was it that affected her so? I saw a blush in her cheeks that continued to the tips of her ears. I looked at her fingers but no engagement ring. I had seen her walk in at the start of shift right? She was bringing in her lunch so I doubt it was anything special that caused the excitement. That's what this was, she was excited. Alright, if she won't disclose what was happening by accident, time to have her tell me.
"Right, the fever" I started. "That's the reason you came to visit. Why else would you on such an exceptionally boring day?" Let's see what she did with that.
"Boring? Not at all. You have Art therapy again today and you seemed to like it yesterday." then she started speaking faster. We were getting to the cause of her excitement. "We are getting a new Doctor in today. He is on loan from the surgical department and if he is half of what his reputation says, we are in for a treat." as she said that last word, it was less pronounced and more of a hurried sigh than a word. Bingo, she was excited about the new doctor.
With the mystery solved I patted myself on the back. Say what Grandpa Joe will, at least I wasn't slacking off. I didn't even know it was possible to case a hospital before I was admitted but that didn't mean I shouldn't try. I got to know the nurses, doctors and therapists. Then I moved to the chaplain's, janitors and food services departments. In time, assuming Grandpa Joe gave me any time, I would have this place committed to memory. Then, if I played my cards right, I could get Uncle Frank to come up with a plan or two. Even if it was just the cars, I'm sure there was money to be made. I kind of hoped it was the cars, they were some of my favorite jobs. If I followed the rules, hats and gloves, Uncle Frank would occasionally let me sit in the better cars. Maybe I would include cars in therapy today. "Therapy," I laughed to myself. I could see what they were doing. The stupid questions and feeble attempts at bonding were as transparent as water. I knew that I was probably better equipped at striking that right chord with your marks. It's not like they teach manipulation techniques in social work 101. Still, even if my mom hadn't given me all those lessons I'd like to think I wouldn't fall for all their, "I'm just trying to look out for you." Try as they might, I wasn't about to open up to Tess. She was great and all but I knew what was at stake. I knew it and reminded myself of it every time my social worker tried to talk to me. I would play along of course. I wasn't about to turn down unlimited freedom in an art studio, even if it was one that was at a hospital.
"Well maybe this one can figure out what's wrong with me. Then I'll be able to get out of here." I grumbled as Mary took my temperature. She winced as I said get out of here. No matter what the therapist and social workers said I knew I would be on my way once I got a clean bill of health, I'd have to be. Rather than pushing the subject I ignored her wince and looked at the number she logged into the computer. 105.4, crap! Now I'd have to take an ice bath before breakfast.
"Right now my number one priority is getting you better so that has to come first. I'll have them draw you an ice bath to get your temperature down. Then you will just sit tight. Breakfast should be up soon."
I ate quietly, not trying to draw attention to myself. A habit I picked up living with Uncle Frank. In my mind I was thinking about the oil paints they had in therapy. Say what you will about being sick and going crazy from boredom. Once I learned I was allowed to mix the paints myself and was allowed access to all the supplies they had, it became harder to complain about art therapy! Another thing to be thankful to Frank for, when he forged my insurance coverage, he didn't hold back. That meant they let me paint as much as I wanted. I knew I had to be careful, I'm sure the therapists didn't get many "masterpieces" at the children's hospital. Or even on the adult branch for that matter. Still, I had a hard time restraining myself as I felt the brush work against the canvas. I could already see the lines forming and curving to the picture in my head. I decided right then that I would draw a car, not because of Uncle Frank and the little indulgence he gave me. No, I would draw it because even now, I know it is the mostly likely way my family and I will escape. We will drive off, fast enough that by the time people know to look for us, they won't be able to see anything beyond the horizon. Red, I would make it red. Most kids like red right? Plus, when they ask, I'll say it is because of my fevers and fire and other BS that they will eat up. In fact, Ferrari red is what I'd aim for. This way I still get to mix and blend and it won't draw too much attention. I really do think kids like red but I can check in with some of the other patients on the ward. I never tried to learn them and their little nuances, I just figured they had enough going against them. They didn't need me memorizing their birthdays as the nurses checked in with them throughout the day. They certainly didn't need me pretending to talk to them when all I was really doing was screening for possible passwords. I already knew that any password JC, stupid JC, had created would be the word password. I tried to let the others keep their secrets and made no intentional effort on my end to learn them. Just as I was picturing the background to set the car in front of, there was a knock on my door.
"Neal Bright?" a voice chimed in from the doorway.
I turned, ready to respond with an affirmative and instead froze. Before I could even start formulating a word. Standing in the doorway was a man, and I'm sorry I'm not sorry but he was unbelievably handsome. This was next level attractive, to a point where even I knew he was good looking. I looked at his skin and knew that there wasn't a white pure enough to capture his skin. I would probably have a better bet capturing it with marble in statue form. His structure, the cheekbones, the dips and curves of his face. I could paint him from any angle and it still wouldn't be a bad angle. He seemed to not have any bad angles.
I saw him waiting for me to confirm my identity before he could proceed with attending to me. I nodded.
"So, you seem to be running another fever. How are you feeling otherwise?"
We went through the motions, I have enough practice with the question and answer part now that I knew what to say and when. It was all becoming so routine which was a good thing too because as he was talking to me, I was trying to respond but I just could not look away from his eyes. It was the second time in my life that I saw an eye color that exceeded the limitations of my brain. I had seen the occasional amber eye or really yellow hazel but these…. these were on a totally new level. People always complimented me on my eyes, except grandpa Joe. He saw them as a means to an end. Usually people described them as a brilliant green. Sometimes bottled green if they wanted to be a little more poetic. Grandpa Joe called them money green, because they were the cherry on top of half his money making schemes. If we were pushing a painting, he would say.
"Look how good they can paint with genetics, enough to create those eyes. Obviously their skill with a paintbrush is even more refined." I can still see my parents flinching when he would say this, as if they were making an effort to manipulate their son. To my knowledge only Grandpa Joe is that cruel. Despite my feelings about Grandpa Joe, even I couldn't deny the benefit to my eyes with working a con job. I could flash a look that made you either want to help me or believe me. It all depended on what I needed from you, and what the job called for. Even with that knowledge, I knew I would never achieve what this doctor was doing right now. All he had asked was how I was feeling and yet I was drawn to his eyes. I felt a pull to ask him to sit for me so I could capture them. As I studied them, and their color and tone I realized the extent of the task I would be asking of myself. There was an actual twinkle in them, as if he was internally smiling and that smile shown through his eyes. I knew the car painting that previously was driving in my head was now out the window, all thoughts of it were now replaced by these eyes and the subject that came along with them.
"I just want to briefly examine you briefly. I don't know if your temperatures are related to your endocrine system or integumentary system."
I nodded along, knowing more tests would come. He walked towards me and then it clicked when he said examine. I didn't realize he meant he had to physically examine me. Now I feel like all the doctors previously would treat by the doorway. Gone were the days of the fabled bedside manner. As he reached for my throat, to check one gland or another I felt his skin when it made contact/ It was freezing cold. Distinctly cold, so much so that it brought me back to the night everything started falling apart.