“Can you hear me, son?” my father asked.
My eyes fluttered open as I cracked my neck.
“Yep. I can hear you both just fine,” I said.
“What in the world were you thinking?” my mother asked.
“I wasn’t, which was the issue.”
“Damn straight it was the issue. You could’ve killed yourself,” my father said.
“That’s enough, Kane.”
“You woke him up, so I get to say what I want, Ruby.”
I reached out and curled my hand around hers as she brushed tears from her eyes. My father sat at the foot of my bed and allowed his hand to fall around my ankle. I got my steely gray eyes from my fat
her, but I got my blonde hair from my mother. I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her in, feeling her tears soak the crook of my neck. I held her tightly and kissed the top of her head while my father massaged my ankle with his hand.
He was never one to show that type of affection, so when it happened we always knew he was struggling.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” I said.
“You’re a grown man. You can make your own decisions and not feel sorry for them. But you can’t stop thinking your decisions through. A teenager is impulsive. A thirty-five-year-old man isn’t.”
“I hear you loud and clear,” I said.
“I hate to break things up, but I’m here to perform a last check,” the nurse said.
“A sight for sore eyes,” I said with a smile.
“Once I clear you, your pain medication will take about an hour to put together downstairs, then you’ll be good to go.”
“I appreciate your help,” I said.
“Thank you for taking care of our son,” my father said.
“He’s a little flirt, you know,” Nurse Delacourt said.
“Really?” my mother asked flatly.
All of us laughed as she sat up from my shoulder.
“Oh, and I tried looking into that information for you regarding where the paramedics found you. They said they would dig through their records and get back to me, but they were in the process of responding to a call when I contacted them,” the nurse said.
“Thank you for looking into it,” I said.
“Wait, what happened?” my mother asked.
“Where did they find you?” my father asked.
“A bar of some sort, I think. There was a woman there who helped me out when I stumbled in. I was hoping to thank her for reacting as quickly as she did and generally not freaking out like most would have,” I said.
“We can worry about that later,” my mother said. “Right now, I want to get you home.”
“Then I’ll start my exam so we can get that underway,” the nurse said.
It didn’t take long, and less than an hour later I was being discharged. Dad helped me into the wheelchair, so he could get me to the car and Mom went downstairs to the hospital pharmacy to pick up my pain medication. Nurse Delacourt handed me my clothes from last night, my wallet, discharge papers, and sheets on how to care for my wound so it didn’t get infected.