They all scramble to leave but not before one of the women touches Andre’s sleeve and then squeals with excitement. He clears his throat before carefully extricating his arm. It’s a curious thing but I’ve observed it many times before. People feel compelled to touch him almost like they can’t believe he’s real unless they do.
“Mr. Lavin, now that I’m aware of who you are, I can understand why your brother put down a false name.”
Andre puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Yes, I’m sure he was just trying to prevent any commotion in your hospital. Perhaps there is a way we can leave without attracting too much attention.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” The older woman’s attention swings to me then. “You’re all set, hon. The doctor said you don’t have a concussion so we’re going to discharge you. Just make sure you take it easy. You got really banged up. Luckily your wrist wasn’t broken.”
I start laughing and then once I start, I can’t stop. My body is bruised all the way down my left side, I have a sprained wrist and my head is splitting. Nothing about this day feels lucky.
It feels more like the universe tried to take me out and just happened to miss.
Thinking of that makes me wonder. If today had been my last day, what would I regret? The fog in my brain clears long enough for me to realize Ariana never came back.
“Bella, where are you? She has escaped once more.”
Andre leans down to hear me. “What? Who escaped? Dear brother I think you might be high from the pain medication.”
“Yeah, probably.”
Accepting his arm, I stand carefully. The room spins and for a moment I’m convinced that everything I ate earlier is about to make an unwelcome appearance. But then the world turns right side up again and I take a deep breath. The air seems too thick, like I can barely take it in.
Hopefully I’ll feel better once I’m away from this place and no longer have the smell of antiseptic and sadness in my nose.
This is not what I imagined my life would be as a young boy. Feeling trapped and restless in my work and even worse, jealous of my own brother. This is not what my father would have wanted for me. Thinking that he would be disappointed in the man I have become is unbearable.
“Do you believe in fate, Andre? Like the stories Papa used to tell?”
He sighs. “Tonight, I took a woman on a date. It was crashed by the man she was meant to be with. I believe fate drives us all where it wants us to go. It’s just not always a pleasant ride.”
It’s not often my brother doesn’t get the girl so this news is a surprise. It’s petty but it actually makes me feel a little better.
“That means I’ll see her again.”
“What?”
I ignore his questioning glance. No one needs to know about my beautiful little devil. She’s mine.
Spending days in bed is one of those things that’s better in theory than reality. Honestly, it’s my worst nightmare. My brother is very talented but a nursemaid he is not.
Thinking of nurses reminds me of Ariana. It was quite a shock to see her wearing scrubs but the best kind. I imagine there have been plenty of men who would walk in front of a cab on purpose if it meant being taken care of by a woman like her.
When she’d appeared in the midst of my pain and confusion, it had seemed like fate intervening once again. But then she’d slipped away and I still have no way to contact her outside of stalking the hospital hoping to see her. If this is fate’s idea of pushing us together it’s doing a terrible job.
I’ll end up in a ditch instead of in her bed at this rate.
There’s a quick knock at the door and I groan. Andre must have put in some kind of standing order with room service because they’ve been delivering a steady stream of boring food for each meal.
It’s a struggle to stand after lazing around all day so it takes me a minute to get up. The man at the door makes quick work of wheeling the tray in and setting up the table. After signing the receipt, and including a healthy tip, I’m alone again.
I scowl down at the bowl of soup and the sleeve of crackers on the tray. If I never have to look at another bowl of soup or porridge again I’ll be content.
Getting hit by a car was no picnic but I’m not dying. This food is making me feel like I have one foot in the grave already.
That’s it. I’m going out. They told me that I should take it easy for a few days. They didn’t say anything about treating me like a grandfather or boring me to death.
“Where are you going? You’re supposed to be resting,” Andre asks in Italian, gesturing to the bed.
We usually speak Italian when we’re alone since he’s not concerned about practicing his English. The Italian accent simply adds to his mystique and of course, women love it. Funny how the same people who admire the accent in social situations assume it means you’re less competent in business negotiations.