Page 115 of Corkscrew You
“Nate’s with Doc Wilson.” Ava picks up on my unspoken question. “Apparently, his iron levels were so low, he might have to be re-classified as a different species.”
“Doc’s infusing him,” says Danny. “He’ll be back soon.”
“Infusing?”
“Apparently, medical science has moved on since the ass injection,” Danny says, with a grin. “Now, they stick you on a drip.”
Oh, poop. The mere mention of it, and I have to drop my head between my knees. Of course, this brings every Durant to my side. I have hands on my back and worried murmurs in my ear.
“I’m OK.” I raise my head slowly and try to look reassured. “It’s just – hospitals.”
“Good thing you missed the description of Dad’s procedure,” says Max. “We were all a bit green by the end of that.”
“Max,howdoes that help?” Izzy smacks his arm.
Her brother clutches his arm over-dramatically. “Nurse!”
“Children, please,” says Mrs Durant. “Let’s make this apeacefultime.”
Danny is rummaging on a shelf where a lot of old board games are stacked.
“No Monopoly,” warns Ava. “Peaceful, remember?”
“Ah ha!” Her brother pulls out a deck of cards. “Go Fish, anyone?”
“Oh,weused to play that!” I say.
“Then gather round,” says Danny. “And let the great Go Fish battle commence.”
Two games in, and Nate returns, a Band-Aid on the back of his left hand, which I try not to look at.
“Your girlfriend’s cleaning up,” Danny tells him.
Nate makes Izzy shift, so he can pull his chair next to mine. He wraps his arm around me and drops a kiss on my temple.
“You OK?” I ask.
“I’m now permanently aligned to the magnetic North,” he replies. “But, yeah, feeling better already.”
“Want me to deal you in?” Danny asks.
“No, thanks.” Nate smiles. “I’ll just sit here and enjoy watching you get creamed.”
We play three more games. I win every one. I can feel Nate silently laughing beside me. His family are less amused. Competitive bunch, they are.
“How about we play Texas Hold ’em.” Danny tosses his losing hand on the table. “I’m actually half decent at that.”
But no one gets a chance to answer, because right then, a doctor steps through the door.
“Mrs Durant?” she says.
Nate’s mom hastens forward, anxiety all over her face. The rest of us get up, and stand behind her, like bodyguards. I slip my hand into Nate’s and he squeezes it tightly. He’s worried, too.
“Your husband’s procedure went very smoothly,” says the doctor. “He’s back in the ward now, recovering. We’ll keep him overnight for observation, but I don’t anticipate any issues.”
“Can we see him?” asks Nate’s mom.
“He’s sore and dizzy, and he needs rest,” the doctor replies. “I suggest you come back tomorrow morning. If all’s well, you can take him home in the afternoon.”
