Page 18 of A Dom Vs. Domme Story
Chapter 7
IAN
I wake up again a couple hours later. I wish I hadn’t, because my headache is insane and my stomach feels like someone punched it a hundred times over.
I’m alone. What scares me more is that my senses return strong enough for me to recognize a hospital room. A private one, with some Japanese movie playing on a TV in the corner. A single vase of daisies is on my bedside, but other than that, the only personal touch to my current predicament is my bag of clothing on the bottom shelf of the closet.
Fuck me. What the hell happened?
I don’t have the strength to panic, but I have enough to push the call button for the nurse.
One shows up almost immediately. Petite, no makeup, her only interest in the world is apparently the fact that I’m awake. Naturally, she does not speak English, and even if I could speak Japanese, it’s not coming out of my muted mouth right now.
Since I’m not freaking the fuck out (externally, anyway,) she checks my vitals. She then says something in Japanese. I don’t care how soft-spoken and reassuring she sounds when I don’t know what she’s saying. When she leaves, she says, “Doctor.”
Five minutes later I’m greeted by a genial doctor who does the same round as the nurse accompanying him. The only difference, besides his gender, is the fact he can speak some English. “Good evening, Mr. Mathers,” he says. “Good to see you awake. I’m Dr. Iwamoto. I’m not your primary doctor who’s been treating you, but he isn’t here, nor does he speak English. So, you have to talk to me.”
“What…” That’s the only thing I can utter. My voice must sound like dust rolling across Death Valley, for the nurse brings over a cup of water and helps get the straw in my mouth. Sucking shouldn’t be this hard.
“Fish allergy.” The doctor goes through my chart while he speaks. “Says here you had a particularly nasty reaction to something you ate last night. Not food poisoning. If you had that on top of the allergic reaction, you’d probably be dead.”
Thanks, Doc. “I don’t…” The water is taking a long time to make things work in my mouth. “I don’t have fish allergies.” I’m allergic to very few foods, and the ones Iamallergic to only cause mild intestinal distress. Nothing like this.
“You may have never had this fish before. Very rare. Very expensive. The man who brought you in said you went to one of the few places in the city you can get this fish.”
Still calling bullshit, because I’ve been rich enough my whole life to have the rarest shit wherever I go. Don’t even have to ask for it, like last night, but I guess it’s possible coincidence kept me away from this deadly stink. I did have sushi, didn’t I? Fuck.
“You’re going to be all right, Mr. Mathers. We want to keep you for a couple more days until you get your strength back and so we can observe you and make sure you don’t have a secondary reaction. We’ve already cleared your insurance and can inform anyone you want.”
Kathryn! Oh my God, where’s my girlfriend?
“My girlfriend,” I say. “Where is she? Has she been here?”
It doesn’t even cross my mind that she doesn’t know. She’s probably been worried sick out in the waiting room. Can I see her now?
“Who?” the doctor asks. He turns to the nurse and asks her something in Japanese. She shakes her head. “She says nobody has come to visit you.”
What? Kathryn should be living here, whether I like it or not.
“Kathryn. Where is she?”
“Who isKyasarin?”
Talking is using up a lot of energy I don’t have. Odds are I haven’t consumed any sustenance in a while so they could totally flush my system. I can already smell the soup coming my direction. A part of me is ready to devour it, while the other part wants to throw up and go back to sleep.
“My girlfriend,” I finally manage to say. Sounds so wrong, calling Kathryn my mere girlfriend. She’s so much more than that. She’s my partner in all things but living arrangements – even though I keep thinking we should move in together sooner rather than later. We practically live at each other’s places anyway. I know I don’t dedicate half my master bath to her hygiene and makeup products because I get off on it. “I came here with her.”
“To Japan?”
“Yes. For business.”
The doctor confers with the nurse again. “I’m sorry, but nobody like that has been here.”
“Does she even know?”
“The only people who know you’re here are the ones who brought you in.”
It must have been the Isoyas, but they would have told Kathryn, surely? Because there is no way in hell paranoid and worry-wart Kathryn would know I’m here andnotcamp out in their waiting room. She’d probably call my mom and made her fly out here. They’d have a séance to call my spirit back to my body or some shit. (It would probably work. For all I know, that is what they have done.)
So where are they?
“You have to call her. She’s probably worried to death about me.”
“We’ll make sure she’s contacted and knows where you are. Is there anyone else we should inform?”
I almost say my mother, but refrain. Shewouldfly straight here and smother me with her worry, and it would be for nothing. Instead, I mention my father, under the condition he promises to not tell his ex-wife. I’m only letting him know because he’s technically my boss and I’m on a business trip. Also, I should probably give them Valerie’s number and have her arrange a first class ticket on a commercial flight back home. Who knows how long I’ll be here.
“Try to relax, Mr. Mathers. We’ll get some food in you. Then we want you to sleep. We’ll try getting you up and walking around tomorrow.”
I’m supposed to fly back to America the day after tomorrow. With my luck, it’ll be a month before I’m back at work. The least the universe could do right now is deliver my should-be-fiancée into my lap. I’m going to be a lonely bastard soon enough.
