Page 5 of Make You Love Me
I can’t remember much from that day, just snippets that feel conjured from a dream. Maybe I did dream them, but at least there’s no murderer on the loose.
“Was there a fire?”
“Not that I’m aware of. You don’t have any burns.”
“That’s good. How long until I’m back to normal? Can I return to service after or am I beyond repair? My buddy Jackson’s injuries were so severe they didn’t give him an option.”
“Return?”
New questions bombard my thoughts, and I can’t get them out fast enough. “Wait a minute. Who was driving the car? Are they okay? Did they survive?”
“You were driving, Jordan. Don’t you—”
“I was? Whose car?”
She stares at me, confusion creasing the skin around her eyes. “Give me a second.”
“Where are you going?”
“Jordan, just…” She holds up a finger, telling me to wait patiently. But how can I when she’s acting so strangely? Like she’s scared. “I’ll be right back.” She jogs to the door and out, letting it rattle shut behind her.
While I wait, I shuffle through my memories, trying to remember the crash. I don’t remember driving or getting hit. I vaguely remember Sergeant Montgomery’s hollow voice calling to me in the darkness. Where was I going? Where did I get a car? Why wasn’t I on base?
My head spins faster than my stomach can take. Hauling myself up by the short bed railing, I lean over and vomit into the can on the floor. And just my luck, Josie returns in time to see me hanging off the mattress, too weak to put myself back where I came from.
“Oh, Jordan. I’m sorry.” She tugs on my uninjured shoulder with the help of someone behind me.
Embarrassment hits me like a cherry pie to the face—I hate cherries and pie. Uninterested in seeing the pity in their eyes, I close mine as my head lowers to the pillow.
“Sweetie, are you okay? Say something,” Josie urges, and I despise how fear shreds her melodic voice way more than cherry pie.
“What did the ocean say to the beach?”
“What?”
“You heard me.” She loves my dad jokes. Since we were kids, I’ve used them to make her laugh whenever she’s sick or scared. Now’s probably not the best time to pull one out of the hat, but I will argue that there’s never a bad time for a joke.
“He thinks he’s a comedian,” she explains and sighs. “What did the ocean say to the beach?”
I can almost hear her eyes rolling. “Nothing. It just waved.”
Silence follows, then a snicker from someone on my other side before they both laugh.
“Hardy har har,” Josie placates, all fear in her voice successfully eliminated. “It’s time to behave yourself. Doctor Elvis is here.”
My eyes fly open. “Did you say Elvis?”
“She did,” Dr. Elvis answers, and she’s a woman. Totally unexpected, and I love it. “It’s a nickname. Way more fun than Doctor Elvira Ellis.”
“Ahh. Elvira and Ellis together…brilliant.” I swallow the bitter taste in my mouth, and like the perceptive mother hen that she is, Josie hands me a cup of water. “Thank you. Tell me, Doc. When can I get out of here?”
“You’ve made impressive improvement this week. Your test results look good, and making jokes is a new concussion symptom I haven’t experienced before. Does he always do that?” she asks Josie.
“Oh, yeah,” we say in unison and so in tune it would be easy to mistake us for twins.
“I look forward to hearing more in the coming days. We don’t expect you to need any more surgeries, but I’d like to get anotherx-ray or CT scan to make sure. Since you’re still vomiting, we need to monitor you a little while longer. Let’s get you some lunch and see if you can hold it down.”
Dr. Elvis turns and nods to a nurse, who I didn’t notice standing beside the door. She scurries off to take care of the silent order.
