Page 13 of Collin: Episodes 1-3
“I will go with you.”
“Okay.”
There were questions. Some he answered. Some he couldn’t quite seem to grasp. Mr. Reevesworth’s voice, though, was a thread through all of it. His voice. And also his hand. In a nightmare of lights and movement, voices, and what seemed like the inside of an ambulance, that was the line he could follow. So he did. Anything Mr. Reevesworth said, he did. Or he tried to do. Even when there were sharp pricks in his arm, weird sounds, cold surfaces, and more flashing lights. Sometimes he felt like he went away, but he always came back. Until finally, at last, it was quiet and Mr. Reevesworth said, “Close your eyes, Collin. Sleep.”
Collin roused to the sound of clicking keys and a woman in a white coat standing at the food of a bed. A bed in which he was lying. That at least tracked. His head felt large. He turned slowly. Seated beside him was a Black man in a purple turtleneck and dark slacks. He looked up.
“Collin.”
“Do I know you?”
The man stood. He was tall, though not extremely tall. He held out his hand. “Émeric Moreau. My husband asked me to sit with you. He will return shortly.”
Collin’s fingers twisted in the blanket. He glanced at the woman in the white coat, but she simply shot him a smile.
“I’ll let you two be. Collin. You’re doing fine, if you don’t remember the last time we talked. Dehydrated and low blood sugar, signs of exhaustion, but with Mr. Moreau and Mr. Reevesworth looking after you, I’m not worried. We’ll have you checked out of here in no time.”
Collin’s mouth opened and closed. What was ‘no time’? An hour, a couple of days? There was no way he was going to be able to pay this bill. They should have left him where he lay in the break room. Too late for that now. Maybe he could stall the debt collectors long enough to graduate next semester and then find a better job. Maybe. It took time for things to go to collections. And he could file for charity care and…
Thoughts flew out of his brain as a warm hand settled on his.
“Whatever you’re thinking, either share it or let it go, Collin. I suppose you’re concerned about the bill.”
“Not to be a materialist, but…yes.” Collin kept his eyes on the blanket.
Mr. Moreau patted the back of his hand and then squeezed it gently. “Fortunately, you fall under our insurance policy as an employee. And since you were injured on company property…”
“I’m fairly sure I’m no longer employed, sir.” Collin risked a glance up. “I don’t know what Mr. Reevesworth has told you, but…it was my fault. I won’t make a scene, I swear. It was completely inappropriate.”
Mr. Moreau smiled. The edges of his eyes crinkled. “I believe you are referring to trying to wash your dirty shirt in the sink.”
“It…it was a little worse than that.” Blood burned in Collin’s cheeks.
Mr. Moreau laughed. “I do believe that by leaving your socks till last, you rather ruined the scene for Richard. But he will survive the disappointment. Just remember. Socks should always be removed before pants.”
He raised an eyebrow and smiled, leaning back in his chair.
Collin blinked at him. “I didn’t have another pair of socks.”
Mr. Moreau shook his head, his smile widening. He reached out and patted Collin’s knee through the blanket. “I think I see what drew Richard to you. Now, be a darling and stay there. I’m going to speak to your doctor and see about moving you home. And just so you know, that will be our home. You have a concussion. They won’t release you without supervision. And Ellisandre says you don’t have family here in the city.”
The man left before Collin could find a word in his jumbled mind to speak.
He was concussed. That was the only excuse he had. He was having concussion dreams, and it would all sort itself out later.
Reality did not sort itself out. Three hours later, a last round of tests performed—which included a man in a white coat announcing Collin was of sane and sound mind—Mr. Moreau wheeled Collin to the elevator and out of the hospital to the sidewalk, where Ellisandre waited with a door to a sleek black car held open. They tsked and helped him into the back seat while Mr. Moreau went and entered the back seat from the street side. Then they sat in the front beside the driver, a young-looking Asian man.
Mr. Moreau handed Collin a pair of sunglasses. “Cover your eyes. No one realizes how many light flashes driving causes. It will help you avoid headaches. Which you probably still have.”
Mutely, Collin obeyed.
“Collin.” Ellisandre turned in their seat. “I sent your clothes to the cleaners, all of them, even the shoes, though I’m not sure if they can get the blood out of your sneakers. Your phone is charged, but you’re not supposed to look at screens for a few days, so let someone know if you’d like anyone to check it for messages. Everything else in your backpack was safe enough. I had to lay some of it out to dry, so it’s all at the office. There was a reminder on your screen for a paper due today. Tell someone who your professor is, and we’ll contact them and get an extension. And don’t argue.”
“I’m not arguing.” Collin held up his hands. If he’d learned anything in the last week working with Ellisandre, it was not to argue even if he was fairly sure this was a dream delusion version of them.
Ellisandre clicked their tongue. “Good. Now you may still be having trouble remembering things, but if there’s anything at your apartment that needs to be seen to, tell someone, anyone that’s near you, when you remember.”
“There’s nothing. I don’t think my roommates will even notice I’m gone. Two of them are always high, and three of them are barely there, except to sleep. Like me.”
