Page 13 of Forgotten Sacrifice
“Better, but I still feel like crap,” I say with a scratchy voice.
“I’m not going to lecture you on the dangers of binge drinking; I’m guessing your mother of all hangovers is a lesson in and of itself,” Nicky tells me.
I groan in agreement.
“But next time,ifthere is a next time, a good rule of thumb is one alcoholic beverage per hour, one glass of water between each alcoholic beverage.”
“I don’t even want to think about it.” I shudder.
“I’m not defending your behavior, but I still chewed Vince a new one for refusing to give you water,” she informs me.
“Really? I would’ve liked to have been awake for that,” I say with a little laugh, but immediately regret it, bringing my hand to my tender head. “Oww.”
“Come on, let’s get up and walk to the bathroom.”
I close my eyes. “I’m not going anywhere unless it’s the morgue.”
“Luna, I need a urine sample from you,” she says firmly.
I snap my eyes open to find her holding a cup. “Oh my God, is Vince making me take a pregnancy test?”
Nicky shakes her head. “I need to track your urine output. But do you need a pregnancy test?” she asks gently.
“No, I’m on the pill to help with period cramps. Besides, I’ve never had actual sex.”
“What is ‘actual’ sex?”
“Like PIV.”
Nicky looks confused. “Sorry, I need a translation.”
“Penis in vagina sex,” I whisper. “Can I tell you something between us since you’re a doctor?”
“I’m not a…” She pauses. “Yes, go ahead.”
Looking around to make sure Vince isn’t lurking in the corner, I admit, “I hooked up with a guy, and I’m really confused why oral is so hyped.”
She pats my arm. “One day, when you’re with the right guy, you’ll understand the hype. Come on.” She helps me upand guides me to the bathroom, toting the IV on wheels along with us.
Peeing in a cup is trickier than it looks, but I’m just thankful urine comes out this time; I guess that whole not being able to pee thing should have been a red flag.
I place the cup on the sink and wash my hands. Nicky knocks and enters, examining the specimen and doing some kind of calculation on a notepad. “Your urine output is good,” she tells me.
“Thanks, I guess?”
Nicky smiles as she guides me back to bed, and I gladly lay down; walking that short of a distance was freaking exhausting. Grabbing a glass from the nightstand, she holds it up for me. “Drink.”
I do as I’m told, and she sits the glass on the nightstand. “I’m going to remove your IV, butonlyif you promise to hydrate and rest,” she warns, putting on gloves.
“I promise. Wait, what about my chess tournament?” I ask in a panic.
Nicky shakes her head. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Vince won’t be happy,” I warn her.
“Vince can take it up with me,” she says, matter-of-factly. There’s a slight sting as she removes the IV, placing a cotton ball on the crook of my arm before she sticks a bandage to my skin. If she notices the scars on my wrist, she doesn’t comment. “I’m going to take your blood pressure.” She wraps a cuff around my arm and pumps until my arm’s being strangled. “It was low earlier; this an improvement,” she announces when she stops pumping the little ball thingie and the pressure subsides.
My eyes land on this woman’s ginormous diamond ring. A strange feeling gnaws at my chest, but I can’t put my finger on what it is. “Are you Vince’s wife?” He’s never mentioned a wife, but then again, we don’t exactly discuss things other than chess and mob loan percentage points.
