Page 94 of The Fool

“Mr Carter?” A man in green scrubs finally comes out through the double doors, his top showing flecks of blood if you look close enough. I pretend not to notice as I jump up and begin pacing toward him.

“That’s me,” I tell him, my hands beginning to tremble over what he might be about to tell me. “How is she? Is she--”

“She’s in Intensive Care,” he explains, holding his hand up to stop me from having to finish that question. I feel a wave of relief pass over me, the same one I see in Ben and his parents. “We nearly lost her a couple of times, but we managed to revive her. However, I must warn you, there was some swelling; the next forty-eight hours are critical, but if she pulls through, I’m hopeful she’ll make it.”

Bea’s mother continues to emit muffled sobs against her husband’s jacket, whereas Ben looks like he’s pulling lumps of hair away from his scalp.

“Can we see her please?” I practically beg on behalf of everyone.

“You can, though I should warn you to prepare yourselves,” the doctor says, “we’ve tried to stem the bleeding as much as possible, but in these cases, subsequent bleeding may occur.” I ball my hands into fists as I listen to him talking about her like she’s just meat and bones, which is completely irrational, I know, but I’m surviving on very limited patience here. “We had to remove her spleen but otherwise, everything is intact. Once we’ve settled her into the ICU, we’ll let you know, and you can go and see her.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Bea’s father gasps as he shakes his hand, to which the doctor nods before heading back behind the doors of doom.

“Fuck!” Ben grits out through his teeth at the same time as running his fingers through his hair.

“Ben, keep it together, for Christ’s sake! This is a hospital!” Bea’s father snaps.

“Mr Carter? Mr and Mrs Summers?” a woman in uniform says as she seemingly appears out of nowhere. We all turn on her with pensive expressions that probably look angry, though it’s only through grief, shock, and exhaustion.

“That’s us,” Bea’s mom finally replies, “can we help you, Officer?”

“Hi, I’m Officer Layton, Harriet Layton,” she says with a warm smile. “I just need to ask you a few questions about what happened, if I may?”

She gestures over to the chairs next to the wall, so we all go to sit down, ready to relive the horrifying moment when Bea was sent flying to the ground. She takes out a notepad and pen and begins tracking back over her notes.

“Firstly, I’m so sorry this happened to Miss Summers, my thoughts are with you. I’m here because I need to make sure there was no foul play and to see who was at fault. If we need to do any formal interviews, we’ll arrange them for a later date; you must all be frantic with worry.”

She pauses to assess our reactions, to which we just nod without much expression.

“I interviewed the driver, and she told me Miss Summers ran out in front of her,” she explains, then looks up to face us once again. “Is that what you saw?”

“Yes,” Ben voices for us. “There had been an argument and Bea was distressed; she wasn’t thinking.”

“I see. So, from what you saw, was there any fault on the driver’s part?”

“No,” I reply at the same time as I hear Bea’s mother emit a muffled sob.

“We’ve looked at Miss Summer’s history and it would seem she was brought into hospital when she was eighteen,” she states, her neutral expression now turning into a frown of curiosity. “An overdose, suspected attempt at suicide?”

“Yes,” Ben replies with a ghost of a voice, and I notice her father shaking his head toward the floor.

“I just wondered if this recent incident may have been another attempt to end her life.”

“No, absolutely not,” I reply with conviction. “This was different, and we can each give you statements that confirm this, but right now, we have other matters to deal with.”

“Sure,” she says with a forced smile, “here’s my card. Please call when you feel able to.” She hands over a card, then gets to her feet. “I hope she pulls through, and I wish you all the best.”

She shuffles away with a sad smile, and I close my eyes to her retreating figure. However, they soon burst open when I hear Bea’s father jump to his feet with a sigh that tells me he is getting ready to lose his shit with someone. That person appears to be his son from the way he’s now glaring at Ben.

“Start talking now!”

Bea’s father has always looked so placid whenever I’ve seen him, but right now, he looks like he could rip the entire hospital apart. He grabs hold of his son’s shirt and hauls him to his feet. Ben, now taller and broader than his father, remains slack in his father’s grip, but eyes him back with the same anger.

“Stop it! Stop it!” Bea’s mother cries out, and in a ridiculous twist of fate, it’s left to me to calm everyone down.

“Can we all just settle the hell down? The only person I give a shit about right now is fighting for her life in a hospital bed...again! Now sit down and take a damn chill pill!”

Thankfully, Ben’s father releases him, and they both sit down, though it doesn’t look like the subject is about to be dropped by either of them.

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