Chapter 22 #2
“Yes.”
“And you’ve only been here a day?” She moves the stethoscope lower on Gemma’s chest, eyebrows pushed together.
“Yes, I got in late last night.”
“Huh.” The nurse moves around Gemma and listens to her lungs from the back. “Hang on a minute.” She walks briskly out of the room.
“I feel better, but I know that look. I must have gotten worse,” Gemma groans.
I sit up, looking into the hall. “I think it’s the opposite.”
The nurse comes in along with an older nurse, who listens to Gemma’s lungs as well. “You’re right,” she tells the first nurse. “Her lungs are completely clear.”
They do a head to toe assessment before leaving.
“I’m not going to be able to explain this, am I?” Gemma asks as she rakes her fingers through her messy hair.
“Nope. And if you try, they’ll just move you to the psych ward.”
I stand up and stretch. My back is stiff and sore from snoozing in that uncomfortable chair, but my head feels a little clearer. I needed that nap.
The nurse comes back in again along with the doctor, and they’re both baffled by how quickly Gemma got over her illness. The doctor says she’s putting a rush on the labs, and when the results come back, everyone is in shock.
“So, can I go home?” Gemma asks.
The doctor looks at the results one more time, shaking her head. “I have no reason to keep you here. You’re healthy.”
“I knew some sleep and antibiotics would do the trick.” Gemma smiles. She’s a nurse; she knows how unlikely all of this is. “I can be discharged, right?”
“Yeah. I would like you to continue antibiotics at home and follow up with your general practitioner as soon as you can get an appointment. I’ve never seen someone bounce back so fast.”
“I’m very responsive to medication.” Gemma takes a hair tie from around her wrist and rakes her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head.
I don’t know how she does it. The bun is messy but cute and looks like she took her time styling it.
When I twist my hair into a bun like that I look like I’m about to sell meth on a dirty street corner.
“Well, um, this is great.” The doctor is clearly flustered. She checks Gemma over once more and says she’ll put in orders for being discharged from the hospital. It takes about half an hour to get the papers signed and things squared away.
And then Gemma leaves with me.
“It’s not perfect, but it’s the best I could do.
” I set Gemma’s bag down on the bed in the guest room.
Decorating has never been my thing, and the guest room is on the bottom of my list of priorities.
The dresser and nightstand don’t match, the bed was here when I inherited the house, but the sheets are clean at least. It’ll work.
“I was living in a cellar for like a week,” Gemma says, stepping into the room. “It is perfect.” She looks around, smiling. “And your friends—boyfriends—live here?”
“Yeah. They’ll be around later.”
“Will they mind me staying for a few days?”
I shake my head. “We already talked about it. Stay until you’re ready to go home.”
“I will. Thanks, Ace.”
“You’re welcome.”
She unzips her bag and pulls out her clothes. She came home in sweat pants and an oversized T-shirt the hospital gave her.
“I’m going to take a shower and then I can help you make dinner or something.”
“Rest today and then you can make breakfast tomorrow,” I say with a smile. I make sure there are clean towels in the bathroom and tell her she’ll have to wait forever for the water to warm up. I’ve never showered in that bathroom, but I assume it’ll take as long as the master bathroom to heat up.
Grabbing laundry from my bedroom floor, I go downstairs to start a load and realize that I never put the last load I washed into the dryer. It smells all musty now, so I put it through a second wash and hope the smell comes out.
I go to the fridge, knowing I should make something instead of ordering takeout again.
I’m going to get out of shape fast eating like that, and it gets expensive ordering enough for all of us.
I pull ingredients out, thinking I might have just enough to make something with chicken. That’s as far as I get, though.
Someone knocks on the front door, and I shut the fridge, wondering who the hell that could be now. Holding my right hand out to the side, ready to summon the fire, I open the door. But there aren’t monsters or demons on my front porch.
Keri and Roger are standing in front of me, both looking very stressed.
“Hey, guys,” I say.
“Is Jared here?” Keri asks, and I remember he was supposed to come and do yard work today.
“No. I haven’t seen him. Why?”
“We can’t find him.”
Shit. “Have you called him?” I step outside.
“He left his phone.” Roger holds up a cell phone that I assume to be Jared’s. “He never leaves without it. You know how kids are these days.”
“What about his car?”
Keri shakes her head. “In the garage.” She pulls her arms around herself, trying to keep her composure. “He’s never taken off like this. I haven’t heard from him since this morning.”
Roger puts his hand on Keri’s shoulder. “I know it hasn’t been long enough to file a missing persons report, but is there anything you can do?”
“He’s a minor, so we can get people out looking for him right away. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”
“No. Though we did find a weird movie he was making on his computer.” Keri looks at Roger. “He might have met up with his techie friends. He mentioned needing a digital voice recorder to get audio for it.”
The digital voice recorder is for catching EVPs, though the kid is inventive with his lies. “Weird movie?”
“It kind of freaked me out,” Keri starts. “Though the effects are impressive. It looks so real.”
“What’s it about?”
Roger looks at me like I’m stupid for going off track. “It’s just him sitting at his desk working, and then a girl in a pink dress grabs him.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Shit.
“Grabs him?”
Keri nods. “And then they disappear.”