Chapter 19 #2
It was then that the doctor came in, with a screech of the curtain that he then pulled back into place.
He was a young man, with country-club hair and a somewhat generically handsome Connecticut yacht club face.
Jules was hopeful he’d be sympathetic, until he spoke.
“How are we doing in here?” He had one of those Very Important baritones that resonated throughout the tiny space.
This man was far more interested in talking than listening.
“You tell me,” Jules’s mom said. “Did we get the drug test results back?”
“Not all of them, no, that could take a while,” the doctor said. “But blood alcohol levels are zero.”
“Yes, we knew that,” Mom said.
The doctor shot her a look as he picked up Jules’s chart, which was on a clipboard attached to the end of the bed. He flipped through it. “How are you feeling, son?”
Ooph, a dreaded son-caller, made worse by the fact that he was—at the most—only ten older than Jules.
Way to push his buttons, Dr. Phony. But both Hobbit and his mother were wearing nearly identical yikes faces at that wildly out-of-place son, and their synchronicity made Jules smile.
“Much better,” he said. The IV drip was making him feel almost human again.
His headache was almost entirely gone and the roiling nausea had diminished.
“That’s very good news,” the doctor intoned. “When it’s done, we’ll get you out of here. Mrs.—” he flipped back to the first page “—Cassidy, how about we step outside for a moment?”
“My son is an adult—” Mom started.
“Says here he’s only seventeen,” the doctor cut her off. “So.” He pulled back the curtain. “Please.”
Mom shot Jules a look, and he mouthed It’s okay, but she rolled her eyes, heavy with attitude as she swept out into the main part of the ER. The doctor closed the curtain behind them.
“I love your mother,” Hobbit said.
“I do, too,” Jules said. “Shh.”
They could hear the doctor’s stentorian tones clearly through the thin curtain.
“Sometimes,” he was counseling Jules’s mother, “when children are under stress—and moving to a new school is highly stressful, for even the best students, let alone... the boys who might be... struggling both grade-wise and socially.”
“Oh, fuck, son, I think he just called you both stupid and gay,” Hobbit whispered.
His polite facade had apparently left the room with Jules’s mom.
“But I honestly don’t think you qualify as struggling socially considering you’ve probably had more—and much better—sex than Dr. Hair-Do’s ever had in his entire life. ”
“Oh, my God,” Jules said, laughing in a combination of horror and genuine amusement. What exactly had he said last night? “Shh!”
The doctor was still intoning. “Sometimes children under stress act out. They seek attention.”
“Oh, fuck, son,” Hobbit said again. “He thinks you’re one of those heavy-duty hospital lying liars.”
Jules could hear his mother’s voice now, but not clearly enough to make out her words.
“Urine test just came back negative for cannabis,” the doctor announced, “which means it was something else, which is... not good news.”
More from his mother that he couldn’t hear. Did she honestly believe that Jules was lying about this? His anxiety was starting to rise.
“There are so many possibilities,” the doctor said in that voice. “We could send both his blood and urine out for further testing, but... it’s expensive, and insurance won’t cover it.”
A shorter question from his mom.
“Well, you’ll have to talk to billing about the exact cost, but... Mrs. Cassidy, with all due respect, I’d suggest you save your money and instead talk to your son. Urge him to be honest about what really happened last night.”
Jules’s mom got loud. “Are you suggesting, son, that he drugged his own soda?!”
“Oh, fuck,” Hobbit said gleefully. “She son-ed him, too. Sorry, JC, you can’t marry me because I’m gonna be your brother after I beg your mom to adopt me.”
Out in the hall, Jules’s mom was loudly reaming Dr. Phony a new one with at least one audible How dare you?
Then the curtain screeched open, and she came back in, yanking it closed behind her. “What an asshole!” She turned to Hobbit, “Excuse my accurate language!” Back to Jules. “Oh, my God, I’m so mad!”
And she was about to get more mad.
“Imagine if he’d raped me,” Jules said quietly, “the kid who spiked my soda. And the doctors and the police and even my own mother didn’t believe me.
” For the first time in his life, as he’d listened to that doctor out in the hall, he’d had a taste of what that might feel like—to not be believed. And God, it was awful.
The expression on his mother’s face was one he was pretty sure he’d remember forever, as she realized that there were girls in his school who were dealing with exactly that.
He leaned forward. “Mom, we’re so close to catching this guy.”
“You really think you can find him?”
“I do,” Jules said. “I really do.”
She nodded. “Promise me that you’ll call me when you need help.” She looked at Hobbit. “You, too, Kevin. Promise me.”
Jules nodded. “I promise,” he said.
And Hobbit promised, too.