14. Quentin
Chapter fourteen
Quentin
The air was stuffy in the staff room of Kennedy High School, and I was eager to get out of there and go home. I stood at the copy machine to prepare some worksheets for tomorrow’s lessons, and Marianne Kowalski was next to me, talking my ear off.
Marianne was a gray-haired woman just a few years from retirement. She was kind and polite and a wonderful teacher. I liked her a lot. In fact, I considered us somewhat friends, and I usually enjoyed talking to her, but that day, I was struggling to focus on her words. Even pushing the right buttons on the copy machine was a challenge.
“…so I decided to talk to his homeroom teacher about it.”
“Hmm.” That was all I could muster.
“Do you think I was out of line?”
“What?”
Marianne sighed. “What is the matter with you, Quentin? These past few days, you’ve been walking around the school like a zombie. ”
She sounded concerned, so I forced a smile. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me.”
“Is it about your mother?” Marianne asked. “Is she getting worse?”
My mother was definitely getting worse, but for once, she was not the woman in my life I was worried about.
“Something like that,” I said to appease Marianne. “Have a nice afternoon.”
Before she could inquire any further, I hastily stuffed my papers into my bag and left the room, heading for the parking lot.
My loss of composure was getting pathetic. I was a grown man acting like a lovesick schoolboy. I told myself again and again that I was being ridiculous, that I needed to be rational about my attraction to her, but the longing just wouldn’t go away.
I caught a glimpse of my own reflection in my car’s side s I got behind the steering wheel and cringed. I always disliked looking at mirrors, seeing the ruin that had once been my face and body, but now it had a special kind of sting. If not for my scars, I would’ve asked her out a long time ago. Maybe, if I were still whole, I would’ve had a chance with her.
The pop ballad playing on the radio did little to help my emotional state, so I switched to the news channel. I had to find a way to make my inappropriate feelings stop. I might not have been exactly happy before I met Kelsey, but I was safe, comfortable in my reclusion. The feelings I’d developed for her had torn open wounds that had been scabbed over for years.
I parked my car in front of the Sunset Apartments and walked up the stairs, half afraid of running into her, half hoping for it.
I hur my steps when I walked past her door. All I wanted was to get home and hide from the world and maybe talk things through with George Washington again. I already had my keys in the fob when I heard a noise .
A voice was coming from nearby. I froze and listened.
“Help!” It was weak, but I instantly recognized her.
Arlene! I stuffed my keys back into my pocket and sprinted toward her door.
“Arlene?” I yelled as I hammered on her door. “Arlene, are you there?”
“Quentin?” Her voice sounded scarily faint. “Quentin, help me!”
“Can you open the door for me?”
“No, I can’t. I can’t get up.” She sounded like she was in pain.
I did not hesitate. “Watch out!” I yelled before kicking the door. I hit it just right. It sent a sharp pain up my leg, but the lock broke, and the door swung open. I pushed through and into Arlene’s apartment.
“Arlene, where are you?” I called.
“In the bathroom.”
And there she was—lying on the wet tiles, shivering, only a small towel covering her body, her face bunched up in pain.
“Quentin, oh thank God.” She reached out to me with a shaky hand.
After taking a bathrobe from a hook on the bathroom door, I gently placed it around her, covering her.
“Thank you, dear.”
“Can you sit up?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe with your help.”
Wrapping my arms around her, I tried lifting her into a sitting position, but she cried out in pain and grabbed her left hip.
Carefully, I let her back down, bunching up the towel to put it under her head.
I took her hand and pressed it. “I think you’ve broken your leg.”
Arlene nodded. “I think so too.”
“I’ll call an ambulance for you.”
The paramedics arrived fifteen minutes later. I tried to call Leah while they were carefully moving Arlene on a stretcher, but only the mailbox answered.
“I can’t reach Leah,” I told Arlene. “Is there anyone else I should call?”
Arlene shook her head, wincing as the pain washed over her, her face growing paler by the second. One of the paramedics had started an IV line, hopefully for pain medication.
“Leah is the only one nearby,” Arlene said. “But I’m sure I can fend for myself for a few hours.”
“You’ll be taken care of,” the paramedic reassured her.
“I’m coming with you. What hospital are you going to?” I asked the man.
“Emerald Valley General Hospital, sir.”
Arlene took my hand. “Quentin, this is very sweet of you, but you don’t have to. I know you don’t like—”
“I won’t leave you alone,” I said decidedly. “I’ll take my own car and meet you there.”
As soon as the paramedics carried Arlene out, I searched the apartment for a bag I could pack for Arlene. I found a large backpack in the corner of the kitchen and hastily stuffed clothes and toiletries in, trying not to make too big a mess of the cupboards. Ideally, Leah would be doing this for her grandmother, but I had no idea when I could get a hold of her, and Arlene needed things for her hospital stay.
I threw the bag over my shoulder, left the building, and got into my car. My fingers started shaking when I typed the name of the hospital into my navigation system. I’d spent enough time in hospitals to last me a lifetime. It was the last place on earth I wanted to go, but Arlene needed someone there. I knew how it felt to be scared and in pain and all alone in a strange, sterile room. I knew that all too well, and I would not let that happen to Arlene. She had always looked out for me, so I was going to take care of her, at least until Leah arrived.
My resolve fell apart when I walked through the doors of the emergency room. The smell hit me first—disinfectant mixed with body fluids and human suffering. It made me queasy, and the sounds echoed in my head: the chattering of the nurses, pained groaning, angry yelling, confused babbling, and the unrelenting beeping of a hundred machines.
My throat tightened, and I forced myself to take deep breaths, but that somehow made it worse. I caught the smell of burning flesh. Instinctively, I looked down at my body, as if I expected to find my own burned skin searing hot again. Then the smell was gone again, just my mind playing tricks on me. I balled my fists and forced my breathing to steady.
With shaky legs, I walked up to the receptionist. Getting her attention took me a bit of effort, but I finally managed to get her to notice me.
“I’m looking for Arlene Miller,” I said, “I’m a friend. And I brought her things.” I lifted the bag to show.
The nurse leaned over to check her screen. “Curtain four,” she said. “Just walk straight through.”
My heart was still racing, its rapid thumping echoing in my chest as I fought the urge to flee the hospital. Clutching Arlene’s backpack handle with all my strength to steady myself, I maneuvered through the crowded emergency room, filled with patients nursing their injuries and ailments, along with worried friends and family.
I found Arlene in one of the dozen beds in the main bay of the emergency room. She was wearing a hospital gown and was attached to an IV and a beeping monitor.
Relief washed over her face when I pulled the curtain away.
“I brought you some things,” I said and sat down on the chair next to her gurney. “How do you feel? ”
“Better,” she said. “Maybe it’s not broken after all.”
I looked at her leg. Even half hidden under her blanket, it didn’t look too good. “It looks broken to me, Arlene. It must be the pain medication making you feel better.” I tried to sound calm for her sake, but I could tell it wasn’t working.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” I lied. I wasn’t fine at all. I was sweating, my hands were shaking, and my fingers tingled, and I could tell Arlene had noticed all of it.
“You can leave if you want, Quentin. I’m a big girl. I can be on my own for a while.”
“No.” I had to do this. For some reason I didn’t quite understand, I had to do this for Arlene. “I’m staying until Leah gets here.”
“Did you manage to get in touch with her?”
“I called her twice already, but no luck so far. I left her a message on her voice mail.”
“I’m sure she will be here soon,” Arlene said.
She took my hand. I didn’t know if she was trying to calm herself or me.
A pained groan came from the other side of the curtain, startling me. Arlene pressed my hand.
“Maybe you should try calling her again,” she suggested.
“Good idea.” With sweaty fingers, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed Leah’s number again. The phone was ringing. I prayed she would answer because I needed this ordeal to be over soon. I didn’t want to abandon Arlene, but I couldn’t hold myself together for much longer.
The man in the next cubicle groaned again.
“Hey, this is Leah. I can’t answer right now. Leave me a message, or— ”
I disconnected the call. Damn it.
I nearly dropped my phone on the floor when a scream made me jolt from the chair.
“Make it stop! Make it stop!” someone was yelling, and the agony in his voice made my entire body tense up.
People were talking beyond our curtain. Paramedics, nurses, doctors, barking at each other, words like laceration and fracture .
“Help me! Make it stop!” The screams got louder as they wheeled the patient past us, piercing my ears, shaking me to my very core.
Steady breaths , I reminded myself. My hands clenched into tight fists, my knuckles turning white as I struggled to regain control. You are safe. You are not in Afghanistan. You are not in danger. You are not hurt. You are safe. I felt dizzy. It was all too much. I needed to get out of there as soon as possible.
Without fully registering what my fingers were doing, I scrolled through my contact list and called Kelsey.