Moonshifted(28)

The trauma from the gunshot, the bullet’s cavitations, or the subsequent swelling had done an odd number on his spine. It had already rendered him unable to move, and as his injury progressed his ability to feel was being stolen away from him, one centimeter at a time. The outgoing nurse and I checked the IV drips together and probed along his side. When we found the spot where feeling ended, we drew another dot with a purple Sharpie, like we were turning him into a connect-the-dots paper doll, one dot after the next. The wailing in Spanish didn’t stop.

I took advantage of the old nurse leaving the room to leave myself, co-signing the chart, rifling through the history and progress notes.

Truth was, I was hiding.

In nursing school we went to some cultural classes, but they weren’t so much about learning about other cultures as they were Being Nice to people with different beliefs. That part had worked so well that I could now Be Nice to vampires, so surely I could deal with anything here. But part of me always remembered that time I’d asked a patient if he was frijoles, instead of frío.

I read the chart for a bit, trying to look official, and found out what I already knew: Javier Rodriguez, male, aged eighteen, was inside. And this would be the last night he had feeling below his neck.

I closed the chart, said a silent prayer hoping that the doctors had already answered all of the hard questions in eloquent Spanish, and went inside.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN





Javier had short dark hair and wide shoulders. He was dressed in a hospital gown and had a plastic collar on, protecting his neck from any pressure or torque.

Standing over him and stroking his hair was his sister—or maybe his girlfriend. She was strikingly beautiful. High, precise brows over wide, heavily made-up eyes; lips outlined in red, with the lipstick fading in between, from time spent kissing Javier’s forehead. Her straight black hair spilled down the bed to his armpits.

“Hi. I’m Edie, I’m going to be your nurse for the next four hours,” I said over the sound of his crying mother. He grunted.

I ran the blood pressure cuff, took his temperature, felt for pulses, listened to lungs. A small dressing beneath his right clavicle was stained with the color of old blood. I took a Sharpie and drew its boundaries, just in case it opened up again.

“Are you in any pain?”

Javier flicked dark eyes toward me, then back at the ceiling. “No. Never.”

The woman standing beside him nodded and resumed petting him. His mom kept sobbing, wordless sounds.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” I asked him, then included the room at large.

“Café,” said the not-crying woman. She was definitely the girlfriend. I knew from the way I saw her look at him now.

“Certainly,” I said, and retreated out the door.

* * *

I walked down the row of other rooms on the trauma floor. None of them had happy people inside. That, multiplied by the time of year, made everything particularly grim. I went to the room labeled NUTRITION, like it was from Star Trek, and made an instant coffee. While I was loading up an extra Styrofoam cup with powdered creamer and sugar, the overhead intercom announced that visiting hours were over for the night.

The charge nurse called to me as I passed her desk on my way back. “Hey, float. Send all those people home.”

It took me a second to realize who she meant. “All of them? Can’t someone stay?”

“We don’t allow that here.”

I frowned at her. She didn’t look up to see it. “He can feel things now but by tomorrow morning, he’ll be insensate,” I said.

“So?”

Seen it all, done it all, are you stupid? I tried another tack. “It’s Christmas.”

“Only till midnight. Then it’s December twenty-sixth.”

“So someone can stay till midnight?” I asked, trying to work in some innocence and charm. I really didn’t want to be the bad guy. Not this time.

She stopped typing and turned toward me. “One person. And that person better have a ride home, we’re out of bus passes.”

I’d take what I could get. “Okay. Thanks.”

She went back to typing on her computer, without response.

* * *

I slunk back to Javier’s room with the good-bad news. “I got permission for one of you all to stay till midnight.” I hated myself a little for hoping the designated visitor didn’t wind up being his mom.

“Luz,” Javier said, in a whisper. I was sure who he meant.

Javier’s mother started crying again, and blotting at her face—at this rate, the other eyebrow didn’t stand a chance. I stood outside the room while they said their good-byes. They hugged him. It would be the last time he was able to feel it. There was a knot at the back of my throat, and all the swallowing in the world couldn’t get it to go away. I felt like I was spying, so I opened up my chart and tried to disappear.