Almost Perfect - Brian Katcher [92]
“We’ll go to Columbia, then,” I said as we pulled onto the highway.
We drove in silence for a bit until Sage leaned over and spit blood onto the floorboard.
“Who did this to you?” asked Tammi.
Sage shrugged. “A guy.”
“Who?” I asked. My knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Whoever he was, he would soon be known as the man with no teeth.
“I met him at that stupid frat party. He gave me his number, but I didn’t call him because I thought I had a boyfriend.” There were no accusations in her voice. Sage was just telling what had happened. “When you dumped me, I decided to get back at you. I thought … I thought that if you knew I went out with someone else, you’d be jealous.”
Christ, what could I say? “Sage …”
She ignored me. “So he takes me out to dinner. Takes me for a drive. Tries to kiss me.” Sage stopped and spit on the floor again.
“You told him, didn’t you?” asked Tammi gently.
Sage nodded and then grimaced. “I thought that if I was honest at first, then he might understand. The second he realized what I was saying, he smacked my face into the window.”
I wanted to turn up the radio. I wanted to tell Sage to shut up. I didn’t want to hear more about her beating. It was all my fault.
“I tried to get out of the car, and the son of a bitch followed me. He fucking tackled me, then really started pounding on me. I kept begging him to stop, but he just smiled and said he was going to fuck me up the ass. I acted like he knocked me out. That’s when he left. Then I had to walk back to where I parked the truck.”
Girlish sobs filled the cab. It was me. I was bawling. If I hadn’t been such a macho fuck, Sage wouldn’t have gotten hurt.
“Logan, watch the road!” yelled Tammi.
“Who was it?” I screamed. “I want his name!”
There was no answer.
“Who was it?”
“Logan,” groaned Sage, “I’ll never tell you. Because if you hurt him, then he’ll know why. And then everyone in the world will know why he beat me up.”
“But …”
Tammi frowned at me, and I shut up. We’d discuss this later.
University Hospital was part of the Mizzou medical school. I figured it was big enough that no one would recognize Sage. I parked in the tiny emergency lot, then helped Sage through the front doors.
“You register her,” said Tammi. “I’m going to try to get ahold of Mom and Dad. Their movie should be over by now.”
It was nearly midnight, but the waiting room wasn’t as empty as I’d hoped. An old man sat on a bench, either asleep or in a coma. A black family chatted noisily in a corner. It was impossible to tell which, if any of them, was the patient. Two EMTs wheeled a guy in a neck brace by on a gurney.
I guided Sage to the reception desk. A middle-aged woman with many decorative buttons on her uniform took our information.
“Name?”
“Sage Hendricks. H-E-N-D-R-I-C-K-S,” she spelled through a mouthful of blood.
“Date of birth?”
“September fifteenth.” The receptionist entered the information into her computer as if Sage was applying for a job.
“What year?”
“Excuse me,” I interrupted. “This is the emergency room, right?”
“Sir, there are a lot of people ahead of you.”
“Will you look at her? This isn’t Jiffy Lube, lady! She’s hurt!”
“Logan,” whispered Sage. She looked at me through her swollen eye. “I’ll be fine.”
I seethed as they filled out the huge admission form, though I nearly lost it when she asked the reason for Sage’s visit. We were told to go sit in the waiting area, but almost immediately an orderly arrived with a wheelchair. Sage touched my hand.
“Go tell Tammi.”
“Sage, I’m sorry.” My apology sounded so trite. That guy could have killed her, and all I could do was shrug my shoulders and say my bad.
The orderly wheeled her off. Sage glanced over her shoulder. I think she was about to say something, but when she opened her mouth, she winced in pain. Her chair vanished into the interior of the hospital.
I found Tammi pacing in front of the emergency room doors. Every few steps she’d get too close, and they’d automatically swish open.
“They’ve admitted her. Did you reach your parents?”
Tammi nodded.