Flamethrower - Maggie Estep [26]
Doctor Parrish was a middle-aged man of medium build. He had kind eyes and a high, intelligent forehead. Ruby found him beautiful.
“Bad day, huh?” Dr. Parrish said.
“Not the best,” Ruby agreed.
She told him what had happened. Sort of. Leaving out a few key details and painting the whole thing as an accident.
“At least I can go home and go to bed now,” Ruby said.
“Ruby, we need to admit you for observation,” Doctor Parrish said, using the foreboding we. Ruby was never sure what the we encompassed. We was like they. Whenever Ruby used they, Ed invariably asked, “Who’s they? The Van Patten Family?”
“I can’t afford a night in the hospital. You know that,” she told the doctor.
“I’m sorry, Ruby. It’s just a precautionary measure.”
Ruby knew that he couldn’t advise her to leave.
“I’ll check on you in the morning,” he said, even though Ruby knew that he knew she wouldn’t be there in the morning. “Try to stay out of trouble, will you?”
Ruby smiled weakly as Doctor Parrish vanished beyond the curtain.
The hospital smelled of sickness and cheap sheets, and the glare of overhead fluorescents seemed designed to provoke migraines. All the same, Ruby didn’t hate hospitals the way most people did. They were places where fascinating and brutal things happened in high concentrations. But she couldn’t afford to spend a night there as a sociological experiment. She sat up and put her feet on the floor. After a few minutes, she stood. She noticed she was wearing a hospital gown and, with effort, bent down to look under the stretcher, where she found a bag containing her clothes. She pulled it out and stood back up, getting a head rush in the process. As she dumped the clothes onto the bed, she realized that strangers had stripped her and she didn’t remember it happening. She got dressed then pulled the curtain back. Nurses and orderlies were bustling down a hall lined with stretchers and IV poles. Ruby spotted a bathroom across the hall and went in to fix herself up.
Her left eye was swollen and bruised, and a big gauze bandage was covering most of her forehead. Someone had pulled her hair back into a ponytail, but there was still blood matted near the hairline. Her lips were dry and chapped, and on her cheek there was a little cut that she didn’t remember seeing before. Ruby washed her hands and patted her face with cold water. She emerged from the bathroom, looked up and down the hall, and then started walking. At the end of the hall, she found a door leading to the stairs. She went down slowly, holding on to the railing. Her head felt heavy on her neck, and she had to concentrate on where she put her feet.
Ruby reached the lobby and walked to the revolving doors that spat her onto the street.
The day’s brightness was fading, casting bawdy pink light over the traffic snaking its way down York Avenue. Ruby stood at the curb, waiting for the light to change. Her vision was blurry and she was weak. She leaned against a signpost as she dug her phone out and dialed Ed’s number at the barn. He picked up on the fifth ring.
“Yes,” he said, sounding cold and businesslike even though he must have known it was Ruby calling.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“What,” he said.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m busy.”
“Oh.” She waited for Ed to say something more.
“Where’ve you been all day?”
“You’ll never believe what happened to me.”
“Why not?” His voice was ice.
“What’s wrong, Ed?”
“I’m not gonna make it home tonight.”
“What? Why? Is Juan okay?”
“Juan’s okay. I just won’t be coming home.”
To Ruby’s horror, Ed hung up on her.
She stared at the phone.
Horns honked, pedestrians cursed, and the sky darkened. Ruby dialed Ed’s number again. It rang eight times then went to voice mail. She clicked her phone shut and sat down, right on the curb of the busy avenue. She fumbled for