For Those Who Don't Believe in Love Songs

Chapter 11 Pt 2 - Relapse

"Bed three," the nurse sitting behind the ER counter said. "The doctor's still with him but you can go in."

"Thank you," Martha said and headed for the room. The ER was subdued – no George Clooney, no one yelling "Code blue!" or "Clear!" – just unknown machines beeping and nurses filling out paperwork and talking casually. How convenient for him.

She reached the door and heard the doctor. "Must have been a thick blade." The doctor sat on a stool next to the bed as she stitched up James' forearm. She was young – early thirties, Martha guessed. Her face betrayed her exhaustion.

James sat with his legs dangling off the side of the bed. He saw Martha and waved her in with his free arm. The roll of paper underneath him made a crinkling sound with the movement. The doctor noticed her, returned to the stitching and said, "Hello."

"This is my girlfriend, Martha," James said.

"Welcome Martha," she said without looking away from the arm. Martha found a chair against the wall, next to a blood pressure machine. The doctor continued, "This was a lucky wound, Mr Quinn."

"How's that, doctor?" James asked, wincing slightly.

"Well, it got you across your extensor digitorum on the top of the arm – it's a pretty meaty stretch for a knife attack. But it was a few inches from severing the radial or ulner arteries – either of which would have resulted in significantly more blood loss."

James continued to look at Martha with a nervous smile. "Lucky me."

Martha narrowed her eyes. Lucky like being paired up in Chemistry? Lucky like happening upon a future President of the United States?

"Frequently injured?" the doctor asked.

"Why do you ask?"

"A cut this deep is painful." She finished a stitch, pulled the needle high, then returned it. "Not to mention the stitches. You seem barely affected."

"Pain don't hurt."

The doctor paused her work and smiled. "That's funny."

James smiled at Martha hopefully, but she was unimpressed. She wasn't sure how or why, but she knew James had willfully put himself in this hospital bed; had scared her to death; had... had put that creep in handcuffs?

The doctor finished. "Well, I'm no Kelly Lynch, but that should heal nicely. The nurse will be by in a little while to talk about after care."

"Thank you, doctor."

On her way to the door, she nodded. Martha reciprocated politely then she was gone. Martha turned her attention to James who sat on the bed with the same nervous expression. The stitches across his forearm didn't seem real – like overdone Halloween makeup. His blue jeans were stained from the bleeding. His maroon shirt appeared unblemished. Maroon – also 'lucky.'

"I could be wrong," James said, "but that does not appear to be the face of sympathy."

Martha was unchanged.

"You know," he continued. "I did just have a pretty nasty ex-"

"Stop," she interrupted. "I know this was your idea somehow. So... what happened?"

"Oh, why couldn't I have fallen for a simple girl?" he joked.

"Stop."

He sighed and nodded his head. "Okay. I waited for Robbie to show up and to be within the policemen's view. I approached Robbie and told him that his shaved head made him look sexy. He pulled out his knife and I let him cut me." He stopped as if it were all so simple.