The Year We Fell Down (13 page)

He frowned. “When this is over, you’re going to need to be vigilant again, I’m sure you realize that.”

I nodded, embarrassed.

“Another trigger is sexual activity, both touching and intercourse,” he said. “Try to urinate before and after. Especially after.”

“That’s
really
not the issue here,” I said, turning red.

He actually laughed. “File that advice away for later, then. For now, you’ll get one night of intravenous antibiotics, Okay? You’ll conk out in a room upstairs, and in the morning we’ll release you. You’ll be gone before you know it.”

Liars.

Dana went home. I put on the stupid gown — open in the back, of course — and watched some bad TV while a nurse stuck a needle in my arm. Overnight, I was interrupted no fewer than four times, as nurses clocked my vital signs and swapped out my IV bag.

I peed about fifty times in the chilly hospital room toilet.

When morning came, I began to ask every human who wandered into my room when I could leave, from nurses’ assistants to the bringer of breakfast cereal. Unfortunately, the human I saw most often was a large, surly nurse with garishly hennaed hair. And Big Red was not helpful. “The resident will start rounds at ten,” was all she said.

I put on my underwear, jeans and socks. I transferred to my chair, but I couldn’t change my top until my IV was removed. Ten o’clock came and went. I stared at the clock, fuming.

Hartley texted me from econ class.
Yoo hoo! Did U oversleep? U R missing a stimulating lecture on international trade.

Me:
Sounds better than my day. Having a little snafu. C U back at the ranch
.

Around noon, a doctor came in. Naturally it wasn’t the youngster from last night, because that would have been too efficient. This doctor had plenty of gray hair and a hasty demeanor. He yanked my chart out of the holder and squinted at the notes. “Okay,” he said finally. “Fever’s down. I’ll leave a prescription with the nurse, and you can be on your way.”

He left.

I still had an IV in my arm. Someone brought me a plate of gray mystery meat and rice, which I did not eat.

When Big Red came back, I told her what the doctor had said. “So let’s remove this IV?”

“He didn’t leave that prescription,” she frowned. “I’ll check.” She turned to walk out.

“Wait!” I called as her wide bottom retreated.

Another hour passed, and when she came back in with my prescription, I could barely be civil. “Would you please take this out?” I begged. “And then I can go?”

She looked at my wrist as if she’d never seen an IV before. “The assistant does that. And I can’t release you without someone over eighteen to accompany you.”

“What?”

She nodded. “Students need to be picked up after a procedure.”

“But…” I felt my blood pressure double. “An IV is not a procedure!”

Big Red shrugged. “That’s the rule.” She left.

“Fuck!” I yelled, sounding like Hartley. I looked at my watch. He had his Monday afternoons free, because that’s when he should have been at Hockey.

No
. Sitting there half-dressed, I was not going to call Hartley. Anyone but Hartley. He was the last person who I wanted to see me with unwashed hair in this awful hospital gown.

Unfortunately, Dana had Italian class until two every single day. I texted her, asking me to call when she had a second. Pretty please.

Two o’clock came and went, with no call. I texted again, and she didn’t reply. If her phone was dead, I’d never reach her. I couldn’t think of what to do. If the E.R. doc who had admitted me was working today, I could try to find him and explain my problem. But that involved wandering the hospital half-dressed, with an IV tower at my side.

I dialed Dana again, putting my phone to my ear. It went right to voice-mail.

“Damn it!” I hollered. I would have stamped my feet, if only they worked.

—
Hartley

“Is there a problem in here?” I asked, fighting a smile.

Corey’s head whipped around to find me in the doorway to her hospital room, leaning on my crutches. “Arrrrgh!” she cried, curling over herself. “I just want
out
of here, but they won’t let me go.”

“Because you don’t have someone over eighteen to escort you off the premises?” I crutched into the room.

Her mouth fell open. “How did you know?”

“I ran into Dana after lunch, and she told me you were here. So I thought that might happen. And Bridger had to spring me after my knee surgery. So why didn’t you call?”

Something passed across her face that I couldn’t read. “Because it’s a long crutch from McHerrin.”

“It wasn’t too bad. So let’s get out of here. Didn’t you ask them to remove that IV?”

The look on her face threatened an imminent explosion. “ONLY TEN TIMES!”

I held up both hands. “Easy, Callahan. Watch that blood pressure, or you might end up in the
hospital
.”

At that, Corey deflated. “Would you
please
come here a second?”

“What do you need?” I made my way over to her.

She held out her left hand. “Press down on the IV tube.”

Uh oh
. “Why?”

“So I can take it
out
, Hartley. And change my shirt. And leave. And get on with my life.”

“You are a piece of work, Callahan.”

“Just press here,” she instructed. Trying not to notice the way the little tube poked right through her skin, I trapped the plastic under my thumb. Then Corey removed all the tape. “Okay, you can let go. Thanks,” she said.

Before I could look away, she yanked the little catheter out from under her skin.
Gross
. “Now you’re bleeding from the wrist. Isn’t that, like, dangerous?”

She looked at me with suspicion on her face. “Seriously, Hartley? You’re squeamish?”

I turned around and grabbed a tissue off of the counter, handing it to her, keeping my eyes trained on the wall in front of me.

“
Wow
. Tough hockey star faints at the sight of blood.” I heard her giggle as she dabbed at the blood.

“Hey, I haven’t fainted since the fifth grade.”

The giggle bloomed into a belly laugh. “What did you do after your knee surgery? Weren’t there bandages?”

There were, and it wasn’t pretty. “I changed them myself. With my eyes half-closed.”

For what it was worth, embarrassing myself had one benefit. At least Corey was smiling again. “And you say
I’m
a piece of work. Turn around so I can change my shirt.”

“What, I can’t watch? I just saw blood for you.” Chuckling, I faced the wall.

I heard her wrestling with her clothes. “I’m good with gore. You can always ask me to change a bandage. Not that we’re
ever
coming back to this godforsaken place.”

“Sing it to me, sister.”

“All done,” Corey said.

A nurse with unnaturally red hair walked in then. “
This
is your escort?” she asked, eyeing my cast and crutches, a sneer curling her lip.

Corey whirled on her. “Don’t tell me you’re
discriminating
against him,” she snapped. “We’re leaving now.” Corey wheeled around the end of the bed and bore down on the nurse. The poor woman lumbered out of the way, and Corey sailed out the door. If a wheelchair could squeal its tires, hers would have.

The nurse stuck a clipboard in my hands. “Sign here, sir.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

By the time I found her, Corey was holding the elevator door open for me.

Because my leg was aching, we called for the gimpmobile, but they told us it would be a thirty-minute wait.

“Fuck it,” I said. “Let’s walk.”

For Callahan, it was an easy roll towards campus. But for me, it was slow going. When we were about halfway back, I needed a break. Crutching over to a bench outside the medical school, I sat down. “So how did you end up in the hospital, anyway?”

She bit down on her lip. “It was just a stupid little infection. I was a little careless, and everyone overreacted.”

“Careless? This weekend?” I massaged my aching leg.

Corey’s face went stony. “I’d rather not talk about it, okay? I know you just did me a huge favor, but…” she shook her head.

“Alright. I’m just saying that we could have come back a day early. You only had to say…”

She cut me off. “I didn’t
want
to, Hartley. I’m not
fragile!
” The look on her face just cut me. She looked vulnerable, and miserable about it.

“That’s not the way it is, Callahan.” I grabbed her hands and rolled her closer to me, until our knees touched. “The thing is, we’re
all
fragile. It’s just that most of our friends are lucky enough not to know it yet.”

Her eyes blinked against exhaustion, and I wondered if she might cry. But not Corey. Not my blue-eyed fighter, the girl who dreamed of skating every night, but always had something positive to say. She humbled me every fucking day.

I tugged on her hands again, leaning forward until I could get her into an awkward hug. I don’t know if she needed one, but I sure did.

With her chin on my shoulder, she swallowed hard. “Thanks for springing me from jail, Hartley.”

“Any time, beautiful. Now let’s go home.”

Chapter Twelve:
First-Rate Hooch

—
Corey

On the first day of December, snow fell past the windows as I crutched through the dining hall. I’d been trying to spend more time on my feet, but it made everything harder. Dana waited for me at the end of a long table, where Hartley, Bridger, Fairfax, and a few others were tucking into hamburgers. When I sat down, she passed me my plate.

“Thanks,” I said.

“No biggie.” She ate a French fry. “How’s the studying going?” Classes had ended, and exams were about to begin.

“Not bad,” I said. “I have three take-home exams and then econ. I think I’m getting off easy.”

“I’m worried about Japanese,” Dana said, her cute nose wrinkling.

“But Dana, you
speak
Japanese.”

“Not as well as the professor thinks I should. And he’s such a tool. He makes everything more stressful than it should be.”

Down the table, Bridger poked Harley in the arm. “Did you tell Fairfax about the birthday present you got today?”

“Is it this week?” Fairfax asked. “Where’s the party? Are we making you do twenty-one shots?”

I raised my head. Hartley’s birthday was this week? I would need to find a gift. Of course, there was no way to top the gag gift he’d given me. Mine would have to be something more conventional.

“I don’t think any of us are invited to Hartley’s birthday,” Bridger answered. “Tell ‘em, dude.”

Hartley shook his head. “The package store delivered a bottle of champagne to me. You know, the kind that costs the GDP of a developing nation?”

“So, Stacia’s back in town,” Fairfax said.

Hartley pointed his finger like a gun at him. “Bingo. The note said:
Dear Hartley, put this on ice, I’ll be there for your big day
.”

My stomach dropped.

“Big day,” Bridger grinned. “Dude, you’re going to get spectacularly laid.”

Hartley shrugged. “The bookies should be careful with their odds. She’s been even flakier than usual lately.”

“She’ll turn up,” Bridger theorized. “She sent the bubbly.”

“Tell her you’re drinking it whether she shows up or not,” Fairfax suggested.

“Of
course
I’m drinking it,” Hartley said. “That goes without saying.”

As it happened, Hartley’s birthday fell on the Saturday before exams began. Dana and I spent the day studying in the cozy little Beaumont library. Harkness College had a seemingly infinite number of places to study. You could visit a different library every day, and not repeat for more than a month.

But even I wasn’t geeky enough to hit the books again after dinner.

“What are you up to tonight?” Dana asked carefully, fishing earrings out of her jewelry box.

“Um, watching TV?” I didn’t need to point out that my pal Hartley was unavailable for video games. But it wasn’t like there was anything else to do. During exams, the social activities ground to a halt.

“You could come with me,” Dana offered.

I laughed at the suggestion. Dana was on her way out to hear a portion of the English department’s all night reading of James Joyce’s
Ulysses
. If that didn’t showcase the nerdiness that was Harkness College during exam week, then nothing did. “But I’m not even taking that course! Do they hand out big L-shaped stickers at the door, to paste on your foreheads?”