She shook her head. “When I, um, got stabbed, they didn’t put me under all the way, just a local so they could stitch me up. They told me I had lost so much blood that I was in shock, so I probably drifted in and out of consciousness the whole time. And the other time I was in the hospital, so they could re-set a broken arm, I don’t remember much about that. I was only nine or ten.”
“How’d you break your arm?” he inquired.
She scowled ferociously. “Some punk ass older kid at school shoved me to the ground. He must have outweighed me by fifty pounds at least. But once I was on the mend I got back at him big time. I knew where he lived, so one morning while it was still dark outside I snuck around the side of his house. He rode this super expensive tricked out bike to school, bragged about it to everyone. So not only did I slash all four tires, I poured a whole jar of molasses over the gears. Finally, just for good measure, I tossed a bag of dog poop I’d found lying in the gutter on the bike seat and set it on fire. Pretty sure his parents had to buy him a new bike after all that.”
David stared at her in horror, and then laughed until tears started trickling out the corner of his eyes. “My God,” he murmured in awed admiration. “You are a bloodthirsty, vengeful little creature, aren’t you?”
“Yep,” she admitted proudly. “And I managed all of that with just one good arm, since the other was in a cast and sling.”
“Did he realize you were the one who’d vandalized his bike?”
“Probably,” she replied matter-of-factly. “But whether he did or not, he never messed with me again.”
David shuddered. “I would hope not. You’re a little terrifying, Ms. Strohman. Anyone ever tell you that?”
Scarlett grinned. “A few times, yeah. Though I’m guessing right about now I look terrifying for a whole different reason. I feel like I’ve had the worst beating of my life. Hell, I’m not sure getting stabbed hurt this much.”
He winced, giving her shoulder a little squeeze. “I’m so sorry you had such a bad reaction, Scarlett. I think perhaps the fact that you’re such a tiny thing caused the anesthesia to hit you harder than we expected. But the worst of the reaction should be over now, and I’ll get you those pain meds right away. Be back in a couple of minutes.”
She grimaced as she shifted about in the bed, still trying to find a position where the pain in her posterior wouldn’t throb like a son of a bitch. Her throat was killing her, too, the result of having had a tube stuck down her trachea to administer the anesthesia. Connie had assured her the worst of the soreness would go away after a couple of days. Scarlett just hoped the pain meds Doctor Parks had promised her would help with the sore throat as well as her sore backside.
“Here we go.” David reappeared with a syringe in hand, which he smoothly injected into the IV catheter. “Less risk to administer it this way, especially since you weren’t able to keep even liquids down. Plus, the meds will get into your system faster this way and give you some relief. We should be able to remove the IV tomorrow morning, though. Hopefully the aftereffects of the anesthesia will have abated by then so you can try and eat and drink a little.”
She heaved a sigh of frustration. “Sounds like I’ve got to stay in this place overnight then, huh?”
He nodded. “Yup. Afraid so, like it or not. Though of course we’ll be moving you in a few minutes to a private room. It’ll be a lot quieter and more comfortable there.”
“Just add it to my tab,” she retorted sardonically. “Or to whoever the person paying for all this is. My fa - I mean, Hannah’s - uh, well, you know who I mean.” She glanced around anxiously, making sure no one could overhear their conversation.
“I do,” assured David. “And, yes, I will very happily add all of the costs of your hospital stay to his tab. It’s the very, very least he can do.”
“How, um, is she, anyway?” ventured Scarlett.
“Too soon to tell. We’re administering the infusion in three separate doses. Doing it a little at a time gives the patient a better chance of absorbing it into their cells. After all of the infusions are done, then we wait and see, make sure the new cells engraft properly, check to see if the blood counts begin to return to normal. It’ll be weeks, maybe even a couple of months, before we know for sure.”
“Oh. Well, I, uh, hope everything goes well for her,” finished Scarlett lamely.
“All of us do. But she’s got round the clock care, and lots of family and friends pulling for her. Speaking of which.”
David wheeled over a padded stool then and sat down by her bedside, placing a warm hand over one of hers that was still ice cold. “Who’s pulling for you?” he asked somberly. “Who’s looking out for your wellbeing? Who worries about you?”
Scarlett blinked back tears furiously at the kindness of his tone. “I do,” she hissed. “I’ve been looking out for myself for a very long time. I don’t need a damned keeper or someone to cry over me. And I sure as hell don’t need anyone’s prayers or pity.”
“Maybe not,” replied David blandly. “However, what you do need is a lot of rest, some good, nourishing food so you can gain fifteen to twenty pounds, and a multivitamin or two to supplement some of the nutrients your system is deficient in, in particular a high dose iron supplement. The bloodwork we did in my office this past weekend shows that you’re quite anemic, and definitely rundown. I’d recommend taking at least a month off from work after you return home.”
“Nope.” She shook her head firmly. “I agreed to two weeks, and not another day longer. So load me up with whatever pills you need to shove down my throat and I’ll be fine. I may be skinny but I’m way tougher than I look.”
“I don’t doubt you believe that. However, I have test results that say otherwise. Look, Scarlett, if it’s a question of money, of not being able to afford taking that much time off work, I’ll speak to Neil about that. Or, even better, to Jackson. I know he’ll - ”
“No!” protested Scarlett, struggling to sit up as she pointed a finger at the doctor. “Leave him out of this, all right? He doesn’t give a damn about me now that they got what they wanted. Now that precious Hannah got her bone marrow transplant, I’m back to being the other daughter - the one no one’s supposed to know about. And the one nobody gives a shit about. I haven’t heard a single goddamn word from either of them in more than a week, not even a one line text to ask if everything’s okay. My useless father - well, no surprise there. He’s as useless as ever. But Jackson - well, it’s pretty obvious that I’m not needed or wanted any longer. I’ve done what they asked me to do, so now it’s time for me to go back where I came from so they can get on with their lives. You sure I have to stay in this fucking hospital overnight? Because I’d just as soon hop on a plane tonight and get the hell out of this town.”
The look of compassion on David’s face made her feel alternately furious and deeply touched. This time around he was the one who looked as though he was about to cry. Instead, he merely gave her hand another squeeze.