“I’ve got things to do,” I tell her. “And being here isn’t going to help anything.”
“You could rest here,” she makes her way across the room, and stops next to me, her hands on my shoulders. She palpates my tender body, feeling for… I don’t know what. Her fingers linger on my chest. “I would take very good care of you.”
I’m startled because her tone has just gotten very suggestive and I know I’m not imagining it.
She smiles slightly, and I move away, out of her reach.
“That’s ok,” I tell her firmly. “My wife will take good care of me at home.”
The nurse isn’t bothered. “She’s not trained like I am,” she points out, and she turns off the monitors, and bends slowly in front of me to straighten the pillow that I’m not even using. Her ass is in the air in front of me. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Holy shit.
“How unprofessional,” I say. I’m not harsh, and I’m not mean, but there’s one thing I’ve learned in life. You have to be direct for people to understand you.
She pauses, assessing me, assessing my interest.
When she sees that I’m not interested, at all, she straightens and is back to business, pretending that she hadn’t spoken.
She hands me a paper. “These are your discharge instructions,” she says, and she’s perfunctory now. “You need to follow up with your physician, you should avoid physical activity until your doctor clears you. Take it easy because you’re going to be sore for a while. Here is a script for pain medication. Because of your history, they are non-narcotic, but they will still help. You’re going to need them. You’re pretty banged up.”
“You think?” I ask dryly, wincing again as I move.
“Don’t try to be a tough guy,” she advises. “You need to stay in front of the pain. So if the instructions say take two every four hours, do it.”
I nod. “Fine. Thank you.”
She pauses at the door, and looks at me one more time. “Do you need anything else?”
She appears to be hopeful. Jesus.
“No, thanks,” I tell her.
“Well, if you change your mind, press the ‘call’ button.”
She disappears and I exhale. Is that what women are like nowadays? I’ve been off the market for five years, but I swear, some women see a wedding ring as a challenge.
I am quickly distracted though, because I hear the thud of small sneakered feet and then girlish shrieks.
“Daddy!” Zuzu bounds into the room, her blond curls bouncing as she leaps up next to me. I swallow hard from being jostled.
“Punkin,” I hug her with one arm, and she smells like sunshine and little girl. “I missed you.”
She looks up at me with green eyes just like her mama’s. “Mommy says you hurt yourself.”
“Well, yeah. I guess I did. But I’m ok,” I assure her.
Mila steps into the room. “If you’d stop stepping in front of moving vehicles, you’d be perfect.”
I chuckle. “I hope you’re here to spring me out.”
“Only if you promise to be a good boy,” she says sassily, and her eye gleam as she approaches. “Be careful with daddy,” she tells Zu. “He’s fragile.”
I roll my eyes and heft myself up. “I’ll show you fragile,” I grumble under my breath. My wife just laughs.
“You ready to go home?” she asks, her eyebrow raised. “Or were you wanting to sleep here another night?”
“Let’s get the f…” I pause, eying my daughter. “Flock out.”