“Oh, uh... what's wrong with her?”
“Does it matter? You're her mother! Get over here now!” I growled, feeling anger rising quickly inside me.
“Jeez, alright, no need to get worked up about it. I'll be there later.”
“No, not later, now, damn it!”
“Fine. What hospital are you at?”
I told her and she hung up, and I felt like throwing the damn phone across the room and smashing it, but I kept my composure and forced myself to remain calm.
I filled out the papers and went to the waiting room and sat, feeling angry and impatient. The dull pain in my shoulder from the gunshot wound was also throbbing, but that I could handle – it was Jane's mother's indifference that was really getting to me.
After around half an hour, Susan and her boyfriend, Rick, showed up. Susan was as pretty as ever with her big, chestnut eyes and long, flowing brown hair, and she had a killer body too, which she was gratuitously showing off in a skimpy cocktail dress. This, along with her heavy makeup, told me that she had just come from a nightclub or bar or something. Rick looked pretty wasted. He too was dressed to the nines, but with his receding hairline and chubby belly, he just looked like someone who was refusing to accept that he was no longer a 21-year-old – which, as a 36-year-old, he definitely wasn't.
“Glad you could finally make it,” I said to Susan.
“Look, I don't feel like dealing with your bull crap right now,” she said. “Just tell me what's wrong with the kid and whether we have to stay here or not.”
“What's wrong with the kid? The kid?! She's your daughter, Susan; your daughter, damn it! You could at least say her name.”
She rolled her eyes melodramatically.
“Fine. How's Jane?”
“Not good, not good at all. She's running a fever of 105 degrees.”
“Yeah, that's not good.”
At that moment, a doctor came out to speak to us.
“Are you the parents of Jane?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “I'm her father, and this is her mother.”
“Alright. Well, I have some bad news. Jane seems to have picked up a very serious stomach infection. We've given her a strong dose of antibiotics, but this infection is really giving her immune system a rough time. I would recommend that you stay here tonight. We're moving her into a room. There’s a recliner and a bench in there, they're not the most comfortable things to sleep on, unfortunately, but it can be done.”
“Oh man,” whined Susan. “I don't want to sleep on a hospital bench.”
“Are you... are you intoxicated, miss?” asked the doctor.
“We've, uh, we've had a few drinks tonight,” replied Ricky.
“You know what,” I said. “You two just go home and sleep it off. I'll stay here with Jane tonight. Go, just go. I'll call you
in the morning.”
“Oh uh, alright, but call me,” mumbled Susan. “Come on, Ricky, let's go.”
“Uh, bye, Everett,” mumbled Ricky as he and Susan stumbled out.
I stared at them in angry silence as they left, and shook my head. Still, I managed to stay relatively calm.
“The child's mother is not particularly responsible, is she?” muttered the doctor.
“No, she's not. But anyway, doc, please take me to Jane. I'd like to be with my daughter now.”
“This way, Mr. James, this way...”