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‘Don’t worry, I’m used to it.’ The nurse grinned as he walked away.
‘I’m going to give you something for the nausea, and some more pain relief,’ the doctor stated.
Ahh ... much better now.They must have given her a higher dose than the paramedics did, because the pain hadmostly subsided and a comforting grogginess floated inside her head.This is better than chocolate.
The nurse returned to her bedside.
‘Are you ... the one I puked on?’ Miranda slurred.
‘That would be me,’ he replied.
‘M-A-T-T … Matt,’ Miranda read his nametag. ‘I’m Miraannda. M-I-R-A-N-D-A,’ she spelled it out, surprisingly correct given her drug-induced drowsiness. She’d always been the best speller at school, proudly spelling anything and everything she could, as often as she could. Why she chose this moment to allow her talent to resurface she didn’t know. ‘M--I--R--A--N--D--A’ she repeated slowly. ‘Hey ... Maaatt? Did you really cut off ma dress?’
‘Yes. Sorry, Miranda.’
She tried to prop herself up on her elbows but slipped. ‘That cos me a fortune it did!’
‘I’m terribly sorry.’
‘Yur a jerk!’ She tried and failed to throw a punch. ‘J-U-R-K.’ She tried to write the letters in mid-air, then giggled. ‘But yur a cute jerk.’ The soft support of the pillow behind her head beckoned her and she promptly fell asleep.
After what seemedlike minutes but was probably more like an hour, Miranda opened her eyes and Trisha’s face came into focus.
‘Hey ... how’re you feeling?’
‘Been better,’ Miranda slurred.
‘The doctor said you’ll be here overnight.’
‘Wish I could go home ... ow!’ She tried to change position but her ribs wouldn’t let her.
‘I know. I’ve called your mum to let her know what happened. And I’ll come back first thing tomorrow and bring some clothes, okay?’ Trisha held Miranda’s hand.
‘Thanks. I need some ... they took my dress, the jerks.’
Trisha smiled. ‘I thought as much. Don’t worry, it’s not important. What’s important is that you’re okay.’
‘I’d rather be okayandhave my dress, but I guess ... I can’t be picky.’ Miranda attempted a smile, then noticed two figures standing at the foot of the bed; Shane, and – oh God – Simon! She hadn’t even been formally introduced, and here he was at her hospital bed. She mouthed a ‘sorry’, then her surroundings blurred as her eyelids drooped closed again.
She woketo a nurse adjusting something above her. ‘Hi, Miranda, I’m Caroline, how are you feeling?’
‘Um, head feels a little better, but ... still hurts here.’ She pointed to her chest ‘When I breathe.’
Caroline nodded, then fiddled with the tube sticking into the back of her hand.
‘Where’s ... Matt?’ Miranda asked.
‘He had a family emergency and had to leave. I’ll be looking after you tonight.’
After the doctor came to check on her again, and the nurse did some more fiddling, Miranda was left alone to rest. She felt like she had front row seats to a boring repeat episode of ER. It was busy, but nothing major seemed to be going on.
Until ... a beeping sounded from the bed across from her. People zoomed in, someone pushed a trolley of some kind,and they attached things to the patient’s chest. From what she could see, he was an overweight man with dark hair.
Like her father.
Doctors and nurses spoke urgently in their foreign language, and one of them yanked the curtain closed. It didn’t close the whole way, though, and Miranda could see through the gap. Someone shouted, ‘Clear!’ and the man’s body jerked up and down.
Miranda’s heart seemed to skip a beat. She remembered hearing that same word after she and her mother were ushered out of her father’s hospital room twenty-one years ago. When they were allowed back in, it was to say goodbye. Her dad’s cold body lay still as she grasped his lifeless hand, her mother’s hair splayed as she sobbed over his chest.
