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Drew Hunt
26
because "patients had to get all spick and span for breakfast'. God, the food was awful. I'd have
preferred to sleep through it.
I quietly pulled a chair next to Mark's bed, although not before taking a peek at his chart. I was
able to learn Mark's hands which I could see were bandaged had received moderate chemical
burns. The doctors predicted a full recovery apart from the possibility of slight scarring. Mark
had a few minor cuts and bruises, but nothing too severe. The chart said he was twenty years of
age. I'd never actually got around to asking him how old he was.
The relief I felt that he'd live, that he'd be okay, overwhelmed me. For the past half hour or so I'd
been gripped by a fear I might lose him, or he'd be badly scarred, or...I didn't care even if he was
scarred. I loved him. I finally admitted the fact to myself I loved the beautiful, kind, gentle man
lying in that hospital bed. I began to cry.
"Hey, it's me who ought to be crying."
Mark's soft, croaky voice brought me back from my thoughts. "Hey, Mark," I said. Wow, what a
bloody inane thing to say. "How are you? Are you in much pain?"
"These hurt sometimes," he said, holding up his hands. "But they give me pills which take away
the pain for a while."
"How long have you been in here? I wished you'd called me, or asked one of the nurses to."
"Just over a week. I thought about you, but...I didn't want to be a burden."
"Mark, you're never a burden. I found out from a guy on Gamble Street I think he's a friend of
yours: dark hair, kind of bushy eyebrows, pierced left ear with a gold hoop in it "
"Sounds like Sammo."
"Okay, well, until I spoke to Sammo I had no idea you'd been hurt. Sammo didn't know how bad
you were. So I got here as fast as my legs and the number 14 could carry me."
He gave a weak smile.
"Sammo told me there was an explosion. Something to do with Jake trying to make drugs or
something."
"Yeah, he'd got some stupid idea about making more money, but I guess he didn't know what he
was doing. I was in the room next door when I heard a really loud bang. I went in to see what I
could do. It was horrible. They were screaming and carrying on. I got some of the stuff on my
hands, and it bloody hurt."
"You know Jake died, don't you?"
Fireside Romance 1: First Flames
27
"Yeah, one of the policemen who interviewed me told me. Can't say I'm sorry. Jake was an evil
bastard."
I'd never heard Mark swear before, but I couldn't help agreeing with him.
"When are they letting you out?"
"I don't know. They'll have to find somewhere for me to go. Can't go back to Jake's. The Council
has boarded it up, and with these hands..." He looked down at his bandages.
I had a decision to make. I could help Mark. I could look after him, nurse him, and God help
me love him. I thought it unlikely Mark could love me back, but as I sat there I became
absolutely certain I had a duty to help him. Given what Mark had told Sammo, I thought Mark at
least liked me as a friend. Certainly his behaviour towards me was that of a friend. So with a
determination the likes of which I hadn't felt in years I stood up.
"Have to go to the lav, back in a minute."
I didn't need to use the toilet, but I was on a mission, a mission to help Mark. I left the bay where
Mark's bed was, turned the corner and went towards the ward sister's office. Finding the door
partially open, I knocked.
"Come in," a female voice answered.
I pushed the door open to reveal a forty-something, plump woman wearing a dark blue uniform
dress sitting behind a desk.
"Sister, sorry to bother you. Have you got a minute?"
She smiled tiredly. I could tell she was over-worked. "Of course. How can I help?"
"It's about Mark Smith in bed eleven." I took the seat she pointed to.
"Yes?"
"I'm assuming the only reason he's still with you is that he has nowhere else to go, and given the
fact that he can't use his hands, you can't discharge him until you've found somewhere for him."
"Are you a relative?"
I shook my head. "I'm a friend. Mark's mother is dead, he's estranged from his father, and he has
no brothers or sisters."
I actually didn't know if Mark had any siblings, but I didn't think telling such a lie if lie it
was would hurt. Besides, any brother or sister who could stand back and not help Mark when
his father did what he did, wasn't worth much.
Drew Hunt
28
"You are correct, Mister..." She hesitated, not knowing my name.
"Peters, Simon Peters."
"Mr. Peters. It's true Mr. Smith doesn't need medical care as such."
I nodded. "I only just found out he'd been hurt. I lo...I mean I'm sure I'll be able to cope. So long
as he gets a professional to change his dressings."
She smiled; she knew what I'd almost said. "Mr. Smith can't do very much for himself."
"Yes, Sister, I know I'll have to feed him, bathe him, even attend him while he uses the toilet."
This was a polite way of saying I'd have to wipe his bum. I'd do that in a heartbeat. "I guess it's a
bit like looking after a baby; you have to do everything for them."
"It's similar," she smiled again, "although you'll have to cope with his mood swings if he
develops them. Patients who can't do things for themselves tend to get very frustrated."
I nodded. "I'm sure I can cope. Besides, it's almost Christmas, and I'd hate to think of him stuck
in here when he could be at home with me."
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