Carlos y Javier - June 2016 Pt 2

Twenty-four hours had passed since Javier’s admission into hospital.  He’d begun to organise his thoughts and was arguably in better mental condition than Carlos, who’d spent most of the day watching him sleep or worrying into coffee cups in the cafeteria.

“Have you brought my clothes?  They’ve taken the ones I was wearing.”

“I brought your pyjamas.  That’s all they asked me to bring.”

Javier was quiet for a moment.

“Is that how it is?”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you were on my side.  Of all people, I thought I could rely on you.”

Carlos stood up.

“What are you talking about?”

“I need to get out of here.  This place is going to kill me.  I need my clothes.”

Carlos looked at his friend in the bed.

“Have the doctors told you anything yet?”

“They’ve told me I collapsed in the plaza.  I already knew that.”

“Nothing else?  What about the tests and the observations?”

“Ah, yes.  They said they’re doing tests and observations. They’re searching for any evidence that I’m alive before signing papers to send me down to the mortuary.”

Carlos picked-up the newspaper from the bed and began reading it.  It was no use trying to speak with Javier in this mood.

“Has anyone asked about me?”

“Of course.” Carlos didn't bother looking up. “I’ve had non-stop calls and visits since yesterday.”

“What are they saying?”

“They want to know what’s wrong with you.”

“Are they asking if I’m dead?”

“No.  Your son called.  He’s taking the bus from Sevilla.”

Javier nodded.  He pulled the oxygen tube away from his nostrils.

“How did he know?”

“I rang him last night.”

“Thank you.  Why don’t you go and ask that little busy-body of a ward secretary if she knows anything?  She knows everything else that’s going on in this town.”

Carlos put his paper down and walked off between the bed-ends towards the office.

“And ask her where my clothes are.” Javier harangued from his corner.

Maria Luisa was closing her office door as Carlos arrived.  It was just before 9pm.

“Maria Luisa!”

She deliberately finished turning the key in the lock.

“Carlos!  How are you?”

“I’m fine.  Have you heard anything about Javier’s condition? What’s wrong with him?”

“Well, he was brought in dehydrated and exhausted.  The doctors are doing tests, the nurses are doing four-hourly observations and he’s on a saline infusion.  That’s it.  I don’t know the results of the tests yet, but he doesn’t seem to be in any immediate danger.  That’s all I know.”

“Do you know where his clothes are?”

“Yes.  Some are in a patient locker.  Others have been put in the hazardous waste – he cut his head when he fell.  There was a lot of blood.”

“Ah.”  “You see, he wants to go home.”

“I know. They won’t discharge him yet, Carlos.  They don’t know why he fainted.”

“It was hot.”

“It’s his age, Carlos.  Bring some fresh pyjamas tomorrow – and a set of clean clothes.  Good night.”

Maria Luisa laid her hand on Carlos’ shoulder.  “I’m sorry.” she smiled, “Let’s wait for the team to tell us what’s going on.”

Carlos watched her walk along to the lift.  He wandered back into the ward.

“Well?” asked Javier, “Where are my clothes?”

“In the bin.”  “You bled all over them, and now you’re staying here until the doctors know what’s wrong with you.”  Carlos picked the paper up and sat down.

Javier angrily whipped the bedsheet back and tried to swing his legs over the side, stopping with a gut-wrenching wince.

“Jesus!”

Carlos looked at the canula that had almost jerked clear of Javier’s hand – blood was oozing from the wound.  But Javier was staring wide-eyed at the clear tube running urine from the end of his penis.

“Jesus!”  “I knew they’d done something.  I knew it!”

Carlos stood up and drew the sheet over the lower part of Javier’s body. 

“For God’s sake, I’m going to get a nurse.  Wait here.”

Javier’s laugh could be heard all along the corridor.  Carlos didn’t need to go looking.

He was ushered into the corridor to wait as the nurses re-fixed Javier’s canula.  Carlos could hear them scolding him.  Javier was giving as good as he got. 

“And what’s this?  You’ve taken me prisoner!  Nobody asked me about this. Nobody!”

The nurses filed back out with their plastic aprons rustling.  One of them looked curiously at Carlos as they passed.  He walked back to Javier’s corner feeling slightly nervous.

Javier had his head set neatly on the pillow, eyes closed, oxygen in his nostrils.  Carlos sat beside him and watched.

When it seemed that Javier might be sleeping, Carlos looked at his watch and mentally prepared to leave.

Javier mumbled.

Carlos leant closer.  “What did you say?”

“I said ‘Go home.’” His voice was barely above a whisper.  “There’s nothing you can do here.”

A small tear of frustration had formed in the corner of his eye.