Not Me: Post Time Skip, Part Four
Amanda woke up to the sound of whispering. Her eyes still felt heavy, so she kept them closed and listened in on the whispered conversation. More rest and eavesdropping; it was a win win situation in her opinion.
“It will only take a few minutes, son,” said an unfamiliar masculine voice.
“I’m not leaving her.” Mark. That was definitely Mark. Mandy did not have much experience hearing him whisper, because he was generally a loud person, but she easily recognized the whisper as his. “What if she wakes up? She can’t be alone.”
That was… incredibly sweet. She would choose to ignore the assumption that she was not a completely independent person, just this once. There was a pause, and Mandy could just imagine the other man shaking his head at Mark, thinking something about young people these days.
“Okay, then. You’ll need to tell me about how the accident happened.”
Oh. So it was probably a police officer. And somehow he hadn’t realized how drunk Mark had been? That seemed odd, but she wasn’t about to complain. Mandy just hoped that Mark would be able to pull this off. It was wrong of her to hope that he would get away with a crime, but she did. Sometimes, loved ones come before morals. It isn’t necessarily right or wrong, it just is. That’s what happens. And that was why for the first time in her life, Mandy was hoping that the good guy didn’t win, because that would hurt Mark.
“We were driving around looking at all of the snow,” Mark began calmly. Mandy had to give him credit. If it were her, she would be shaking and stuttering and giving them away in an instant. It was hard enough for her to keep her eyes closed and body still right now, and the lack of intense pain told her that she was probably drugged.
“You were looking at snow?” the officer asked suspiciously. Mandy couldn’t blame him for questioning that fact.
Well, one of us was, at least she thought.
“Yeah. It’s really pretty. It actually looks even prettier in the country than in the city. Have you ever noticed that, sir?” Mandy couldn’t decided whether to be more surprised by the fact that Mark had basically just vocalized her thoughts from earlier that night or that he had just called someone sir.
“Hmm.” Mark’s explanation apparently didn’t completely satisfy the officer.
“It obviously wasn’t the smartest thing to do with all of the ice on the roads, but I was trying to be romantic, you know?” Mark continued, “Actually, between you and me, I was secretly hoping for a kiss or two by the end of the night.”
If she could have, Mandy would have rolled her eyes. Yeah, right. More like he was secretly hoping for some sex by the end of the night. But when the officer next spoke, it was in a friendlier tone. Mark had probably pulled out his charm smile. Damn him.
“I see. And then you hit an icy patch and lost control?”
“Uh-huh. God, it was just… one second we were fine and the next I couldn’t get the car to go straight. I was slamming the breaks and jerking the steering wheel around and nothing was working. And then we hit the tree and it was over. I must have passed out or something, and then I called 911 as soon as I woke up.”
He delivered the lie so expertly, with his voice full of natural sounding emotion, that Mandy considered suggesting a career in acting when they were alone next. Whatever medicine she was getting, probably though IV, was starting to affect her more. Mandy felt a warm sensation, not that much different from the feeling created by the wine, spread through her body. The officer answered Mark, but Mandy didn’t really understand the words because she was falling asleep again.
When she next woke up, Mandy’s eyes felt light enough to open. A few seconds later, however, she became aware of the dull ache that was taking over her entire body. Seeing Mark sitting in the chair next to her bed was a fairly good distraction from the pain, though. He had fallen asleep sitting up in the chair, which could not be comfortable. A Styrofoam cup half full of black coffee was held loosely in his hand. It was actually a little impressive that the cup had not fallen out of his hand and spilled all over the floor as it was tipped at a dangerous angle.
Mark looked, to put it nicely, like crap. Pieces of his hair were sticking up in every possible direction and angle. It was adorable in the “look at your bed head” way. What was not so adorable were the blue-purple crescents underneath his closed eyes. He should have been at home in his bed, and instead he was sitting in a hard plastic chair with a not at all cushiony cushion. Mark really could be sweet when he wanted to be. And he had to have a horrible hangover right now. So, not only had he stayed at the hospital with uncomfortable chairs and terrible coffee and that weird too clean hospital smell, but he had done the whole thing with what she assumed would be the feeling of a hammer repeatedly hitting him over the head.
What a saint. Except for the fact that they would not even have been in this situation if he hadn’t drunk and then driven. It would be easy to blame the entire thing on him, but Mandy knew that she could not do that. She had also had wine, even if it was not even close to the amount Mark had drunk. And she had allowed him to drive. She hadn’t taken the keys or made him sit down or stopped him in another way. Tipsy or not, she should have known better. Amanda was responsible for their situation too. Maybe she was not quite as guilty as Mark, but she was guilty nonetheless.
“Mark?” Mandy said. Or, tried to say, at least. Her mouth was incredibly dry and felt as though it had previously been filled with cotton balls, so Mark’s name came out as more of a scratchy hiss. She cleared her throat and tried again, ignoring the slight pain it caused her throat.
“Mark, wake up. You’re going to spill your coffee.” This time her words resembled a hoarse whisper. Improvement, but still not what she wanted. Mark snored and shifted in his seat, causing the cup to tilt even further. Mandy winced and tried speaking yet again.
“Help, help, Zeus came as a swan and is trying to take advantage of me.” She successfully spoke at a normal volume. Despite the fact that her plea for help was delivered in a completely monotone voice, Mark abruptly woke up. The Styrofoam cup finally fell from his hand and lukewarm coffee flooded his lap. He cursed and jumped from his seat, causing the coffee to spread to the floor.
“Son of a bitch,” Mark hissed, doing an awkward dance in a sad attempt to escape the sensation of soaked pants. If she didn’t think it would cause her pain, Mandy would have rolled her eyes at him.
“I told you that you were going to spill that,” she said.
“Gee, thanks, Dee.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. Mark carelessly pulled off his pants, apparently not bothered by the fact that the door to the hospital room was open. Mandy couldn’t help but stare at him as he inspected his boxers.
“At least it didn’t go through too much,” he said, relieved, “I can keep these on.”
Mandy pouted at him. “Damn. The nurses in the hallway and I were really hoping for full stripping.”
“What?” Mark blinked, then turned around and saw the open door. Sure enough, three young nurses had stopped in the hallway. They quickly turned their attention to the clipboards in their hands when they noticed Mark looking at them. He rolled his eyes and aggressively shut the door.
“My god. Did they look like they were over eighteen? They would have to be, right? And I’m underage. So they are officially pedophiliac nurses. I no longer feel comfortable with you staying here for treatment, especially when they have access to such strong drugs. Controlled substances and pedophiles do not mix well at all.” Mark babbled as he walked back to his seat. He glared felt it, realized it was damp, and sighed. “Can I join you?” he asked, gesturing at the bed.
Mandy almost nodded, but luckily caught herself before doing something that would have been extremely painful.
“Yeah,” she said instead of nodding, “Of course.”
Mark carefully sat down on the end of the bed, making sure not to sit on her feet. Once he was settled, he gently rubbed her legs through the blanket. It was a sweet gesture, and it really did feel good and relaxing. Mandy smiled and closed her eyes.
“Did you know that the word pedophilia comes from the Greek words pais and philos? Pais means child and philos means loving. So, it does literally mean child loving.” Mandy explained without opening her eyes.
The fact that her eyes were closed caused her to miss Mark’s hilarious expression of simultaneous confusion, amusement, and a little bit of frustration. He shook his head.
“How the hell are you still so nerdy when you’re drugged, Dee?”
“I think it’s interesting!” Mandy defended herself with a pout. She still refused to exert the amount of energy that would be required to open her eyes. “Don’t you?”
“No, not really,” Mark answered honestly.
There was a brief pause, and even drugged and close eyed, Mandy could tell that it was significant. Something changed in the thirty or so seconds of silence. The mood went from the gentle teasing that was the norm for Mark and Mandy to something else, something that was somehow heavier and a little bit scary, if Mandy was honest with herself. It was like that moment right before you get really bad news, when whoever is going to tell you said bad news gives you that really serious look right in the eye and does something like patting your arm or holding your hand to show how sorry they are for what they are about to say…. and then they just say it, and it’s over. Your grandmother’s dead. Your father is gone and he will not be coming back. Your pet dog, Sprinkles, just got hit by a car and if you look out the window you can see the bloodstain on the pavement.
In general, bad news would be so much easier to receive without the buildup. It was not the actual hearing of bad news that made Mandy nervous as much as it was the anticipation of what she just knew would be horrible news. That was what really made her chest hurt and her breathing become difficult. And at that moment, her chest was starting to tighten a little bit. She slowly opened her eyes, half afraid of facing what would happen next.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, hating the fact that her voice sounded scared.