shot?â
âYeah.â
âYou telling me the truth or do I have to go back and look at your record?â
âItâs the truth.â
âYou have a script for an antibiotic?â
âYeah.â
âYou call anyone to come pick you up?â
âNo,â KC says, nervously. âI donât live around here.â
âWhere are you headed?â
âSacramento,â KC says, unable to think of any other answer. âMy family is in Sacramento.â
âLet me walk you to your car. I just clocked out.â
âNo, thatâs okay. I gotta get going.â
The nurse is too broad, too tall, for KC to push past him.
âRicky, Iâm gonna ask you a question.â
He knows the Six Million Dollar Man smells fear dripping from his sweat glands.
âYou have a place to sleep tonight?â
âMy car. Iâm gonna sleep in my car.â
âSo, whereâs your car again?
âIn the parking lot,â he says, unnerved by the manâs persistence. Maybe heâs heard a stolen carâs just been towed off the premises and heâs suspicious. Maybe heâs stalling, detaining KC until the cop can rush back to the hospital.
âSo is mine. Letâs walk out together.â
âI gotta go to the bathroom first. You go ahead. Donât wait for me,â KC insists.
âRicky, why donât you tell me the truth? Thereâs no car and you donât have a place to sleep tonight.â
KCâs eyes well up with tears. Heâs embarrassed by losing control and acting like a frightened baby. It pisses him off that he cries so easily lately, like a little boy or, even worse, a girl. He reaches for his dirty handkerchief but the nurse intercepts him before he can blow his nose.
âWhoa. Whoa. We donât want you to start bleeding again. Stop worrying Ricky,â he says wrapping his arm around KCâs shoulder and leading him back into the treatment area. âYouâre not gonna run on me, are you?â he asks. âChristine, keep an eye on our young friend here and call me if he tries to disappear,â he says to a young nurse. âIâll be back in a minute. Just sit tight.â
None of the staffâdoctors, nurses, orderlies, young women carrying baskets of syringes and empty vials, all wearing the same blue scrubsâare particularly interested in the young man seated at the nurseâs station, clutching a duffel in his arms. KC starts to relax, allowing himself to trust his new friend. He suspects the nurse is calling home, warning his wife or girlfriend or roommate, maybe a roommate, another guy, that heâs bringing an unexpected guest home tonight.
Donât worry. Itâs just for one night. Make up the couch. He looks like he could use something to eat. Why donât you order a pizza?
The nurse might be Christian, following the example of the Good Samaritan, but Christians always find some way to work Jesus into the conversation and he never once mentioned God or the Lord. He could be a gay guy. He did call KC handsome, not once, but twice. Maybe heâll let KC stay a few days while he figures things out. Heâll think itâs a riot when KC tells him he looks like the Six Million Dollar Man and asks if he has bionic powers. Maybe there is no roommate or boyfriend and heâll invite KC to sleep in his bed.
âRicky, this is Mrs. Sutcliffe,â the nurse says when he returns with a tired-looking middle-aged woman. âSheâs gonna help us find a place for you to stay.â
Her ID badge says sheâs a social worker though KC doesnât know exactly what a social worker does. She tries to appear friendly, but acts like sheâs being imposed upon and wants to move on to more urgent matters.
âHow old are you Ricky?â she asks.
âTwenty.â
âWell, the bruises make you look younger. Iâd believe you were an abused kid. Tonight