my surprise. “I think it’s better to be safe than sorry. If they said not to, then don’t. I mean, what are the cops going to do? All you have is your word, and it sounds like they have a lot of money to pay off a lawyer.”
I’m glad we’re on the same page. I feel better already having someone else’s opinion.
“Shall we go pick up your prescription?” Crispen asks, changing the subject and starting the car. “I will stay with you as much as you want if that’s what you want. I can call into work, or whatever you need. You shouldn’t be alone. What happened to you is enough to knock someone off their feet for a while.”
“I’ll be fine,” I attempt to reassure him to no avail. He sees right through my lie and tilts his head at me.
“Thank you for confiding in me, but now we’re both in this together, and I’m not about to let anything happen to you. Let me stay with you for a while,” he nearly begs. “If you don’t, I will sit on your lawn and patrol your yard all day and all night to reassure you that you’re safe.”
Unexpectedly, I laugh a short laugh.
Telling him everything has made me feel far better than I assumed it would. It’s like a breath of fresh air, and I find myself trusting him much more.
“We’ll see,” I answer vaguely. It’s not a no, but it’s also not a yes. This seems to satisfy him though, as he grins and nods.
We pull into the pharmacy, and I grab my medication, before we turn and begin heading back to my place.
“You should take one of those now,” he instructs in his doctor voice and points to the smaller bottle of pain medication. “I guess you can take one of those to.” He gestures to bottle of anti-inflammatory.
“I can’t without water. I will when we get home,” I promise. I’m one of those people who needs water to swallow pills.
“You know what?” he asks me suddenly, interrupting my favorite song on the radio.
I look at him and shake my head. “What?”
“You’re accident prone,” he teases.
“No, I think I’m just having a streak of bad luck,” I say hopefully. “If this bad luck lasts any longer though, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ve been kidnapped and hit by a car all in a matter of three days.”
He laughs lightly. “Yeah, that’s pretty shitty.” His blue eyes glisten in the setting sun, and I can’t help but be in awe. For the rest of the ride home, I stare out the window at the passing streets.
When we get back to my place, Crispen decides to cook me dinner while I lie down and rest. I’m fine with this, because my medication begins to kick in soon after I take it, and I can’t help but start to doze off.
He makes me lasagna which is simple enough and also one of my favorites. I haven’t eaten to today, so I’m borderline starving and scarf down nearly a quarter of the pan.
Later that night, he runs over to his house to fetch his doctor bag, so he can give me a small checkup. I’m so grateful that I ended up not having to stay overnight in the hospital. I hate hospitals. I used to have to stay in them all the time when my mom overdosed after mixing pills with alcohol. At least she kicked the drug habit a few years ago.
“Your head is fine. That bump is pretty big though. I can imagine it hurts.” He has that right. It feels like it has its own pulse.
I hear a can open and glance to the side. He’s opening a can of beer, which he must have brought from his house when he went to get the doctor bag.
“You can sleep you know…” I say confused.
“I know, but I’m not going to. I’m going to wake you up every couple of hours to check your head and watch to make sure no crazy murderers come barging into the house,” he explains, as if this is completely normal.
“Uh, and you’re going to do both of those things while intoxicated? That doesn’t sound smart,” I point out.
“There’s no alcohol in this beer. I just like the taste. I buy it for nights I’m on call at the hospital.
Learning to Kill: Stories