Perfect Match by Jerry Byrum Read Free Book Online Page A

of make-up can cover it or later on we can see what we can do along the
lines of a little plastic surgery.”
    D.R. grunted his disapproval, shaking his head. “That’s not
good enough. I expect to be fixed good as new, understand?” His voice got loud.
    “I understand how you may be feeling, but—”
    He cut her off with a loud outburst. “You don’t understand
jack-shit about how I’m feeling. Your perfect little face wasn’t sliced like
mine.”
    Dr. Sutton retorted, “And I wasn’t driving over a hundred
miles per hour through Beaucatcher Tunnel.”
    Rachel Johnson, head nurse on the hospital unit had heard
the loud voices, and was entering the door when D.R. hurled his plastic pitcher
of ice water against the wall. It splashed near the door.
    Rachel glanced at Dr. Sutton, who had backed away from
D.R.’s bed. Rachel approached his bedside, her hulking frame and dark face
glaring at him. She asked over her shoulder, “Are you okay, Dr. Sutton?”
    Tersely, she said, “I’m fine.”
    Rachel looked back at him. “Apparently you haven’t learned
my rules, Mr. Fallington. Let me explain them to you. It doesn’t matter who
you’ve been, who you are, or who you hope to be, when you’re on Rachel Johnson’s
unit and shift you will do exactly what she says. You will treat everyone with
respect. You will show good manners at all times. You will keep your voice low
and your language respectful at all times to all people. Is that clear?”
    He sulked.
    Rachel leaned down within a foot of his face. “I asked the
patient a question. Rachel always gets an answer to her questions.” Her look
turned to a hard glare.
    He mumbled, “Understand.”
    Rachel snapped, with a jerk of her head. “Apologize to the
good doctor here.”
    He was boiling with anger, but decided an apology was the
quickest way to get these two bitches out of his room.
    He muttered, “Sorry.”
    Sutton quickly said, “I’ll check on you later in the week.”
She pressed the hand sanitizer at the door, and hurried from the room, still a
bit shaken from his outburst.
    Rachel pushed the intercom system to call for a clean-up
person. She did a quick read of the bedside instruments, letting her eyes roam
over other areas of the room and then stepped to D.R.’s bedside. “If you didn’t
have a banged up foot, I’d make you clean up this mess. What’s going on with
you, Fallington?”
    He looked uncomfortable with her question and he took note
that she’d dropped the mister that he’d grown accustomed to through the years.
So now he was just Fallington? He wished he could disappear under the covers.
Hell, he thought, I’d like to hide under the damn bed and get away from
everything.
    He took a long breath and sighed, “Probably a little bit of
everything from everybody…including myself.”
    She eyed him, and nodded a few times. “I think you nailed
it…that last part. You better do some serious thinking.”
    The intercom crackled her name and a garbled message. She
swooshed her heavy frame from the room.
     
    D.R. started thinking in the silent wake. He was left with
anger, after being humiliated by two more women in the past five minutes.
Stewing about it unleashed a waste basket filled with resentment, from hurts
and wounds from years past. His thoughts kept drifting back in time.
    He remembered his mother coming to his bedroom about
midnight, when he was 14. Her voice was flat and disinterested. “I just got a
call from the hospital. Your father finally kicked the bucket.” She held a
cocktail in her hand. Her voice slurred a little. “Well, go back to sleep. I
guess we’ll have a funeral in a day or two-o-o.” She left the room, ice
clinking in her glass, as she headed for the bar in their spacious house.
    My dad died? I didn’t even know who he was. How could he die
before I got to know him? Aren’t boys supposed to know their dad? But dad never
seemed interested in knowing his two sons.
    He always had a drink in his hand