Striking Out by Alison Gordon Read Free Book Online Page A

mother.
    “No, he’ll take it walking with him. That’s why it comes with a leash,” he said, rolling it in demonstration.
    “Are you sure it’s not too soon?” I asked.
    “He’s in a lot of pain,” said his mother.
    “Stop fussing, both of you,” Andy said.
    I turned to catch his smile, and felt my heart give a little leap.
    “About time you got here,” he said.
    “Stop teasing her,” his mother said. “She was by your side all night, in case you don’t know.”
    Dr. Griffith stepped to the bed.
    “We haven’t formally met,” he said, holding out his hand. “But I know you inside out, as it were.”
    “I guess I owe you my life.”
    “Don’t worry, I won’t call upon you to reciprocate. How are you feeling?”
    “I’m ready to get up right now. Except for the spiders.”
    “They’ll be gone soon,” smiled the doctor. “We’ll take you off morphine tomorrow night.”
    “No fair,” I said. “He’s so much fun stoned.”
    “Oh, he’s a real life of the party,” said his mum. I turned to see Andy’s response. He was losing a battle with his eyelids. He grinned at me, weakly.
    “Go to sleep,” I said. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Chapter 11
    After examining his handiwork and lecturing his retinue, Dr. Griffith went on to the next bed, leaving me alone with Andy. I put the flowers into a water jug for want of a vase and settled in with a book of travel essays I’d brought with me, the perfect escape from an unpleasant setting. Without too much trouble I could imagine myself in a steamy Mexican jungle or a smoky Paris café instead of the pulmonary wing of the Toronto Hospital.
    Mostly, I do anything I can to avoid hospitals, even as a visitor. I even find maternity wards depressing. There’s something terribly unnatural and inappropriately intimate about chatting with someone when they’re in bed and you’re not.
    Andy woke up again after a couple of hours.
    “Bob Flanagan told me about the kid,” he said. “How is Jim doing?”
    “He was here last night until you came out of surgery. He’s not great. When did you talk to Flanagan?”
    “I don’t know. Sometime this morning. It’s a bit of a blur. I think he took a statement from me.”
    “Christ, why can’t they leave you in peace?”
    “They can’t. They have to investigate quickly.”
    “I guess. How’s your pain?”
    “It’s going strong,” he winced.
    I started to call the nurse, but he put his hand on my arm.
    “She’ll bring it when it’s time,” he said.
    “Fine, be macho. It’s your pain, not mine.”
    “Don’t worry about Jim,” he said. “There’s no way he wasn’t justified. He’ll be on leave until it’s settled, though. I should call him, but there are no phones in here.”
    “I’ll call for you.”
    “Is he taking it hard?”
    “He said it was the first time he’s shot anyone.”
    “Yes, it is.”
    “What about you? Have you ever?”
    “Shot someone? Yes. A few years ago. He didn’t die, but I still lived with nightmares for a good while afterwards. I hope Jim has the sense to get some help.”
    “Like what?”
    “The department has shrinks for this kind of thing now. It used to be they’d just throw the officer back into duty. They’ve got smarter lately.”
    “What about when you did it?”
    “I pretended it didn’t matter for a while. But it ate at me. I wasn’t sleeping. I was drinking, really drinking, almost every night. It broke up my marriage, for one thing.”
    “I didn’t know that.”
    “That’s when I went for help.”
    “Why didn’t you ever tell me about that before?”
    “It’s the past. Ancient history. It won’t happen again.”
    “That’s not what I’m worried about.”
    “Listen, these days there’s all sorts of help available. This is nineties policing. Jim’s going to have help coming out his yin yang, whether he asks for it or not. So will I.”
    “That’s good.”
    “They’ve got this critical incident team. Guys