The White Boy

Wednesday

QUINN OPENED HIS EYES. He had slouched onto his side sometime during the night. The anesthetic had worn off and a sharp pain had returned to his shoulder. He turned to his right to check the time on the wall clock and saw the tattered bandage on the sofa arm. He looked at his shoulder and found the top bandage had fallen off. Large patches of blood-soaked gauze littered the coffee table in front of him. Three trails of crimson blood snaked down his arm and pooled in small spots on the sofa. His three sutured wounds were torn open. Pieces of black bristly thread jutted from the incision sites on the front, side, and back of his shoulder.

He reached for the wound but stopped short of grabbing it. Using his left hand, he pushed himself off the sofa and ran to the kitchen. He yanked on the paper towel roll, breaking a few sheets free and sending the aluminum stand tumbling toward the white-tile floor with the subtlety of a building demolition. He was sopping the blood from his bicep and forearm when Mel ran into the kitchen.

"Jesus Christ," she said. "What happened?"

"My shoulder is bleeding. The stitches. They broke open last night."

She picked the paper towel roll and the stand off the floor, ripped off more sheets and handed them to Quinn, who kept blotting the blood from his arm.

"Do you want me to call the doctor?" she said.

Quinn looked around the kitchen counter for the discharge paperwork from the clinic. "Yeah." He pointed to the kitchen telephone on the other side of the room. "I think the number's over there."

Mel dialed and handed Quinn the phone. A moment later he was talking to the nurse.

"You probably scratched them open during the night," said the nurse.

"I didn't scratch them open. How do you even do that..."

"Did you take any of the pain medication before you went to sleep?"

"Yes, but..."

"The recommended dosage?"

"Maybe a few extra."

"You probably didn't even realize you were doing it," she said, rustling paperwork in the background. "How far are you from the clinic?"

"About a half hour."

"Is there a closer medical center to your home?"

Quinn thought. "There's an ER a few miles away. Bethesda Arrow Springs."

"I'll call and tell them you're coming in for a re-stitch. Keep the incision sites covered and they'll patch you back up as soon as you get there."

"Okay. I can be there in five minutes."

"And maybe stop taking the pain meds," said the nurse. "Switch to an over-the-counter pain reliever if you can. That'll help you with the pain without making you so loopy. You don't want a third round of sutures."

"No shit," said Quinn to himself. He clicked off the phone and reached for his keys.

"Do you want me to drive you?" said Mel. "I can wake the kids and throw them into the car."

"No, it's just a mile up the street. I can manage." Quinn snatched the roll of paper towels.

She was still trying to convince him to let her drive when he walked out the front door.

QUINN RETURNED FROM THE EMERGENCY room to find his father standing in the driveway.