Crazy but Sweet, Sweet but Crazy

32: unfamiliar tranquility

"I'd like to speak to the guardian of the patient."

The doctor, in his fifties, with a blue stethoscope around his neck, spoke softly as if we were in a library, glancing at Gerald, and then at me.

"That would be me", said Gerald, pulling out an envelope which could only contain cash wads. Probably cash, being less traceable than cheques.

"He's an employee at the patient's house. I'm the girlfriend."

Only as I was pulling out a tabloid article with Elliot and my face on it to show to the doctor, did I realize there was little strength in my hands. "Between us, I'd be the guardian."

Gerald only betrayed a sense of fatigue, and slight annoyance.

That'd been the exact expression he'd shown, seeing the two brothers at each other's throat.

Or rather, one at the other's throat. "Ms. Horan-"

Mulling over whether I would've actually used the broken door knob, should Elliot not have come between his brother and myself, had to stop.

"You can pass the doctor that envelope after I hear from the doctor. I need to hear from him."

"...All right." Gerald put back the envelope in his jacket, and walked away from us, out of hearing shot but within visible distance.

"Inflammation levels are high. There are clear signs of repeated and sustained physical abuse. The head, back, shoulders, abdomen, arms and legs.

"This couldn't have been the first time the boy would've needed to go to a hospital." The doctor said coldly, glancing at Gerald with a look that wasn't exactly affable. "I'll have to call the cops."

"I'll ask Elliot first." I wet my lips. "You can take the envelope from the man, and file a report to the cops for one more thing. Attempted bribery. Then I'll give you the exact same amount. Would that be fair enough?"

The doctor's stony hard face slackened into a grim smile.

"You can donate that exact amount to this hospital, young lady. Holy, we're running out of hospital beds during peak time."

"Doesn't hurt anymore." Elliot's soft breaths grazed across my face.

I drew back from him, the words I needed to speak stuck like a hard stone in my gullet.

He lowered his eyes to his crimson-painted knuckles. "Do you know if- Landon's awake?"

"He's all right. Just sleeping off the beer."

That was probably the first thing he thought of, waking up. If Landon was all right.

Elliot's chocolate brown hair looked darker than usual, damp with cold sweat against his head. He was dressed in bandages and casts, his skin colored dark and his voice throaty.

He looked like a complete mess- but there was a strange- strange completeness, wholeness to him.

The layer of Elliot I'd seen on campus, greeted and greeting with big smiles, familiar with everyone's life stories, had been peeled away.

He nodded, some of the tension in his face relaxing at my response.

Then, he looked up at me with a quiet look of disbelief. "You took my sign. You really did it."

"Well. I believed you were right in your mind. You're too calculative, calm and scheming to be out of it."

A wry smile pulled the corner of Elliot's mouth. "Thank you?"