Chapter 22 - Cracked Toys
The dull drone of the intercom echoes through the halls, adding to the overall gloomy feel. Nurses and doctors rush about, flitting from room to room as a bee would to flowers. Harry paces in front of me, his tall and looming figure striding back and forth the long room as we waited for the doctor to enter.
Jane and I had tried multiple times to get him to sit down and relax, but it seemed nothing could calm his nerves. Sadness tugs at my heart as I watch him helplessly. His jade eyes flicker around the room like a caged animal. His pace is anxious and I expect any moment for his long legs to fumble over the other and to send him plummeting to the ground. But defying my worries, he continues to pace back and forth.
Back and forth.
It's never-ending.
His right hand is wrapped around his left wrist so tightly his fingertips are beginning to turn purple. He cradles his bloodied hand to his chest, flinching at every sound that echoes through the hospital.
"He should be here, why isn't he in here?" Harry finally speaks, his tone low and raspy, trembling with concealed pain.
"Haz, the ER has more pressing cases than a cut hand. Just give him time..." Jane tries to soothe, watching as he paces the room with worried eyes.
"It hurts!" He hisses under his breath, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth. His lip is beginning to swell with all the brawn Harry had brought upon it in the last half hour. By now his lower cheek was colored purple, the edges of the dark bruise speckled with maroon as it faded to a painful pink. His injured hand trembles, scarlet pulsing steadily from the breaks in his otherwise smooth skin.
When finally the door swings open. Harry's eyes flicker to the door immediately and his teeth finally release his throbbing lip. He walks to the examination table with a rushed grace, sitting on the edge as the doctor walks in.
The man that walks in looks in his twenties, tawny hair slicked back neatly. His light blue eyes quickly assess Harry's hand as he walks over to him, gently prying away Harry's trembling hand from the other wrist. Harry is glaring daggers at him, obviously irritated with the prolonged wait we'd endured.
The room is silent as the young doctor examines the gashes that litter
Harry's palms. And finally he speaks up in a warm, friendly voice.
"I'm Doctor Turner, but you can call me Travis."
He gives a smile to Harry, glancing back to Jane and I with a quick nod as he looks back at Harry.
"Or I can call you late." Harry mutters, jaw set angrily.
"Harry." Jane and I scold simultaneously.
I don't blame him, he has a bit of a temper and he's in pain, but I'm still embarrassed at his immature comment. Travis gives a bit of an apologetic smile, bravely meeting Harry's eyes.
"I'm sorry you had to wait... But you should consider yourself lucky. Not all the patients have two beautiful women to keep them calm through their accidents." He glances over his shoulder at Jane and I with a playful wink, chuckling to himself.
I can't fight back the smile that makes its way onto my lips. Harry gives a quick glare over the young man's shoulder. And I know he doesn't say it, but I can practically hear the irritated mutter "Don't encourage him." I roll my eyes at Harry and he huffs quietly, looking down at the injured hand he has carefully rested on his knee.
Jane's chair squeaks quietly as she gets to her feet. "Haz, I'm gonna go take care of the medical bills and I'm gonna get something for us to eat in case this takes a while."
Harry doesn't respond, glaring silently at his injured hand. He's sulking. I roll my eyes and nod towards Jane, giving her a thankful smile. She nods back, leaving the cramped room.
Travis raises a hand toward Harry, gently touching the bruise across Harry's cheek. Harry hisses sharply, quickly recoiling from his touch. I sigh, embarrassment leaving my cheeks red at Harry's childish behavior. "Don't be a drama queen, Harry." I say quietly and I see a small smile tug at the young doctor's lips. Harry's brow furrows, eager to reply.
"I'm not being a drama queen. It hurts."
As if to make his two-year-old act even more convincing, his bottom lip pushes out a little, raising his uninjured hand to cup over the bruise. I roll my eyes a little and sigh as the doctor walks to the counter. I quickly shoot a glare to Harry, silently begging for him to just let the doctor do his work without humiliating himself even more. His jaw sets stubbornly again, quickly looking away.
The doctor turns back to Harry, a smile on his face but a syringe in his hand. I inwardly cringe for Harry.
Nobody likes a needle.
"This is just a painkiller. You won't feel a thing." Travis explains, taking Harry's wrist in his hand as he pushes the needle through the light skin where his veins show through.
"Ow!" Harry exclaims.
Travis fights a smile, murmuring as he pushes down on the plunger of the syringe.
"See? I lied. Rule one, the doctor lies."
I can't even stop myself as the words tumble past my lips without waiting for approval
"Do you watch Doctor Who?"
Travis' light eyes immediately flash to mine, excited. "Do I?" He laughs, grinning widely. "Who's your favorite companion?" The smiles and questions keep bursting forth from my lips without running through my mind first. Travis' eyes sparkle a little as he quickly responds, just as excited
"Clara. Definitely Clara."
"No way! Rose is the best!" I protest.
Harry quickly jumps in, his irritation practically tangible in the air. "Would both of you quit it?! I have glass in my hand!" Travis and I both fall silent, quickly looking back to him. But I can still see the trace of a smile on the young doctor's face as he retracts the needle, quickly getting to work.
∘∞∘ ∘∞∘ ∘∞∘ ∘∞∘
"What a total dweeb..." Harry mutters as we walk through the hospital doors, making our way to the pink car where Jane waits. "Travis is cool." I defend, looking up to his angry-set face. "'Travis is cool.'" He mocks quietly, sneering as he picks at the gauze on his hand.
My brows furrow.
"He is cool." I say quietly, frustrated. Harry rolls his eyes, his tone quiet and arrogant. "'He is cool'." Anger bubbles up in me and I stop immediately, glaring up at the tall boy.
"You're just jealous because he can get someone's attention without being a rude, immature jerk!"
Harry instantly spins around. "Yes! I am jealous! Because you're my girlfriend and you were flirting with him right in front of me!"
My jaw drops, my tone instantly indignant "I was not flirting! I was just talking to him!"
Harry steps closer, sneering harshly "What? Just because I cut my hand you don't want me anymore? 'Oh I guess this toy's cracked, lets get a new one.' You just latch onto the nearest male?!"
Before I know it, his head is snapping to the side with a sharp crack, my palm stinging. He falls silent in surprise. Fury bubbles throughout me, my face hot as I shoot the most vicious glare I can muster. "How dare you..." I can barely choke out, frustrated when angry tears prick my eyes.
"Julia... I.. I didn't mean-" He's shocked, eyes wide as his hand cups his cheek gingerly. I instantly shove past him, surprising both of us when he stumbles as I brush by, storming to the car.
"You just slapped me." He states in surprise as I hear his footsteps follow me.
I slide into the passenger seat of the bright car, quickly slamming the door so Harry is forced to sit into the back instead. The back door opens, Harry silent as he slides in. Jane is quiet, sensing the tension as she starts to drive. I sit there, fuming.
There's a pressure that weighs down on my chest, leaving me with the feeling that I'm going to be crushed by the anger pounding through me. The pressing anger continues to push down, so I try to tune everything out.
I keep my eyes trained on the dashboard as the minutes fly by, not a word spared in the sickly sweet car. As the silence drags on, finally Jane and Harry start to have a quiet conversation, obviously aware that I'm not in the mood for participating in their socialization. I notice dully in the back of my mind that the back door opens as the car slows to a stop.
A few minutes later the door opens again and from the corner of my eye, I see Harry throw in a duffle bag as he slides in behind it. But after the car starts to drive again, it's still silent. They don't try to resume the conversation. Even now, I can still feel the crushing pressure of the anger. I still have no motivation to try and talk to Harry. But the curiosity of what expression his face may hold gets to me.
I spare a glance towards the backseat of the car, some of the anger seeping away as I see him staring mournfully at the gauze wrapped around his hand. His eyes are dull, shoulders hunched guiltily. He seems to feel my gaze, mumbling timidly "I'm sorry..."
I can immediately feel Jane's gaze burning into me. I sigh, putting my head back against the headrest.
"S'fine..." I barely mumble, closing my eyes as I reach back, my hand outstretched towards him. After a moment I feel one of his hands envelop mine, squeezing it lightly.
I can't stop the smile that makes its way onto my lips.
"I love you.." He murmurs quietly from the back seat.
My smile widens a little as I feel the warm sunlight drift through the car windows, tinting my eyelids red.
"I love you too, Harry..."