Schneider looked around the room. “I’d like to speak with the parents privately if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” Lou spoke for the two of us. “We’ll be in the hall.” He patted Lauren’s shoulder then started for the door. I began to follow but the doctor grabbed my arm. “You brought Ian in, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” After poking around someone’s insides he didn’t need his papers to remember the name.
“Where did you come from?”
“The Plain.”
“There are plenty of good hospitals over there. Why did you drive all the way here?”
“I made that decision, Doctor,” Lauren said succinctly, taking me off the hook.
“Well, you were extremely lucky,” Dr. Schneider remonstrated, still looking at me. “Ian lost quite a bit of blood.”
I kept my mouth shut, walked into the hallway, and joined Lou.
Out of someone else’s fire, into my own. Lou leaned against the wall, a wary look on his tired, pale face. “Nu?” he asked.
“I need a cigarette.”
“You can’t light up in here.”
“I’m going outside.”
He pushed himself off the wall. “I’ll keep you company.”
“You look pretty wiped out. It’s okay if you want to wait here.”
“I said I’ll go with you,” he answered testily.
I didn’t know why he was annoyed at me. This was his gig, after all.
Lou followed me to my secluded outdoor corner and wheezed while I lit up. “I’m doing the smoking, how come you’re breathing like a bull?” I asked.
He ignored my question. “You shouldn’t smoke. So what do you think?”
“I think I’m exhausted and want a big fat joint and a bottle of bourbon.”
He tiredly rubbed his hand across his face.
“I’m sorry, Lou. This has been rough on you.”
His face relaxed as he misread my meaning. “Boychick, you can’t imagine how difficult it’s been to tell you about Lauren.”
“I meant the stabbing,” I said, instantly uncomfortable.
Lou shrugged. “I’m old enough to know situations like this are part of any package.”
I dropped the cigarette onto the ground and carefully toed it out. “This package ain’t exactly tied with a ribbon, Louie.”
He shook his head. “You keep talking about tonight. I mean my, uh, my...”
“Squeeze,” I supplied.
Lou looked sheepish. “I just heard the expression and it popped into my head when we were on the phone.”
“What else are you popping?” I snapped before thinking. “From here it looks like you’re in above your head.”
Lou stepped out of the circle of light. “This doesn’t happen all the time, Matty.”
“The woman looks half your age, for Christ sake.”
“That young?” Lou asked, his pleasure evident.
“No, but plenty younger than you.”
“Is that a sin?”
No sin, maybe a blessing. I clamped a bit onto my attitude. “I don’t know,” I said, fighting off another wave of fatigue. “She is beautiful,” I admitted.
“What’s so wrong?” Lou asked stepping into the light. “I didn’t run out looking after Martha died. I didn’t look at all. Lauren and I met, we had a pleasant conversation, and one thing led to another.”
“Where did you meet?” I asked.
“Charley’s.”
Charley’s was a breakfast joint owned by Phil, both a friend and an ex-cop who was my conduit to our local police. A break for me since I stayed as far away from cops as I could. A legacy from the seventies, and eighties,, and nineties. I knew why Lou ate there, “great traif,” but Lauren didn’t look like ‘grease and grill.’ Course, I didn’t know what Lauren really was—just that I felt uncomfortable about and around her. But before I could wriggle away from Lou’s hopeful gaze, the doors swung open and she and Paul walked into the night.
“There you are. We looked all through the building.” Lauren was visibly relieved by the doctor’s prognosis and her smile gleamed bright through the darkness. “I’m glad you didn’t leave.”
Paul didn’t appear nearly as happy.
“Don’t be silly,” Lou replied. “I would never leave without you.”
His words hung in the air before Paul, visibly tense, broke the silence. “Look, I didn’t thank you back there,” he said to me. “I appreciate what you did tonight.”
“Enough to replace his shirt?” Lauren bit, her smile gone. “He’s not wearing a bloodstained undershirt for fashion.”
“No problem, Lauren,” I hastily intervened. “It was just an old sweatshirt.”
“That’s not the point.”
He didn’t look pleased but Paul nodded. “Send me the bill. Look, I have to get some sleep. You heard the doctor, it’s senseless to wait around.”
He stepped closer to Lauren. “I’ll take you home. We can pick your car up tomorrow.”
Lauren shook her head and took Lou’s arm. “I’m going to Lou’s house if it’s okay with him.”
Paul didn’t wait for Lou’s answer. He shook his head, shrugged, swiveled, and walked into the night.
Lou just stood beaming. It was better than okay, much better.
More okay by him than by me, I grumbled to myself late the next morning, contorting my body into a car cleaning position. A tough fit. The lingering late summer, early autumn sun scattered through my alley, working its magic on my faint but persistent headache. Faint because I hadn’t allowed the return from Beth Israel to become open season for my Holy Trinity of television, alcohol, and pot. Persistent because we weren’t talking abstinence either. Actually, the real head-banger was about my discomfort with the surprising, unexpected turn in Lou’s life.
“His life, his life,” I reminded Mr. Clean. I rubbed my father-in-law’s proud face from my eyes and
