Ties That Blind. Zachary Klein

he said to no one in particular. “I’ll tell you as soon as I know something.”

      I started down the hall while the Gown walked briskly in the opposite direction. I wasn’t sure if the rest of the group was following, but I knew my ghosts weren’t far behind.

      The next few hours were a bone tired crawl. Lauren sat on the floor, straight-backed, hugging her knees on a tired braided rug right in front of a brown, Scotch-guarded couch. Most of the time she kept her eyes closed.

      Paul slouched on the sofa behind Lauren, his long legs stretched alongside her rigid body. Lou sat in a chair, a respectful distance from the two. I sprawled across another hard settee on the other side of the room. Paul’s legs constantly jiggled though he wore a bored expression occasionally interrupted by a hostile glance toward Lou or me. Once in a while he’d brush against Lauren and she would purposely shift her body out of reach. When the general tension and Lauren and Paul’s dance became too much to take, I slipped out of the building for a cigarette.

      It wasn’t much better. Chain smoking next to a hospital’s emergency room in this day and age, even on a quiet night, wasn’t a relax. Despite the cool, deep-night air, anxious sweat feathered my body. I crushed my second cigarette under heel and reluctantly returned to the waiting room.

      Something had gone down during my absence. Paul was pacing, angrily pushing empty chairs out of his way and glaring back and forth from Lauren to Lou. He continued his tantrum until he reached the coffee machine, shoved some coins into its slot, and slapped the plexi with his palm. “If you teach these bastards respect, they don’t steal your money.”

      “Damn,” he cursed, as a tilted cardboard cup slid through the chute. I watched as Paul futilely tried to right the cup before he lost all the coffee. His hand was lucky machines kept everything lukewarm.

      Lauren now sat in the corner of my couch, long fingers covering her face. If she was aware of her ex-’s act, she kept it to herself. Lou seemed torn between joining Lauren and remaining where he was.

      “Have you heard something from the doctor?” My throat felt tight but I sounded okay.

      Lauren moved her hands, met my eyes, and shook her head.

      “Nothing from the doctor,” Paul said pointedly. He looked as if he would continue talking if I pressed, but the only press was my silence. So he stood there, empty wet cup in hand, seeing me, really, for the first time.

      “You picked Ian up from the bar?” he asked.

      “Yeah.”

      “He give you shit?”

      “He was out on his feet.”

      “Lucky you.”

      “Paul!” Lauren jerked upright in one harsh, powerful motion.

      Paul quickly swung his attention toward her. “Ian isn’t easy to be with, and you know it. If I picked him up he would have raised hell. Out on his feet or not.” When he turned back after a long pause, his eyes looked genuinely unhappy.

      Lauren wasn’t buying. “You just can’t stop complaining about the children, can you?”

      “The boys, Lauren, just the boys.” Paul’s remorse scurried behind his sarcasm.

      Lou finally made up his mind, sat down next to Lauren, and took her hand.

      “I don’t know why I’m holding onto this,” Paul said nodding toward the wet cardboard, ignoring Lou’s place change. He threw the sog into the trash can, wiped his palm on the back of a chair, then rummaged through his pockets. “Damn, I’m out of change.”

      I failed to fish enough coins for two. I despised vending machine coffee, only I hated having nothing to do even more. Lauren leaned into Lou’s bulk, resting her head on his shoulder. Every so often he’d run his fingers across her cheek. Watching them, I suddenly felt a disquieting kinship with Paul and amazed by Lauren’s connection to Lou.

      “I think there’s a bill changer,” I said walking over to the machines.

      Paul slapped his pants. “I ran out of the house so fast I forgot my wallet.”

      “And if you’d brought it,” Lauren muttered audibly, “you’d only have a twenty.”

      “I have plenty of singles,” I said quickly. The damn night was threatening to dredge up both my marriages. But before I had time to feed the machine, Dr. Schneider strode through the door.

      “He’s okay,” Schneider announced. He still wore his gown, but now it was blood splattered. Ian’s no doubt. I wondered if that made me and the doctor blood brothers once removed.

      “But just okay,” he added before any of us could relax. “The wound almost hit an artery.”

      “Where was he bleeding from?” Lauren asked calmly, her row with Paul forgotten.

      “Stomach.” 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