Drive

Chapter Twenty-eight

His eyes went up, to plastic IV bags hanging on trees above the bed, six of them. Below those a battery of pumps. They’d need to be reset every hour or so. One beeped in alarm already.

“What, another goddamn visitor?”

Driver had spoken with the charge nurse, who told him there’d been no other visitors. She also told him his friend was dying.

Doc raised a hand to point shakily to the IVs.

“See I’ve reached the magic number.”

“What?”

“Back in med school we always said you have six chest tubes, six IVs, it’s all over. You got to that point, all the rest’s just dancing.”

“You’re going to be fine.”

“Fine’s a town I don’t even visit anymore.”

“Is there anyone I can call?” Driver asked.

Doc made scribbling motions on air. There was a clipboard on the table. Driver handed it to him.

“This is an L.A. number, right?”

Doc nodded. “My daughter.”

At a bank of pay phones in the lobby, Driver dialed the number.

Thank you for calling. Your call is important to us. Please leave a message.

He said that he was calling from Phoenix, that her father was seriously ill. He left the name of the hospital and his own phone number.

When he got back, a Spanish-language soap opera was playing. A handsome, shirtless young man came struggling up out of swampland, plucking leeches off well-muscled legs.

“No answer,” Driver said. “I left a message.”

“She won’t call back.”

“Maybe she will.”

“Why should she?”

“Because she’s your daughter?”

Doc shook his head.

“How’d you find me?”

“I went by your place. Miss Dickinson was outside, and when I opened the door she rushed in. You two had a routine. If she was there, then you should be. I started knocking on doors, asking around. A kid across the street told me paramedics had come and taken you away.”

“You feed Miss Dickinson?”

“I did.”

“Bitch has us all well trained.”

“Is there anything I can do for you, Doc?”

His eyes went to the window. He shook his head.

“I figured you could use this,” Driver said, handing him a flask. “I’ll try your daughter again.”

“No reason to.”

“Okay if I come back to see you?”

Doc tilted the flask to drink, then lowered it.

“Won’t be much reason for that, either.”

Driver was almost to the door when Doc called out: “How’s that arm?”

“The arm’s good.”

“So was I,” Doc said. “So was I.”