Chapter 3: Mysteriously Dismissed

I went back inside to wait, but made it a point to avoid Angie. I know she was just doing her job and all that crap, but I still took it personally that she'd treated me more like a suspect than a regular citizen. I sat down in the waiting room, picked up a year-old copy of Newsweek, and leafed through it, seeing what I'd missed on the world scene last July. Jeopardy was on the hospital's TV, and the young couple in the waiting room had lost interest now that answering questions on the game show required that you actually know something besides how to spell two-syllable words. After about a half-hour, Joey emerged from backstage somewhere, and motioned to Angie to meet him at the front desk. They both conferred with the admitting nurse in hushed tones, then Joey and Angie walked out the door without looking in my direction. I saw them get into their squad car, call in on the radio, then drive out of the parking lot.

I waited about another half-hour, got restless, and wandered back up to the desk. There'd been a shift change, and a different nurse was holding down the admitting desk.

"Excuse me, miss," I said, hoping I wasn't offending her too deeply with my archaic form of address. "I'm wondering when I can see my friend."

"I'll check for you, sir," she replied. "What's your friend's name?"

"It's Linda Hunter. She was brought in here a couple of hours ago."

The nurse made a half-turn from her sitting position to reach the computer keyboard in front of her, and tapped a few keys.

"Linda Hunter, did you say?"

"Yeah."

"Are you a relative of hers, by any chance?"

"No, I'm not. But she asked to see me when she was brought in, and I've been waiting for quite a while now."

She tapped a few more keys, frowned at the screen, tapped a few more, and frowned again.

"I'm sorry, sir, there seems to be some mistake. My records show she was discharged an hour ago."

"Discharged? Why the hell didn't anyone tell me? I've been waiting here since 9:30, she asked to see me, no one tells me anything, and now you say she's gone? When did this happen?"

"Sir, there's no need to yell at me. I'm just telling you what our records say. Unless you're a member of her immediate family, I'm afraid I can't tell you anything else."

"Well, where's the doctor that she saw? Can I talk to him?"

"I'm afraid not. He's with another patient and very busy right now. If you'd like to have a seat, I can ask him to come out and see you when he gets a minute."

Great. More waiting. If they'd put video games or pinball machines in hospital waiting rooms, they could take up most of the slack in financing the health care system in this country. Or how about pool tables? Maybe even attract people who don't have maimed loved ones being reconstructed back there in the hospital's nether regions.

So, I waited. After watching a re-run of "Cheers" and reading even more about last year's foreign and domestic affairs, a young guy in green scrubs came out of the swinging doors leading to the examination room, and conferred briefly with the desk nurse. She nodded in my general direction, and he walked my way.

"Hi , I'm Dr. Ramis. Who are you?" he asked with the directness of a man who is used to dealing with patients who have absolutely no choice in their health care provider of the moment.

"My name's Mollito. My friends call me Cheese--I'm the head librarian in town."

"Oh yeah. My wife is in one of the reading groups you set up down there."

"Really?", I said. "Which one?"

He looked a bit puzzled for a moment. "I don't know. Is there more than one?"

"We've got several. But the reason I wanted to talk to you was because I got word through Joey Romito that Linda Hunter had been hit by a car and had asked to see me. Then when I went up to the desk to check on her a while ago, they said she'd been released, but I never got to see her. What's going on here?"

"Mr. Mollito, I'm sorry if there was some confusion. Miss Hunter was treated for some minor abrasions and a slight concussion. I wanted her to stay overnight for observation, but she left the hospital against my advice. She never mentioned wanting to see you or anyone else. Are you sure it was you she wanted to talk to?"

"Never mind, doctor. I'll talk to her myself. Thanks for your time."

I walked back out into the parking lot, wondering just what the hell was going on. First she wants to see me at the diner, then she doesn't show up, then the cops tell me she wants to see me at the hospital, then she takes off without seeing me. Was it just me, or was there something just a bit odd going on here? Lacking any clue as to just what the deal was, I decided to do what I do best--nothing. I was going home to enjoy the company of my dog and a nice tall glass of bourbon.

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