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Show 122, XVIII JD woke up in a sweat. For a minute he didn't know where he was. They'd all been in the ambulence together-Chic, himself the "men" with the burning eyes. Now he was alone, threshing out of the gauze cacoon of another nightmare. He pulled himself erect in the chair, feeling hot and aching all over, then tried to focus his eyes on something. At the end of the room he saw the circular desk isolating the nurse. He heard the rattling of a cart down the hall somewhere. So he was still in the hospital waiting room . . . and Chic was still inside someplace where they wouldn't let him go. JD ran his hands over his hair and made an attempt to tuck in his shirt. Then he saw Chic's mother, almost hidden by the hospital philo-dendron next to her. She sat straight and prim, staring at the long hall leading from the waiting room. "God," JD thought, "how long have I been asleep? I didn't even see her come in." He stood and walked the few steps to where she sat. "Mrs. Wilcox?" he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were here. I guess I fell asleep." "Hello, JD," she patted his hand as he sat down. "They wouldn't let me stay with him." Her mouth twisted. "Did you see the doctor?" he asked. "Is Chic going to be okay?" "I'm worried about his eyes. He can't see a thing. They've got his head in a big bandage now." She gripped his hand hard. "Oh no!" JD said. Chic blind! It couldn't happen. "And one leg's got terrible twisted. Ripped the ligaments and everything so they're going to have to operate." She dug in her purse for a kleenex. JD's insides churned. He wanted to take her in his arms and rock her like a baby, she was so pitiful. Instead, he held his own arms tight across his chest, looking away while she wiped her eyes and her nose. Then he said what he knew had to come out. "Mrs. Wilcox, it should've been me! It was my fault." |