Chapter 16

Carl had no real idea where he was. Upon learning that he was single and lived alone; Betsy’s father, Ed, had insisted on taking him to the Carter home, where Carl would get around the clock care. It was an offer that Carl found nearly impossible to turn down. It wasn’t that Carl was concerned about the care he would receive in the hospital; but what would happen after he was discharged, was an issue. There was no one at his apartment to take care of him, and he wasn’t about to ask one of his parents to visit. He didn’t want to be a burden to them. The upshot was that he actually appreciated the offer Ed had made, but he felt like he was imposing on him. After all, there really was no reason for the man to be concerned for him.

Lying in bed was driving Carl crazy. It wasn’t that he was normally all that physically active, but he did like to be doing something. Just lying there, unable to see what was going on around him, was pure torture. Under normal ‘confined to bed’ circumstances, he would read something; but this was different, since he couldn’t see to read. He couldn’t even see to watch television.

The pain killers were making him a little irritable. Combined with being bored, irritability was not a good thing. It was even worse that he was surrounded by people who were basically strangers. He felt an obligation to be polite, which warred with his desire to be surly. He was afraid that surly was going win.

His injuries weren’t actually all that horrible. He had a broken nose that made breathing rather difficult. It also made his voice sound rather flat. The facial bones, just below his eyes and next to his nose, had been fractured, but not broken. As a result, his eyes had swollen completely shut.

He could hear someone walking around the room, but couldn’t see who it was. That was another thing that made him nervous. There was nothing worse than being surrounded by strangers and not being able to see them.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Betsy said.

“It’s you,” Carl said recognizing her voice.

He had learned that her name was Betsy while he was at the hospital. That was about all that he knew about her.

“I get first watch over you,” Betsy said.

“Why watch me? I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s why I’m supposed to watch over you,” Betsy said.

“I don’t get it.”

“What if you need to go to the bathroom?”

“I get it now. You’re not here to watch watch me, but to help me when I need some help.”

Betsy said, “That’s right.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” Carl said.

“You aren’t.”

“I feel like one.”

Betsy stood there not knowing what to say to put his mind at ease. He lay there feeling helpless. If he’d been able to see her, he would have realized that she was feeling just as uneasy about the situation as he did.

Finally, Betsy broke the silence. “Are you thirsty?”

“Yes.”

Betsy grabbed a cup, poured some water into it, and held it out for him to take. It took her a second to realize that he couldn’t see it. She felt a little stupid, as the whole reason she had gotten the cup of water for him, was because he couldn’t see to do it yourself.

“Here you go.”

He reached a hand out. She placed the cup into his grasping hand. She guided his other hand to the straw.

“Thanks,” Carl said.

It wasn’t difficult to guide the straw to his mouth. He took a sip of water. It was nice and cold. It washed some of the ugly taste of his blood out of his mouth. He took another sip finding this one worked more on his thirst than the first sip had. He held out the cup for Betsy to take back.

He said, “That was nice.”

“It was just water,” Betsy said taking the cup.

“I was thirsty, and the water quenched my thirst,” Carl said.

Witty dialog? He was thinking this was the stupidest conversation in which he had ever participated. What was that about the water having quenched his thirst? It sounded like something out of an advertisement. He could just imagine the conversation continuing on hopelessly, ‘That was good water.’, ‘Water’s good for you.’, ‘Everyone needs water.’, and ‘Water is good for everyone.’

Betsy said, “Marguerite could fix something for you to drink if you’d like. You know, tea, coffee, a chai, a smoothy, or fruit juice.”

“I’m actually kind of partial to chai,” Carl said.

“When you’re ready for one, just tell me and I’ll let Marguerite know,” Betsy said.

“Who is Marguerite?”

“She’s the Chef,” Betsy answered.

“You have your own Chef?” Carl asked thinking these people must be rich to have their own Chef.

All of a sudden he was feeling even more uncomfortable about imposing on these people like this. He really wanted to get back to his apartment.

Carl was raised in a middle class neighborhood. Being the school nerd had meant that he had gotten a lot of grief from athletes in high school, but he had just done his own thing and made his way through the system faster than most. Still, he was basically middle class at heart and didn’t quite trust the wealthy.

“Actually, she’s Ed’s Chef. If you value your life, you will never criticize Marguerite at any time, whether he’s present or not,” Betsy said jokingly.

“Thanks for the warning,” Carl said taking her warning seriously.

After another moment of awkward silence, Betsy said, “I’ve got a housekeeper who does the cleaning and cooking at my home.”

“You don’t live here?” Carl asked.

“I’m just visiting. I grew up here, but I live in Hawaii now,” Betsy answered. “I’m at the university working on my PhD.”

“Nice,” Carl said.

He already had his PhD in computer science. His research had been in the area of optimizing operating systems for multi-core processors. It was an area of study that had landed him a very nice job in a company that manufactured computers.

There was a moment of awkward silence before he asked, “What are you studying?”

“Sharks,” Betsy said.

“That’s kind of an unusual subject to study for a woman from Arizona. There aren’t too many sharks around here except for the land sharks.”

“I have an affinity for them. I swim with them,” Betsy said.

“I can’t swim all that well, and to tell the truth, I’d be scared to death to be around sharks,” Carl said.

Betsy frowned upon hearing that. Trying to keep her disappointment out her voice, she said, “Not everyone like sharks.”

“So what? You do. There’s nothing wrong with doing what you’re interested in doing,” Carl said with a negligent shrug of his shoulders.

“That’s a good way to look at it,” Betsy said.

“I’m into computers. A lot of people don’t like computers and that’s saying it mildly. I love what I do,” Carl said.

“I know what you mean,” Betsy said.

Carl said, “I hate it when I tell someone that I work with computers and then they start a long diatribe about how much they hate them and don’t want anything to do with them. I end up standing there listening to them with nothing to say. I imagine you get the same when you talk about sharks.”

“Oh, yeah,” Betsy said.

“Then I get the folks who are fake experts on computers. They think they know a lot, but they don’t. They know how to play a game or use some program, but they don’t really understand them. I end up listening to how good they are and I know they don’t know squat,” Carl said.

Betsy said, “You can say the same about sharks. There are some fanatics who think they know a lot about sharks. Most of their experience about sharks is from horror movies. Sometimes I just want to throttle them.”

“I bet that drives you crazy,” Carl said.

“You can’t imagine,” Betsy said.

Carl said, “Of course, the bad thing is that you have to stand there and listen to them babble on because you have to be polite.”

“I’m not too good at that just standing there bit, but I know what you mean,” Betsy said.

Carl said, “So what do you do besides study sharks?”

“I guess you could say that I’m a jock. I do parkour, swim, surf, martial arts, run, and exercise.”

“I have no idea what parker is, so I can safely say that I don’t do it. I don’t actually do any of those other things. I occasionally play golf or go fishing,” Carl said.

Betsy said, “Parkour, not parker, is basically flowing through an environment at a run by efficiently avoiding obstacles.”

“I may have seen a video or two of it,” Carl said.

“I enjoy hiking and camping,” Betsy said. “I’ll admit that I’m not that good of a fisher-person. I just don’t have the patience for it. I’d rather get in the water and chase them down.”

Carl laughed, despite how much it hurt his nose.

“It isn’t so much about catching fish, as it is about enjoying the outdoors. I almost treat it like an excuse for birdwatching and enjoying sunsets while doing something considered manly.”

Betsy said, “One of my dads is into computers and he likes camping. All of my dads enjoy the outdoors. In fact, Daddy Ed is only really happy when he’s out in the desert.”

He felt a little sorry for Betsy. All of this talk about moms and dads convinced him that she had come from a very dysfunctional background. Her mother and father must have remarried and divorced a couple of times for her to have so many moms and dads.

“Most people don’t think of computer people liking the outdoors, but a lot of us do,” Carl said.

One of his dreams was to have a nice home in a natural setting where he could work on his computer and look up at the great outdoors. He could just imagine sitting out on a patio working away and then being distracted by a deer stepping out of the woods or a hawk flying overhead. He could envision taking a walk through the outdoors when stuck on a problem giving his mind a chance to solve it. He always wondered if he would actually end up producing more or doing less.

“I guess everyone expects you to be the stereotypical nerd sitting in a corner reading technical books,” Betsy said.

Carl said, “I’m guilty of that. I read everything I can get my hands on, not just technical books. It’s like I’m driven to learn things. I just can’t sit around and do nothing.”

Knowing that it was an understatement, Betsy said, “I can understand not being able to sit around and do nothing.”

There was a beeping noise and then the sound of someone fiddling with a clock. Betsy grumbled while trying to get the alarm to turn off. Finally, she managed to find the right button and the alarm died.

“It’s time for another pain pill,” Betsy said.

“It doesn’t really hurt,” Carl said although his entire face seemed to throb in time with his pulse.

“It will.”

With a bit of fumbling around, Carl took a pain pill. It wasn’t one of those super-strong medications, just one that was a little stronger than the over the counter stuff.

The pair talked a little longer and then Carl slipped into a light sleep. It was just a short nap, but he felt a lot better upon waking. The swelling was going down a bit so that there were now two slits of light that he could see. He could hear someone moving around.

“Hello?”

“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were awake.”

The cultured female voice was totally unfamiliar to him. It appeared that he had slept through a shift change. His unease at not knowing who was around him returned full force.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Claire.”

Carl held out a hand and said, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Carl.”