Chapter 4
1119 Words
The door opened immediately and Brandon was engulfed in a bracing bear hug almost as fast. “Hey, squirt. What the hell are you doing in Chicago at 7:30 on a Tuesday night?”
“Damn, Keith. Put me down before you snap my spine, will ya? Are you and Maria so hard up for money that you have to drum up business by causing the injuries yourself?”
Seeing Nate’s startled expression, Brandon said, “Nate, this is my brother, Keith. He’s a neurologist here. Keith, this is Nathan Morris.”
Keith put his brother down and moved closer to Nate. Using one finger, he gently tilted Nate’s head so he could better see the right side. He turned back to Brandon. “I’m assuming you didn’t do that to his head?”
“If I had, I damn sure wouldn’t have brought him to the hospital. Nate thinks he was the subject of a gay-bashing.”
Nate gave Brandon an icy glare. “No, he doesn’t think he was the subject of a gay-bashing; he knows he was.”
Keith and Brandon both fought back their grins. Keith said, “Yeah, I hate it when people talk about me like I’m not around, too. I guess you’re here for an MRI, right.”
Nate nodded. “Yes, but I don’t want to bump anyone else off the schedule.”
“I’ll check with one of the techs, but I don’t think there’ll be a problem. Tuesday nights are kind of slow, even here in Chicago. Do you have a set of orders, or do you need me to write you some?”
Nate handed him the orders and watched as Keith’s face changed. “Wait a minute. You’re a doctor?” When he nodded, Keith said, “You aren’t the same Nathan Morris who did his residency in the NICU at Atlanta General, are you?”
Brandon watched as Nathan nodded and then blushed a little bit. He turned to Keith. “You know him?”
Keith said, “Only by reputation. Dr. Morris here is a legend in the field of neurology. He pioneered a technique to help premature babies deal with the neurological symptoms of withdrawal from heroin and cocaine. Man, what are you doing all the way up here?”
Brandon could see how uncomfortable Nate seemed. Before Keith could pump him for more information, Brandon said, “Don’t you think he should at least be sitting down somewhere? I mean, you are the doctor and all, but still…”
“s**t. I’m sorry, man. I’m actually a pretty good doctor when my dumbass kid-brother isn’t distracting me. Let’s get you to radiology.”
Keith led them down the hall to the radiology lab. While the techs took Nate into the other room and prepared him for the MRI, Keith seized the opportunity to pump him for information.
Brandon told him all about the gay-bashing and his doubts about the motive. Keith ignored all that and cut straight to the reason why gay-bashing would even be a possibility in the first place.
“So, Dr. Morris is gay, huh?”
“Don’t even think about it, Keith. Jeez, you’re almost as bad as Mom.”
Keith did his best to look hurt, but Brandon knew him too well to be fooled. “All I did was make a casual observation, Bran.”
“Yeah, right. Just like you made a casual observation that one of the doctors on your surgical rotation was gay and had a thing for guys in uniform? Just like the casual observation you made about how great Pastor Oakley’s son was, or how nice Mrs. Jensen’s brother-in-law seemed? The answer is no. Stop trying to fix me up.”
The tech came back into the room and started adjusting the settings for the MRI machine. Keith stepped back enough so that the guy couldn’t hear him.
“You need to have that conversation with your hormones, bud. I saw the way you were looking at him.”
“No reason I can’t look, is there? But looking is all I’m going to do. For all I know, he could have a boyfriend.”
Keith shook his head. “Not the way he was looking back at you. I’d almost be willing to put money on it. Besides, if he has a man, why wasn’t he the one who brought him in? No way in hell would I let some other guy take Maria to the hospital if she was hurt.”
Before Brandon could respond, the tech turned to Keith. “Dr. Nash, the patient’s heart-rate and breathing are both elevated. I think he’s having a reaction to being inside the machine.”
Keith swore. “The poor guy must be claustrophobic. None of the open MRIs were free?”
“No, sir.”
Keith thought for a moment, them pulled Brandon towards the desk. “Here, talk to him.”
“What?”
Keith pointed to the mike mounted on the desk. “Talk into the mike and he’ll be able to hear you. It might calm him down and take his mind off being inside the machine. Hell, you’re the one with a degree in forensic psychology. Don’t you think it’s worth a shot?”
Brandon knew enough about claustrophobia to know that panic at being inside a tight, closed space could escalate in a matter of seconds to a full blown anxiety attack. Brandon put his mouth to the mike.
“Nate, can you hear me?”
A shallow breath came through the speaker of the control panel. “Brandon?”
“Yeah, buddy, it’s me. You O.K.?”
Another shallow breath. “I’m alright. I just hate tight spaces. God, I am such a sissy. No wonder I’m a fag.”
Brandon smiled at the shocked look on the young tech’s face. “I don’t think being gay caused your claustrophobia, Nate. If you don’t calm down, though, you’re going to hyperventilate.”
“I’m trying, man. It’s not that easy. Remind me never to give another one of my patients the ‘fear is only in your mind’ lecture. That is so much bullshit.”
Keith and the tech both coughed to cover up their laughter. Brandon glared at his brother before going back to the mike. “Let’s try this. Close your eyes, can you do that?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I’m going to tell you some jokes. Just try not to laugh too much or you’ll move your head out of position.”
Keith said, “I’ve heard your jokes, brother. I don’t think we have that to worry about.”
- Writer
