TBBM XXXVI. Lady Birthmark

"Patient's name?" the nurse interrogated me as she filled out her checklist.

"Red McIntyre."

"How long was he passed out?"

"About thirty minutes."

"Your name and relationship to the patient?"

"Oh!" I suddenly got nervous. "We're not really related---"

"She's my girlfriend," I heard Red's voice echoing from the bed. He was trying to sit straight up despite the obvious pain on his face.

My eyes rounded.

"I'm so not your girlfriend," I reproved his argument, walking closer to him. "People are looking---"

"C'mon!" he rubbed the back of his hand to his nostrils. "You talk like you are at a disadvantage."

"He's so cool," I could hear some girls peering through the curtains that divided each bed.

"You can continue with your love fight later," one of the attending nurse said as they started checking his vitals.

"L-love fight?" I gaped, shaking my head.

"What happened to you, Sir?" the doctor stepped in. She took the seat beside his bed. "Did you ingest anything new to you?"

"Munchkin," "Milk cheese," I and Red answered at the same time.

"I see," the doctor looked at me and him before she went on. "Do you think it's bad or stale---"

"He said he's lactose intolerant," "I think I'm intolerant," I and Red responded at the same time, again.

The nurses were smiling at us. The doctor looked at me and him again, surprised.

"Let's see where it hurts," the doctor pulled his shirt up, revealing his abdominal muscles. He was sweating. But that somehow looked attractive on him. If that were me sweating, I'd probably look awful. He could he manage to look attractive even when sick.

I could hear the nurses muffling their scream. The doctor had been pressing different sections of his body.

"Oh, it's hard," she remarked. "Does it hurt?"

"No," Red seemed to be having fun. He was smiling despite his pain.

I made face. How could he be acting that way, flirting with the doctor?

"I mean, yes," he stopped when he saw me. "A little bit."

"How about here?" the doctor pressed on his stomach area. "It's tough here, too."

"Yes, doc," Red grunted, but he was smiling, too.

"Here on the sides?" the doctor pressed on his side muscles."

"No," Red was smiling at me while he got checked. "Not there."

He was so annoying.

"A-hurm," I hawked.

"Looks like your girl here is about to kill me," the doctor told Red. Then she faced me. "I'm sorry, I was just trying to be funny."

"I'm not his girlfriend," I clarified, pulling his shirt back down. "I just didn't want him to be all gassy. That's all."

She smiled and discussed with the aides.

"Dude," a male nurse came over and hooked him up to the dextrose. "When your girlfriend says she's not your girlfriend, you are so dead."

"Yeah, she can be scary. I fear for my life," he grinned while closing his eyes in pain.

His temperature was 38 degrees centigrade. They injected pain reliever into his IV and drew some blood. Soon he was dozing off quietly. He would occasionally grunt in pain but in about fifteen minutes of the medicine, his face started to relax. His clothes soaked in his perspiration but we had no spare clothes for him. I picked up my similarly sweated cardigan and dried him up. I let it sit in his back after.

"Girlfriend," I smiled. "You must be delirious. Whoever ends up with you must be up for a pretty tough life. Every other girl likes you."

I placed my palm on his forehead to see how he was faring with the fever. It had slightly gone down.

It was a good thing that James lent me his phone---actually, I hadn't really asked him when I had to return it by. But at least, this time, my mother would not worry about me since I had a way to tell her of my whereabouts.

But then, I wondered if it was safe to tell her that I was here looking after Red? She thought I was being careless with him. Even worse, should I tell James? He specifically told me to keep distance from Red. It wouldn't be nice if I disobeyed him and he ended up telling my mother about Red.

"But he apologised," I defended Red to myself. Actually, did that even count as an apology?

I want you to know that that night wasn't my best.

I wasn't very proud of my behaviour.

I promise you I won't treat you poorly like that again.

I kept hearing his voice. It gave me goosebumps every time I relived the moment when he was saying those things.

But whatever argument I formed, a part of me knew that deep inside me, I was sold. He didn't really apologise but why did it feel like he gave me even more than just a plain 'sorry'?

Dub dub. Dub dub.

Dub dub. Dub dub.

My heart raced again.

After allot of hesitations, I ended up dropping James a message.

"I'm here in the hospital. My classmate got sick and I was assigned to accompany---can you vouch for me, to mom?" I sent.

A few minutes later, my phone started ringing. James was calling me.

"Are you alright?" he spoke on the other line, catching his breath.

"Yeah," I answered. "You? You're panting."

"I uh..." he paused. "I excused myself from class for a bit and ran to the comfort room."

"Don't worry about me. I'm---"

"It's Red, isn't it?" he cut me.

I froze.

"I knew it," he sighed. I could imagine his face. "Jap---remember what I told you?"

"James," I called. "He's not all bad, really. He's actually sick now and---"

"I don't think so," his tone sounded dismayed. "If I see him, I might actually hit him once to warn him of how he treats you."

"Jim-jim," I babytalked.

James didn't really usually display his annoyance. Whenever he got mad, he usually just kept quiet and talked his feelings out on me privately. I only saw him got into a fight twice, in the two years that I'd known him. He said it was a locker room thing with the boys in the basketball team. I liked it when he was being protective of me like that. But I didn't really wish for him and Red to fight.

"I hate it that he's always taking you from me," he said, taking a big gulp.

I froze again. I wanted to be filled with joy hearing James almost say that he wanted me to himself alone; but I looked over my shoulder to the hospital bed as Red grabbed my hand again and put it in his stomach, like some toddler who couldn't speak of his pain.

At that point, I wondered if it was worth it disappointing my bestfriend, the love of my life, for the sake of Red.

I waited impatiently until they delivered the results of Red's laboratory tests. They said it couldn't be just a simple lactose intolerance since his temperature was high. It should be out in a few minutes.

Just then, Red's phone vibrated. His dad was calling him. I realised that they must be looking for him ever since this morning. Nina said he was sick and took off.

"I wanted to see you," I remembered him say.

If that were true, I was responsible for him getting sick like this, somehow.

"H-hello," I picked up the phone.

"Red. Son?" a man spoke from the other end.

"Mr. McIntyre," I stuttered. "I'm J-Jopet. You've met---"

"Oh Dear!" his voice grew fonder. "Where are you and my son?"

"Uhm... in the Emergency Room. His stomach got sick or something. But he's set to get treated, you mustn't worry."

"I was worried, earlier. But he's got you. I know you'll take care of my son."

"Eh?"

"Can you send me your location? We'll be there shortly. That lad was supposed to get seen by our doctor again earlier but he disappeared all of a sudden. We thought he was going to squander away time in some bars but he ended up with you so I'm thankful."

"I didn't really---" the line died even before I could speak.

I found myself even more confused than before. His father spoke to me like I was some guardian angel sent to his son to save him from wasting away. How did I get tangled into his life like this? Before him, I only wanted one thing---the place always next to James. But now, I even disappoint James, for trying to take care of him.

I sat at the lobby beside an elderly woman as I lost myself in that whirlwind of thoughts.

"Paging L-lady B-birthmark," the announcer wasn't sure how to read the name properly.

No one among us waiting in the lobby came over.

"Lady Birthmark. Calling on Lady Birthmark?" she repeated.

I thought my condition was bad. I'd been blamed in our small town for unexpected misfortunes because I had a birthmark in the bum. I myself suffered the said misfortunes. But little did I know, that somewhere, someplace, someone had an even more distressing fate than me. Her last name was birthmark.

"Lady Birthmark. Lady Birthmark," the nurse opened the door and looked around. No one was coming forward.

"Dearie," the elderly woman beside me nudged me. "What did she say she was looking for?"

"Uh," I smiled. "I don't know, a girl named Lady Birthmark---?"

That moment, fear descended on me.