Page 25 of Rogue

“You can’t be in here, sir,” Jamal tells him pointedly.

“This’ll just take a second,” Rogue says without taking his eyes off mine.

“It’s fine,” I tell Jamal, and he just rolls his eyes, then leaves the room to take the bloodwork to the lab.

“I’m going to examine your hand now, Mrs. Diaz,” I say. “Will you let me?”

She presses her bandaged hand harder against her chest and winces. “It hurts. But it will heal. I wrapped it up nice.”

In places, the fluids from the infection had already started seeping through the gauze.

“I need to see, Mrs. Diaz,” I tell her gently. “Will you let me?”

“It hurts,” she says. “But it will heal just fine.”

She keeps glancing at Rogue and back at me.

“You really shouldn’t be here, Rogue,” I tell him. “I’ll see you later.”

“Rogue? What kind of name is that? It means something bad… like rascal, no?” Mrs. Diaz asks him.

He walks over to the other side of the bed and takes her uninjured hand. “You can call me Gabriel, ma’am. Why don’t we talk while the nice doctor examines your hand. She won’t hurt you. She’s very good.”

She has eyes only for him now. I’m not surprised. That charisma is literally pouring from him now.

“Gabriel like the angel?” she asks and hardly reacts as I take her hand gently, but she still doesn’t relax it enough to let me unwrap the makeshift bandage.

He smiles at her. “Exactly like the angel, yes. My mother is very religious. She gave all her kids names from the bible. Are you religious?”

She nods.

“Why don’t we pray while the nice lady doctor makes your hand better?”

Mrs. Diaz looks at me and I smile and nod. “It won’t hurt a bit. I’ll give you something for the pain. And I’ll be done very quickly.”

Mrs. Diaz swallows hard and nods then looks back at Rogue and squeezes his hand. He starts praying with her in Latin of all things.

He’d make a great priest, I’ll give him that. For a few moments even I can’t help just listening to his lulling, caringsound of his voice. Then I remember I have work to do and get to it.

Mrs. Diaz is so engrossed in Rogue’s prayer that she hardly flinches as I unwrap her hand even though the bandage is already stuck to her burned skin in places.

The burn isn’t as bad as I expected, but the paramedics were right, it is infected. Burns usually get that way fast, especially in older people.

Jamal is standing by the door, holding the saline and a box of bandages, just watching us.

I irrigate the burn as the best I can then call him over to finish setting up Mrs. Diaz’s IV.

“And I want to start her on antibiotics,” I tell him.

Mrs. Diaz is laying back now, her eyes closed, her pulse and blood pressure in normal range.

I wait for Rogue to get to the Amen.

“Your hand will heal nicely, Mrs. Diaz,” I tell her once he does and she opens her eyes again. “But I have to examine your leg now and Gabriel needs to leave.”

She smiles at him. “That was very nice. Almost as nice as Sunday Mass that Father Rojas holds. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he tells her. “I will be going now, but you’re in good hands.”

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