The Poor Samaritan
The bull's fist missed my jaw by less than an inch.
It played out in slow motion bursts, and not where I wanted to. It was the spaces during the pain that slowed down, the pain slipping through my body like shivers. Just my luck that the moments when I needed to react seemed to speed by like cars on a freeway.
Yet I was lucky. I found myself landing blows where I didn't expect to. Maybe the bull was just slow, dunk, or both. Eventually I had him pinned against the wall, my hands pressed against his biceps, one of my feet stomping on his.
"You should think with your head instead of your dick next time." I told him in a raspy whisper.
Amy stood at the table where we were eating at before, her hand clutching the back of the chair as she leaned softly on it.
"Maybe this'll help you set your priorities straight." I said.
Surprised at my own strength, I lunged my knee upward, between his legs.
His face started to fold in on itself in pain. The bull's eyes winced, his lips pressed together and his nostrils bent inward. As I pulled my leg away, he seemed to crumple together like a used tissue, falling to the ground and laying on his side.
Finally, justice prevails. I swaggered over to Amy, grinning as if I were a schoolboy who was told he could go home early. Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape in shock. She must have not expected me to stand up for her like that.
The same way I didn't expect her palm to sting the left side of my face. The same way I didn't expect her scowl at me. The same way I didn't expect her voice to escalate.
"God, Jeremy! I'm so fucking tired of this. He bought me a drink, asshole! He never invited me over to his house, he didn't flirt, he didn't say a word to me!"
She picked up her purse and dropped a few bills on the table. "We're through, Jeremy. Go home and never talk to me again."
I tried to grasp her wrist.
"Wait, Amy, please! It won't happen again. I just want to protect you!"
She pulled herself away.
"Get the hell off of me. I don't know who you think I am, but I'm not your property!"
And she was gone. People had been staring at me for the whole exchange. The restaurant slowly resumed its din of sound, a slight gap allowing a whimper from the bull to penetrate my mind. Amy's parting words echoing and underscoring the noises he made.
I knelt down and let my hand rest at his side.
"Are you okay?"
Tears were streaming from his eyes. "It hurts..."
"Do...do you want some ice or something?"
"An ambulance...call an ambulance...oh god it hurts..."
A waiter arrived with a bag of ice, confused as to why I would still be here, but he didn't ask questions while I dialed 911. I told the operator the location of the restaurant, how the bull had been injured but left out that it was my fault, and she gave me an approximate time when an ambulance would arrive.
In the five or so minutes while we waited, I comforted the bull, whispering things like "It's okay," and "Everything's going to be fine," the irony almost audible in my voice. I tipped the waiter for his help and gave him the cash to cover the meal that Amy and I ate.
I felt lost. I barely noticed the arrival of the paramedics, and I rode in the ambulance with him only because I had nowhere else to go. I just stared at the pained expression on the bull's face, never checking to see the time, how close to the hospital we were, nothing like that.
"Are you two related?" The question pulled me from my stupor. A young EMT had asked me, keeping a cold pack on the bull's groin. I shook my head.
"No, we had a fight."
"Oh, so you're his domestic partner?"
"No, he bought my girlfriend a drink and I..." The words gathered in my throat, a jumbled mess of what I wanted to really say. "...I reacted poorly."
"Ah. Well, when we get inside, you'll have to stay in the waiting room."
"Okay," I replied, going back to stare at the bull's face. He kept his eyes closed.
I sat in the waiting room for an hour, half that time filling out paperwork of the incident. I couldn't stop thinking about what she said and what he felt. I thought I was supposed to be the connection, but it felt empty. I felt like I was ripped off, like I was missing out on something right in front of me. I knew there was no hope of getting Amy back, but I couldn't deny my own desire to fix all of the problems I caused.
"Jeremy?"
I looked up, one of the doctors was addressing me. "Is it all right if I call you that?"
"It's fine."
"You came with mister Montague, correct?"
"I don't know his name."
"Groin injury?"
"Yes." I said.
"Right. It's fairly serious. Testicular Torsion. Basically, his left testicle was twisted around and the blood supply was cut off. There's some damage from what we can tell, but that will heal. We were successfully able to untwist it though, so fortunately surgery won't be necessary. But there's another problem. He doesn't have any insurance."
"I can pay." I found myself saying to him.
"Are you sure? Uninsured, the cost can be surprisingly high."
"I'll pay what I can, then."
It was six hundred dollars. I was saving my money for a weekend cruise with Amy, and it was almost as much as I had set aside at that point.
"How much for a private room?"
"That's another one-oh-four."
"Then add that in please."
The nurse nodded and updated my total, sapping all of my funds for the vacation.
I called a taxi and went home.
The next morning, I woke up to my phone ringing. Too groggy to answer, I let the machine pick it up.
"Uh, this is Ron. From the hospital. I just wanted to call and thank you for everything. The police asked me if I wanted to press charges, but I decided not to. If you don't mind, I...I'd like to call your girl."
I sat up. Was it true? Did I seriously just pay the hospital bill of a guy who wanted to get with my ex on the rebound? The one who caused this problem in the first place?
"I want to tell her what you did for me. You seemed different in the hospital than you did before. She should know. You can call my cell."
He left me his number and hung up.
I still missed her.