Not his, not Daysi’s, not the hospital. Where, then? Too much of this, changing beds daily like a fugitive. The shades were drawn, but he could make out a dresser, a mirror, blue and white striped sheets on a queen-size bed, shared with the teddy bear beside him; not right. What did he have, a sprained ankle? Esposito had a concussion, a broken leg. Nothing that he wouldn’t come back from. He hadn’t even been admitted to the hospital. Hitting the EMT must have had great therapeutic value. Esposito became the most cheerful patient after, pretending he didn’t remember. When Odalys checked him into the emergency room, he acted the amnesiac, asking why she wasn’t working with the other one. She didn’t push the issue. When her partner came over, keeping his distance, Esposito put on such a show of innocent apology that they shook hands when he left. Nick didn’t believe it. “You really don’t remember? Espo, you are full of shit.” “Are you kidding? My children being born, punching that rat—if those memories cross my mind when I go, they’ll bury me with a smile on my face.”
