Families are messy - 19

“I give up,” Casey muttered, throwing himself down on his sofa. “I suck at choosing women and at relationships.” He patted Duke’s head when the dog came to sit by the sofa and look sorrowfully at him. Of course sorrowful was the usual bloodhound expression but to Casey, in the mood he was in, it still seemed as if Duke was commiserating with him.

“Be glad you’ve been neutered,” Casey continued, looking at the bottle of Scotch sitting on the coffee table, an empty glass beside it just waiting to be filled. “No stress, no worries if the pretty lady dog down the street likes you ‘cause you can’t do anything about it anyway. Three squares,” he picked up the bottle, “a soft bed,” poured three fingers of Scotch into the glass, “and a whole backyard all your own to play in.”

Tossing back the drink, he coughed at the liquor hit his throat in a fiery rush, swallowed it, and poured another.

“But I’m not letting this latest fiasco get me down,” Casey stated adamantly. “I’ve got a good life and the fact that is doesn’t include a woman who gives a damn about me is not really important. Is it?” He addressed the question to Duke who answered with a shake of his head as if he actually understood.

Tossing back the next drink, Casey stared into the empty glass, frowning. “Damn this stuff is stronger than I thought, or the fact that I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast is letting it get to me faster than usual. Oh well, if I pass out here wake me in the morning dog. Okay?”  

Two more drinks and Casey was feeling no pain. In fact he wasn’t feeling much of anything at all. So he blearily accepted it when someone put an arm under his to help him stand. All he said was, “Wha...?” as the person steered him up the stairs to his bathroom. He was vaguely aware that he was being undressed as he was handed one more drink. He held it unsteadily, spilling more down his chin than he actually drank.

He was urged, naked, into the tub which was filled with warm water. His head fell back against the wall and then his hand was lifted and he felt something sharp press against his wrist.

* * * *

“Casey? Mr. Rothem?”

Casey struggled to open his eyes. He felt so tired, drained. When he finally got them open enough to see who was talking he didn’t recognize the woman. Or where he was he realized. It certainly wasn’t him home.

“Where?” he croaked out.

A gentle hand touched his forehead. “You’re in the hospital.”

He frowned, trying to remember, to figure out why. “Was I in... an accident?”

The woman, who he realized was a nurse, shook her head. “According to the EMTs you tried to kill yourself.”

“The hell I did,” he stated, angry that anyone would think that.

“Casey?” This voice was male and came from the other side of the bed. He turned his head carefully to see a doctor in scrubs standing there. The doctor picked up one of Casey’s hands, showing him the bandaged wrist. “You took an overdose of sleeping pills, with liquor, then climbed into the bathtub and tried to slit your wrist. At least that’s how it appeared when you were found.”

“Are you saying that’s not what happened?” The doctor turned to look at the speaker and Casey saw yet another person, the police officer who had asked that question.

“I am,” Casey told him, his voice soft but adamant.

“Then what did happen?” the officer asked.

Closing his eyes Casey tried to remember. Finally he said, “I came home and had a couple of drinks.” There was a long pause. “I remember thinking that they hit me pretty fast and figured it was ‘cause I hadn’t eaten since morning. Then...“

“Yes?”

“Someone else was there, I’m sure of it. Someone made me get up. I vaguely remember them helping me upstairs and, and that’s it.”

“You’re certain about that?”

“Yes,” Casey said wearily. Then he thought of something. “Duke.”

“That’s the name of the person you say was there with you?” the office asked.

“No. Duke’s my dog. He was there. He... he must have known the person.”

The officer skimmed back a couple of pages in his notebook. “The responding officer says there was a dog there, but he was in the backyard and the door was locked.”

“How... who found me?”

Again the officer checked his notes. “A woman. She said she banged on your front door, tried to call you, and got scared so she called 911 for help.”

“One of my neighbors?”

“No. A Miss Marcia Lamberti. She said she was a friend of yours.”

“She was, yes.”

The doctor had been keeping an eye on the monitors. Now he said to the officer, “Can any other questions wait for a while. Mr. Rothem needs to rest, undisturbed, right now.” He stressed ‘undisturbed’.

The officer’s mouth tightened but he nodded and left the room. Once he was gone the doctor checked Casey’s vitals, deemed him on his way to recovery, and told the nurse to call him if anything changed. The he too left.

Casey looked at the woman and said “Just how badly off am I?”

“Not as bad as the doctor made the cop think,” she replied with a smile. “You’ve had your stomach pumped, you were intubated on your way here which is why you might have a bit of a sore throat, and you lost some blood. Luckily whoever did that to you was an amateur. They cut across your wrist, not lengthwise.”

“So at least you believe I didn’t do this to myself?”

“Unless you’ve suddenly become left-handed, you bet. That’s another thing your attacker didn’t think about. Of course this is just me being the amateur detective, but I’m fairly certain I’m right.” She patted his shoulder before pulling the sheet up to his chin. “Now follow doctor’s orders and get some sleep. I’ll keep an eye on you, I promise.”

He glanced at her name tag before his eyes closed. “Thank you, Nurse Tabitha,” he murmured.

She smiled, saying as she turned away. “Just call me Tabby, everyone does.”