Composed at Randy’s (Diner Days)

3. Wren

Chapter 3

Wren

I wake up confused and dizzy. What the hell happened?

The ceiling I'm staring at is completely unfamiliar and the room smells weird and sterile. I can hear hushed voices outside the room, and they don't sound remotely familiar.

Shit. I think I'm in a hospital.

This is seriously no bueno.

I mean, I live in a really liberal area, but it's still nerve-wracking to go to a hospital as a trans guy without someone else there to hold my hand. Doctors can be a bit weird about things like trans folk.

I need to call Kai. No, wait. Kai is gone. So is Marty. Oh gods, so is Shelly. What do I do?

Can I call my publicist? No, I don't know how to get in contact with her. Hell, I don't even know her name. Dammit, me. Why do I have to be like this?

The door opens, and the voices get less muffled.

“I'm sorry, Bael, but you need to wait outside. Patient-doctor confidentiality, remember?”

“I just want to see if he's okay. Then I'll leave.”

“He'll be fine. Now fuck off before I slam the door in your face.” The voice sounds more amused than threatening, and I'm oddly comforted by this.

A tall woman with light brown skin enters the room and asks, “Hi, honey. How are you feeling?” Her eyes are warm and reassuring.

“Honey?” I ask. Doctors don’t usually call patients honey.

“Shit, I'm sorry, we tend to be informal here. I'd call you by your name if I knew what it was, but Bael didn't know, so here we are.”

“My name is Wren. Can you tell me where I am, please?” Yes, I said please. A little bit of politeness goes a long way, especially when you're in a strange and unfamiliar environment.

“We’re in my private practice, and I promise you’re perfectly safe here. No, don't sit up, and don't move until I take out your IV.”

“My what?” I turn my head and see I'm attached to a tube coming out of a clear bag filled with fluid. I shiver a little because, ew, needles.

“First things first, Wren. Can you tell me your pronouns? Mine are she/her.”

That answers a question I hadn't even gotten a chance to ask myself—whether or not she'd noticed I was trans while I was unconscious. She seems pretty cool about it, and I can physically feel the tension leave my body.

Phew. I am so glad nice people found my dumb, unconscious ass instead of mean ones.

Go me!

“He/him. Thanks for asking.” I give Doctor Nice Lady my sunniest smile. “Are you the one who found me?”

“No, that was Bael. He?—"

The door opens again and in walks a big, scary dude in leather who looks like he can and will eat three of me for breakfast if he wants to. “Did I hear my name?” His voice is like smooth, dark amber honey, and, oh my god, he has freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose.

Absolutely delicious.

I get all tingly in the pants region immediately. It could be the voice, or maybe the piercings. Or the dog collar. Or the way he needed to stoop slightly to get through the door frame… It could be a lot of things. I want to climb him and get my tingles all over him.

“Get out, Bael.” Doctor Nice Lady shouts.

“But you said my name!”

“Doctor-patient confidentiality, Bael! Look it up!”

“But I’m the one who found him.” The big, scary man starts pouting and transforms into a big, adorable man.

Oh, my…

Doctor Nice Lady grabs Bael by one arm, turns him around, and shoves him back out the door. She slams it behind him and shouts through the door, “Get your ass down the hallway, Bael, and stop listening, or so help me god, I’ll tell Trina to dye your hair neon orange!”

She turns around and her expression transforms from irritated to kind in a flash. “Sorry about that, Wren. Bael means well, but he’s not great at thinking before he acts.”

“He’s the one who brought me here?” I ask. My fingers pull at my sleeve anxiously. “Does he know about?—”

Doctor Nice Lady holds up one finger in a wait-a-second gesture, walks over to the door, and kicks it hard. On the other side, I hear, “Ow! Fuck! What the hell, Gwen?”

“I’m texting Trina right now, you asshole!”

“Shit. I’m going, I’m going.” The sound of exaggerated footsteps echoes down the hall, and Bael’s voice is far away when he calls out, “Don’t call Trina!”

There’s a vacuum left in the wake of Bael’s departure, and I’m left feeling like part of me went with him.

It’s probably the tingly part if I’m being honest with you.

“So…” I say, adding an awkward little cough, because I’m totally at sea here, folks.

I mean, what the fuck am I even supposed to be doing right now? This is what I have Kai for. If he was here right now, he’d have Doctor Nice Lady’s credentials up on his phone, have Marty on his way back from Brazil, and have Shelly shifting the date for my next opening to adjust for any downtime I might hypothetically need. He’d also be yelling at me in a firm but kind way about how I got into this shape in the first place. He’d also make a Google Doc with ways to prevent it from happening again and share it with Marty and Shelly.

He'd do it all at the same time and probably manage to get me a smoothie on top of that. Like, one of those gross green ones that no one likes but everyone pretends to. It’s the worst form of punishment Kai has been able to come up with for me, and let me tell you, it is effective as fuck. I nearly gag just thinking about it.

Doctor Nice Lady smiles at me encouragingly, almost like she knows that I’m all but useless without my Kai and wants to give me time to get my shit together. I decide to try my best to reward her for her patience.

“Your name isn’t Doctor Nice Lady,” I state firmly and wait for her incredulous laugh to pass before plowing boldly forward. People always have that sort of, oh, isn’t he just fucking adorable reaction around me, and I’ve learned to make room for it in conversations. “So you should tell me what to call you.”

“You can just call me Gwen. Everyone here does.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, Gwen. What questions should I be asking you right now?”

Kai taught me this trick. When you don’t know what the hell is going on, this is the best place to start. It makes you sound smart and thoughtful and makes the person you’re talking to have a good opinion of you. Unfortunately for me, it’s the biggest bullet in my gun of life hacks. If I can’t figure out what to do with what the person gives me, it becomes immediately evident, and I get downgraded to practically a child status.

I hate that status. I’m already a shorty and am subjected to more than my fair share of head pats. I’ve kind of gotten used to it, though.

So I’m delighted when Gwen goes into a nice, long monologue with the list of questions she’d ask if she were me, and then answers them as she goes. This is what I learn:

1. I passed out on the street from exhaustion, dehydration, and malnutrition. (I’ll be honest with you; I’m secretly impressed that I managed to achieve the full trifecta.)

2. Bael found me, snatched me up, carted me off, and presented me to Gwen like a half-dead, stray animal.

3. I’m not in horrible shape, though, and should be fine in a few days if I take care of myself.

4. Gwen wasn’t a huge fan of treating me without my consent because it’s highly illegal, and she fought tooth and nail to send me to a hospital.

5. Bael refused and strong-armed her into it by saying he’d just take me somewhere else if she didn’t treat me, and did she really want it on her conscience if something bad happened to me?

6. Gwen definitely knows I’m trans, doesn’t give a shit, and is really only hoping I don’t sue the pants off her. She’s okay with me suing Bael, though, because he’s a well-meaning dumbass who deserves it. Her words, not mine.

I decide to address the last issue because Gwen is super nice and doesn’t deserve to be left worrying if her good deed is going to fuck up her life.

“I’m not going to rat you out. I’m glad you helped me, Gwen, because going to a hospital isn’t an option for me right now.” Without Kai or Marty advocating for me, I’d be lost in a sea of paperwork and explaining myself over and over again.

“Wonderful! I love being able to eat every day, and having a job helps me achieve this goal.” Gwen does something with the IV bag hanging above me, but I don’t look because I want my stomach to stay right-side-in, thank you. When she’s satisfied with what she sees, she freezes and looks down at me. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me to say.”

Uhhh… what?

My mind has to chew on that for nearly a minute before I realize she’s trying to be cool about the shitty shape I’ve gotten myself into and not draw too much attention to how stupid a person would have to be in order to get where I am now.

“Oh, well… you know…” I trail off because I want to tell her it’s okay that she’s noticed my challenges, but she’s being so nice about everything that I want to be nice back and not make her call me stupid directly to my face. I don’t know how to follow that up, so I jump to the next hot topic. “Are you the only one who knows I’m trans?”

Gwen’s face softens, going from anxious to reassuring. “Bael is the only other person who knows you’re here, and I didn’t tell him. I may be his friend, but you’re my patient, and you’re the only person who gets to decide who knows your personal information.”

Aw! Gwen really deserves to be called Doctor Nice Lady. This shit may seem like common sense, but sometimes you just need to check.

“So he doesn’t know?”

“I have no idea if he does or not, but Bael is about as safe as they come. If he does know, he’d rather die than out someone without their permission.”

I nod as I realize that I used up a ton of luck today by getting found by the right person.

There’s a soft knock on the door, and I hear Bael say, “Gwen, can I please come in now? I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

Gwen gives me a funny look. “It’s up to Wren.”

“His name is Wren?” This is said with all the enthusiasm of a golden retriever puppy being presented with his first ball. “Can I come in, Wren? I promise not to be weird.”

“No way!” I yell at the door. “You can only come in if you promise to be as weird as possible.”

The door slams open so hard that it bounces back and nearly hits Bael in the face as he enters. “Oops! Sorry, I get excited sometimes.” He hurries over to my cot and kneels down. “Are you feeling okay?”

Huh. Actually, I haven’t really stopped to ask myself that question. I’ve been so caught up in the novelty of waking up in a strange place that I haven’t checked in with my body.

Wow. I feel like shit. My head is spinning, the world is soft and fuzzy, and my stomach is killing me.

“I’ve been better,” I answer.

Bael turns to Gwen, “You were supposed to fix him.”

“I’d be further along with that if someone didn’t keep barging in here and interrupting me.”

Bael shoots to his feet. “Who’s doing that? I’ll make sure they don’t get back in.” He glances back and forth between me and Gwen, waiting for one of us to illuminate him.

“I don’t know. I just woke up,” I admit. “Gwen told me you’re the only person who knows I‘m here, so whoever keeps barging in and interrupting Gwen must be really unobservant. Or maybe she stood directly in front of me the entire time so they couldn’t see me? If so, I wish I’d been awake to see it, because that sounds tricky as hell.”

You know that funny look Gwen had on her face earlier? It’s back, but, like, with an added flavor of something I can’t quite put my finger on.

“That does sound tricky. I’d like to see it too,” Bael agreed.

“Right? I’ve seen it done on TV, but in real life, I’ve always wondered if it was really possible. How did you do it, Gwen?”

“Maybe she had to take a course for it as part of getting her medical license.” Bael strokes his chin thoughtfully.

“That makes sense. I imagine doctors have to know all kinds of special tricks to keep their patients safe.”

Gwen’s funny look has gotten so funny that I’m mildly concerned she’s going to need her own doctor soon, and I’m not quite done with her yet. But maybe if they call a doctor for Gwen, that doctor can also help me while they’re here.

“Are you two… Wait, are you pranking me right now, Bael? You two have actually met before, and this is just a really bad joke, right?”

Constipation. I think that the extra flavor in Gwen’s expression is constipation. I hope for her sake she’s able to take care of that issue once I’m off her hands.

“Why would I joke about something like this, Gwen? You should have seen him when he fell! You nearly scared the life out of me, Wren.”

“Sorry,” I say as I reach up to rub my dizzy head. “I didn’t mean to. And if this is a joke, I missed the punchline.”

“I refuse to believe there are two people like you out there,” Gwen mutters.

“There are plenty of hot, awesome people in the world, Gwen. You’re just too cynical.” Bael gives Gwen the sweetest smile.

I nod emphatically until my head swims, because not only is Bael right, he also just said I’m hot and awesome, and I need to make sure that gets acknowledged.

Gwen just sort of sighs a please just let me get some rest sigh and then moves on from the conversation. It was getting late when I crashed, and the windows are dark now. It’s probably well past her bedtime. “Wren, is there someone I can call for you?”

My mind whirrs and clicks as I try to get it to cough up a phone number for her to call, but it comes up null program. “Sorry. I can’t think of anyone you can call right now.” I wish I’d memorized at least one number in my contact tree. Even an intern at Shelly’s office would be better than no one.

How fucking embarrassing. I know I’m being cagey with my words, but come on. How eager would you be to admit to perfect strangers that you don’t know a single piece of contact information that could help you reach your loved ones?

Until this exact moment, I’ve always thought Kai was being overly strict with how he manages me, but now I realize he’s been coddling the shit out of me.

If I were him, I wouldn’t let me out of the house without a bodyguard.

“You need someone to keep an eye on you for a few days until you feel better, Wren. Are you sure there isn’t anyone you can contact?” Gwen’s face is scrunched up in concern.

It doesn’t matter how many times I ask it; my brain keeps coming up with a big fat goose egg. “I’m sorry, but there really isn’t. Everyone is gone.”

Both Bael and Gwen look really sad right now, and I’m right there with them. I miss all three members of the Wren support crew, and I can’t wait to see them again. Bael and Gwen are probably able to pick that up from me.

I don’t want them to be sad, though, so I smile and say, “But don’t worry! I’m really good at being on my own.” Big lie. “I can totally recover from this by myself. No problem.” Huge fucking lie. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me, I promise.” Great big, huge motherfucking lie. “I’m basically good to leave now if you need me to go.” That’s the Titanic of lies right there, and if they take me up on it, I will crash, burn, and sink without leaving survivors. I don’t think I could even walk five steps right now without keeling over, let alone find my way home without my phone.

If there is a god, they’re probably watching this show through their fingers in horror right now.

“I’m sorry, Wren, but I’m going to have to insist,” Gwen says firmly. “I’ve already violated half of my professional morals by treating you this evening. I can’t treat you here long term because this is a private practice, and I can’t let you leave here alone either. We need to find a solution that will allow me to continue sleeping at night.”

Oh thank JesusBuddhaFrankChristMacGee. If she’d said yes, I would probably die moments after leaving.

When I tell you Kai would be pissed…

I’d be lucky I was dead, otherwise, he’d make me do something horrible like help him with my taxes.

He did that once.

I never forgot to put my shoes away again.

Shudder.

“He can hang out with me for a few days.”

Gwen and I both turn to gape at Bael.

“He’s not a stray kitten, Bael. You can’t stick him in a box with a towel and a bowl of food.”

Actually, he probably could if the towel was clean, the box was big, and the food was pizza. I’m pretty small. I’m also really sleepy right now, so any flat surface not covered in bees will do. Also, spending a day or so getting to know Bael doesn’t sound like the worst thing that could happen. It’s certainly better than pretending I’m well long enough to leave here and then pass out cold in an alley as soon as I’m out of sight.

“I’m fine with Bael taking care of me if Bael is,” I announce.

Gwen looks at me like I’ve gone insane. “Seriously? You’re willing to put yourself in the hands of a total stranger? What if he turns out to be a serial murderer?”

“Hey!”

”He doesn’t look like a serial murderer.” I point at Bael in his leather harness, eyebrow piercing, leather dog collar, and towering physique. Nope. No red flags there that I can see.

“No one looks like a serial murderer, Wren.”

“I’m not a serial murderer!” Bael cries indignantly, and I notice his mouth is a beautiful cherry red. I’m not mentioning this to you for any particular reason. I just feel like it’s information you might want to know.

“See? He says he’s not.”

“How are you still alive right now, Wren? Maybe I should just take you home with me,” Gwen says in concern.

“I thought you liked me, Gwen.” Bael looks and sounds like a kicked golden retriever puppy. “Do you really think I kill people for fun?”

“Of course not, Bael. You’re a fucking angel, but Wren doesn’t know that.”

“Well, I do now. Consider me informed.” My eyelids are getting pretty heavy now, and the dizziness is starting to take over. I’d really like to stop being an adult now. I yawn hard enough to suck in a low-flying bird. Fortunately, we’re inside, so it’s a nonissue.

“Ugh. Fine!” Gwen throws up her hands. “I’ll let you take him, Bael, but if you ask me what I’m talking about when I check in with you tomorrow, I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

Bael’s eyes go wide. “I would never!”

“You’d better not.” Gwen gives him a death glare. Then she shuts it off and gives me all of her attention. Her hand is warm and gentle as she runs her fingers through my hair. “You must be tired, honey. You still need to finish your IV before I let you go, so you can sleep if you need to.”

Things fade in and out for a bit as my eyes lose the fight to stay open, and I hear Gwen say, “Bael, I’m texting a list of instructions to your manager. At the very least, I can trust that Harvey can keep this poor boy alive.”

“I’m not going to let him die. He’s not a fish.”

That’s the last thing I hear before I fall asleep.