Who's sorry now?

nourishing,” Dr. McCoy reminded her. Then he said to Parker, ”Get a good long hot shower and even a nap if you can manage it. I’ll eat here with you at six if you think of more questions you want to ask. Now follow Nurse Hawkin.”
    Ron did as he was told. Nurse Hawkin wanted to show him both available rooms, but Parker said she should choose. Either one would be fine with him.
    She complimented him on being such a good young man and said to ring down to her if he needed anything. ”I could find you some magazines to read if you want.”
    ”I couldn’t read anything right now. I just need to get clean and into a bed to think about today.”
    She shook his hand and went away, closing the door behind herself.
    Parker threw off all his clothes and took the long hot shower the doctor had prescribed. He dried off, put on the robe that was hanging on the back of the bathroom door, and tested out the bed. It was nice and hard the way he liked beds. And had nice soft sheets. He’d always been told that hospital sheets were starched into boards you had to make bend.
    The shower had eased the ache in his shoulder, and in spite of himself he fell fast asleep for almost two hours.
    He hated getting dressed in his slightly bloodstained uniform, but there was nothing he could do about it. At least the uniform was dark blue and the dry blood hardly showed. He did call Nurse Hawkin and asked if he could have a toothbrush and a clothing brush if he came down to her desk.
    ”I’ll have them sent up to you. You need to rest all you can.”
    Moments later a cute young nurse knocked on his door. ”Nurse Hawkin said you needed these. But that she could do a better job than any man at getting blood out of clothing if you want to send yours down. They’ll be back in an hour. Please let me take your jacket and trousers to her. Your shirt, too, if you need it cleaned.”
    ”I probably do. I got blood all over myself.”
    He gathered up his pile of outwear and bundled it up for her. No reason to send his underwear along with such a pretty young girl. He’d be able to change it tomorrow when he got home.
    True to her promise, she was back in an hour with the uniform jacket, trousers, and shirt on hangers, smelling fresh and still warm from an iron. He thanked her and hung them in the closet.
    ”Are you married, Deputy Parker, if you don’t mind my asking?”
    ”No, I’m not,” he said, fearing that he was blushing slightly.
    ”Neither am I.” And with that she smiled and slipped out of the room, rattling slightly in her starchy nurse clothing.
    Deputy Parker met Dr. McCoy at the door of the hospital cafeteria at six, as planned.
    ”How’s my boss doing?”
    ”Very well. He’s still not fully awake but his blood pressure is good, his temperature is normal. We’re still giving him some drugs for the pain. But I think it’s likely he’ll come through fine. Let’s go through the line and you can ask the rest of your questions while we eat.”
    Parker chose macaroni and cheese, two slices of meat loaf, green beans, and a roll. The macaroni was undercooked and tasteless. The meat loaf was overcooked and also tasteless. The green beans were old and tough. The roll was delicious.
    ”Sorry I suggested this,” Dr. McCoy said. ”We should have gone to the restaurant across the street. It’s slightly better.” Both of them pushed their plates away and Dr. McCoy said, ”Have you thought of more questions?”
    ”A few. How long will you have to keep Chief Walker here?”
    ”At least five days. We need to watch carefully for infection. And I’ll tell you a few other things. The inside stitches in the artery will be there forever. They may be uncomfortable as they stiffen up. He might want to come back in a year or so and we’ll lightly sedate him and remove them when the artery is thoroughly sealed up. It will be up to him.”
    ”You’ll explain all this to him before he leaves?”
    ”Of course. The arm is going to be sore for a while. He might want to keep it in a sling so he doesn’t accidentally use it too much.”
    ”Is the circulation in the rest of the arm okay?”
    ”Amazingly so. No bruising in the hand. He’s a durable man. Do you happen to know his age?”
    ”No. I’ve only been his deputy for a short time, but I met him earlier when I worked for another chief of police. I’d guess a little over thirty.”
    ”I’ll be able to ask him when he comes around,” Dr. McCoy said. ”But that would be my