Bad Games

69



It was still dark outside when Patrick opened his eyes again. The steady hum of the hospital and all its gadgets therein provided a decent white noise that, in any other condition, would have sent him off to dreamland almost instantly. The stab wound on his stomach, however, was throbbing just enough to keep him awake.

He turned to his left and saw his wife rolled on her side, looking back at him.

“Hi, baby,” he said. “Can’t sleep either?”

“I’ve been in and out since that nightmare,” she said.

“It was a bad one huh?”

She sighed. “Yeah. How ’bout you? You were moaning in your sleep just now.”

“I was?”

“Yeah.”

“My stomach hurts,” he said. “Must’ve been that.”

“I’ll kiss it all better when we get home,” she said.

He smiled. “It feels better already.”

Amy rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling. The sound of two nurses chatting started faint, grew loud, then went faint again as they walked past their door.

“You know what I don’t get?” Patrick asked.

Amy turned her head back to her husband. “What?”

“Crescent Lake,” he said.

“What about it?”

“That lake is square. It’s not even remotely crescent-shaped.”

Amy said, “You just realized that now?”

“Well, no, but…”

“Only my husband could have a menial epiphany like that at a time like this.”

He smirked. “I guess we can figure out how the place got its name when we leave the hospital.”

“Knock yourself out, baby. Me? I’m staying as far away from that f*cking lake as possible.” She rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. “Goodnight.”