"How do you treat people? You should all be sued! Lily, film the whole thing with your phone! Everyone should see the staff here. And these are doctors?"
"Mum! Stop it!"
"Ladies, calm down. You're grown women. Why are you acting like children?"
"You're not even a doctor. What are you? Just a nurse? Let go of me!"
"What do you mean, just a nurse? What kind of discrimination is that? Do you know that many nurses know more than many doctors! I will not allow you to insult my colleagues! Call security! Come back when you have calmed down and thought about everything," Dr Orwell said, pushing them forcefully towards the door.
"Security!"
"Had someone gone mad? Which one of them has gone mad?" a huge man with very curly hair, which reminded of a meatball, asked.
"Let go of me! She is the crazy one! See, she scratched me!" Dominique shouted, swinging her foot that her shoe fell off her foot, flying towards the elderly woman in the wheelchair.
"You! Don't you dare throw your shoes at me!" the elderly woman shouted, throwing her shoe so hard that it hit Dr Orwell in the face.
"So, which one of them has gone mad? Her?" the man with the meatball haircut asked again and walked over to Dominique. "OK, it's OK. You'll be happy soon," he said with tenderness in his voice as he quickly put a straitjacket on her. "It's okay. I'm your friend."
"I'm not crazy! What is this place? Let go of me!"
"Yeah, she's crazy. Get her out of here!" Wilhelmina exclaimed, hooking her shoe to one of the loops of her straitjacket.
"Wait, she's not crazy. She's the wife of one of the patients. What are you doing?"
Snatching Dominique out of the hands of the man, a woman with very short hair quickly took off that straitjacket.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm going to sue you all! No! I have to get my husband out of here. He's not going to be in a hospital where anyone can become insane! You are not treating my husband!"
"Your husband is not going anywhere. He needs to be treated!" Dr Orwell exclaimed, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"I'm going to go mad myself with you now. Get them out of here and don't let them in."
"I'll come back here tomorrow with the police! I'll make you answer for everything!"
As they were escorted out of the building with difficulty, Dr Orwell sighed, drank a glass of cool water, and looked at the two girls who were sitting on chairs with a calm expression on their faces.
"You are the daughters of the victim, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Go home and calm your mother down. Don't worry about your father. I'll do my best."
"Doctor, may I have your phone number?" Lily asked. "You are so handsome. How old are you? You have recently graduated from medical school, haven't you?"
"I'm thirty-seven years old. Too old for you."
"Dr Orwell, we should be friends. I think we'll be seeing each other and going under the same roof for a long time to come," Lily said, smiling her snow-white smile, which took too much effort and time from her every day. And that was after wearing braces for a long time, which fixed those ugly vampire fangs she'd had almost since she was a little girl.
"Go home girls. Your mother needs support."
"Support? She doesn't need anyone," Lucy muttered, throwing her leather jacket over her shoulders.
"Can I give you money for a taxi? Did your mother come by car?" Dr Orwell asked, trying to find his wallet in his pocket.
"Yes. My mother doesn't know how to drive."
"I think that should be enough."
"You are so generous, Dr Orwell."
"I have work to do."
After making sure they were gone, Dr Orwell wanted to sit in a chair and rest, but someone had gone into cardiac arrest, and he walked lazily towards another ward.
"It was a strange day today. Almost all the wives were acting like they were crazy," said a very petite-looking nurse who climbed up onto the bed where the young man with cardiac arrest was lying and started pounding his chest with her fist. "Don't worry. I can manage on my own. I'm going to start his heart now."
"How are these two unfortunate people doing?"
"When they wake up, they won't remember a thing."
"And you'll have a million more times to explain it to their wives."
"After such a thing, I shall never marry," said the young doctor, who was evidently trying to attract the attention of the handsome Doctor Orwell. "Doctor let's go to have a dinner. We have time, after all. You see, Magdalena has already started his heart. How do you do it? You're so small, yet so powerful."
Bringing the boy back into this life, the nurse named Magdalena looked proudly at everyone.
"Don't judge a book by its cover."
"Teach me how to do it."
"It's not something you learn. It's a talent you have to be born with."
"From your punch, he's going to have chest pains. If he complains, give him something for the pain."
"Will do. Now let's have dinner."
"What kind of dinner are we talking about? We've got work to do. Look at all these patients."
"Doctor, let's go," the young doctor said, grabbing Dr Orwell by the arm, thus pulling him towards a small room where there was one very small chair with three legs, and instead of a fourth leg there was a box. And a lot of bags where everyone usually kept food and spare socks.
While the young doctor with incredibly golden hair tried to fit the time of the romantic dinner into five minutes, in one of the many rooms with the intimidating glass doors, Everett and Jasper continued to lie unconscious, but promising a speedy and dramatic recovery.
Although both cars were damaged and broken and crumpled, the drivers themselves were unharmed and nothing was life-threatening. They had not broken anything, they were not bleeding internally, but all that threatened them was their memory, where there was nothing now. No information whatsoever.
Unable to wake up, they continued to lie there, occasionally moving their fingers, their eyeballs, but still, they needed more time to finally open their eyes.
And by more time, they meant just one more day. Another day when their wives, their friends just broke into the room with hugs and even threats.
The next day was as sunny as the one when the accident happened. So blindingly sunny that Wilhelmina wore her new sunglasses and again in the shape of butterfly wings. And even her outerwear looked like butterfly wings, the same thin material and the same bright colour that reminded Dr Orwell, for some reason, of poison.
Sitting on the bed beside Everett, who looked like a normal sleeping man, she proceeded to tell him everything that had happened to her during this period when he was lying unconscious. She told him that all the neighbours had come to support her because of Everett's tragic death. And of course, she began to rebuke him for being so irresponsible, for leaving her at such an important moment, although no one knew why this moment in her life had suddenly become important. Also, she told him how she had quarrelled with all the neighbours because they all thought Everett was already dead. And all this she said without stopping, sometimes glancing angrily at Dr Orwell, who entered the room many times, fearing that such a fiery woman might damage or even break something.
"Why do you come in almost every five minutes?" she finally asked when Dr Orwell, with his indefinitely happy smile, opened the door again.
"I work here, remember?"
"You just think I'm crazy."
"You said it yourself."
"You've been here long enough. Your husband needs peace and silence so he can come to his senses."
"Do I have to leave now? I can't even be with my husband?"