Miss Gwen tapped her foot, scowling. The idiotic thing was that she had no other idea. She was a mechanic, not a biologist. She could make from scratch any number of machines to keep him alive, but it was clear from all the tubes and screens and beeping that that idea was already done.
At which point, a doctor entered.
“Oh, thank God, a normal person,” Romeesha said. “Doc, please tell me that you can wake this boy up.” She didn’t see Manny’s suddenly very serious expression. He already knew the answer.
The woman raised an eyebrow. “This is probably going to be a stupid question, but are any of you next of kin?”
The Mexican American and African Americans stared at her, and then to the Japanese American patient.
“We’re friends,” Manny said, standing. “All of Kit’s family is back in Japan. He was born and raised here, so he stayed. When he…came here, I mean, when it looked bad, like he wasn’t going to come around, I called his parents. But it’s a 9-hour flight from Tokyo to San Francisco.”
“And you are?”
Intros again. “Doctor Emmanuel Veracruz, psychologist.”
“Oh. I see. And they are?” The doctor, a tall, trim blond woman, gave every sign that she was all business and numbers. And had the bedside manner to match.
“The family he has on this side of the Pacific,” Guinevere said, suddenly not liking the woman at all.
“So can the attitude, Miss Thing,” Romeesha added.
“Are you Mr. Kitabora’s psychologist?” It was as if the two women had just blipped out of existence, for all the attention the doctor paid them.
Manny laughed. “Doesn’t need one. In my opinion, the man’s as stable as houses.”
“Too bad,” came the reply. “It would at least give us a place to start. I’m Dr. Aikins.”
“Should we be worried that you are already using the term ‘next of kin?’” Manny asked.
The doctor sighed. “We’re stumped,” she said bluntly. “We’ve tested for everything, even a few oddballs like Klein-Levin and encephalitis lethargica. Physically, he’s fine. I’ve seen his CAT scans and the only thing out of the ordinary is the near complete lack of chemical activity in the brain. My first inclination is to say he had a stroke, but there is no bleeding or damage to his brain. Biologically, his brain is functioning normally, but it’s like all it’s mental processes have stopped. What was he doing before he got like this?”
What indeed? Manny thought.
“He had a fight,” Romeesha offered. “With an asshole.”
That perked some interest. “He was hit?”
“No,” Manny said, giving ROM a good mental bonk to the brain. “First, it was…an argument. Then he collapsed.”
“You saw it?”
“I haven’t seen anything, Doctor,” Manny replied, showing her his blind eyes.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Dr. Aikins hastily said. “Did either of you?”
“Yes,” Romeesha volunteered.
Guinevere rolled her eyes. Go on. Explain your way out of this one, baby.
“What happened?”
“Just like Manny said.”
The woman was clear not satisfied with that dead end. “This is the first time I have ever heard of someone going into a coma because his feelings got hurt.”
“Doctor, we’ve told you all we know. We were hoping you could tell us something,” Guinevere said gently.
“I’ll tell you that I have a man in a coma for no reason,” Dr. Aikins snapped, more at the situation than any of them. “And I have every indication he’s going to slip into a persistent vegetative state for the rest of his life.”
“A what?” Romeesha asked.
“He’ll spend the rest of his life as a vegetable,” Manny translated.
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