SHOT IN THE DARK Chapter 4 revised

4

         Sarah became aware of a hum of machines as she opened her eyes to complete darkness.  Memories of the night before flooded her mind with shouts from the trees, and someone named Georgie.  Her head pounded as she lifted a hand to her head and found both bandaged painful with movement.  She felt stiff and sore and found her head wrapped in bandages as well as her arm and chest.  She looked to the end of the bed and found her leg elevated.  She turned her head this way and that, as her eyes took in the room around her and realized she was in a hospital, but which one, and how long had she been there.  Except for the lights on the machines with the wavy lines and numbers, it was dark, and no light permeated through the closed drapes.

          A light came on, and Sarah blinked several times at the sudden brightness as she turned her head to see a nurse come toward her a smile on her face as she took hold of her wrist and watched the monitors.  “So you’ve decided to rejoin the living.  How do you feel?”

         “Where am I?”

         “You’re at Saint Joseph’s.  I’m Nurse Waters.”  She looked at the monitor.  “Now that you’re awake we’re going to need to do a history.  You came in here without any identification.  Do you have any relatives we can contact?”

         “My purse?”

         “You didn’t have one.”

         Sarah panicked.  “My house keys, wallet, checkbook, everything were in my purse.”

         “You can call the bank tomorrow and get your account transferred.”

         “But what about tonight?  They could be writing checks already.  How long have I been here?  They could easily have wiped out my account.  My rent, I won’t be able to pay it.”

         “You were brought in Tuesday night.”

         “And this is Wednesday morning?”

         “No.  Early Thursday.”

         “Thursday?  Tell me you’re wrong!  It can’t be Thursday.”  Sobs started in her throat as she thought about her job.  She had missed a whole day of work.

         Nurse Waters let go of her wrist and took the chart from the end of her bed.  “It’s early Thursday morning.”

         “I missed a day of work.  I’ll be fired!”  Tears started to stream down her face.  “I need that job.”  She half rose from her pillow, only to fall back, as pain shot through her shoulder and chest at the effort.

         Nurse Waters saw the numbers jump on the monitor.  “Relax, everything will be all right.  It’s an easy matter to take care of.  We’ll have someone call your work in the morning.”

         “It’s too late for that.”  She recalled Harvey’s last words as they parted at the edge of the parking lot.  ‘I’ll be glad to see you tomorrow.’  She had been so sure she would come to no harm as she started across the park towards home.

         The door opened and Dr. Quimby headed for her bedside concern written on his face.  “What’s the problem?”

         “The problem?  The problem is I don’t have a job anymore.  I’ve been here through a whole day.  I didn’t call in.  I need that job!”  Tears continued to course down her cheeks as she looked from one person to the other.  “And they have my purse!  They will wipe out my whole checking account and savings.  I have nothing!”

         “My name is Dr. Quimby.  I want you to take it easy.  We’ll have someone call your work and explain the situation.  You don’t have anything to worry about.”  He turned to the nurse.  “What do you have so far?”

         Nurse Waters handed him the chart.  “Nothing yet.”

         He looked up at the monitor and back at her, a concerned look on his face.  “I need you to calm down.  You’re in ICU because we almost lost you on the operating table.  You had a bullet very close to the main artery to your heart, besides the one to your shoulder, arm, and leg.”

         She looked up at him, and over at Nurse Waters.  “You don’t understand.  They fire you if you don’t call in.  I missed a whole day of work!”

         Dr. Quimby looked at her and the monitor at the same time.  “You need to calm down.  Tell me about your work.”

         “I’m an architect.  I like my job.”  She closed her eyes.

         He watched her, along with the monitors.  “What do you do?”

         She opened her eyes and looked between him and the nurse.  “I draw plans for homes, and sometimes I work on commercial buildings, but not as often.”

         “Where do you work?  We’ll call them right now,” Dr. Quimby said.

         “It’s been too long.”  She closed her eyes and fell into a black void.

         Sounds penetrated the black fog, as her eyes fluttered open, and she looked around her.  Both Dr. Quimby and Nurse Waters were still at her bedside.

         Dr. Quimby looked down at her a smile on his face.  “Thank God.  We nearly lost you again.”

         “I’m sorry.”  Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

         “How about telling us your name?  I’m sure you would like to be known as someone besides Jane Doe.”

         Nurse Waters took the chart from Dr. Quimby.

         “My name is Sarah.”  Her voice was quiet, subdued.

         “With or without the h at the end?”  Nurse Waters waited her pen poised over the chart.

         “With.”

         “Last name, Sarah?” Dr. Quimby said.

         “Whitaker.”

         Nurse Waters looked up after she wrote in the chart.  “How is it spelled?”

         “W-h-i-t-a-k-e-r.”

         “Thank you.  Middle initial?”  Nurse Waters gave her a smile of encouragement.

         “L.  Leanne.  L-e-a-n-n-e.  Sarah Leanne Whitaker.”

         Dr. Quimby watched the monitors a satisfied look on his face.  “What is your address?”

         “Nine twenty nine Morgan.”

         Dr. Quimby frowned at the mention of her address.  “Phone number?”

         “555-875-5521”

         Dr. Quimby looked over the chart as Nurse Waters took down the information.  “Are there any family members you want we need to contact?”

         A new wave of panic took hold of her.  “No, please.  I want to be left alone.”

         Dr. Quimby looked up at the patterns on the monitor.  “Take it easy.  We won’t contact any family members.”

         Nurse Waters also noticed the change in the monitors as she looked from them to Sarah.  “Why don’t you want anybody contacted?”

         “What’s the point?”

         Dr. Quimby showed mild surprise and concern by her statement.  “You don’t think your parents would want to know you’re all right?”

         “They might, but I don’t want complicated situations at the moment.”

         Dr. Quimby motioned for Nurse Waters to disregard any family information.  “All right, we’ll leave that for now.  What about church?”

         “My pastor should probably be contacted.”

         “And his name?”  Nurse Waters made notes in her chart as Sarah gave her the information.

         “Pastor Donald Brooks.”

         “Pastor of Living Word church.”  Nurse Waters nodded her head as she continued writing the information.

         “You know him?”

         “I’m familiar with the names of all the ministers in town, and the names of their churches.”

         “I see.”

         “Do you have a doctor of your own?” Nurse Waters said.

         “No.  I’ve never been sick.”

         Dr. Quimby interrupted the questioning.  “Not even childhood diseases?”

         “Well those, but nothing since grade school.”

         “What about insurance?” Nurse Waters said.

         “Yes.  But I’ve never had any need for it, so I don’t know the name of it.”

         “How old are you?” Dr. Quimby said.

         “Twenty-eight.”

         “Married?” Dr. Quimby said.

         “No.”

         “You were talking about your job.  Where do you work?”

         “Willard Architectural.”

         Dr. Quimby looked at some notes the nurse put on her chart, before he turned to her again.

         Sarah began to worry again.  “What time is it?”

         “It’s the middle of the night.”

         “What about my job?”

         “Give me the phone number and I’ll give them a call right away, and see what I can do.”

         “I need that job.”

         “I understand.  I can call them.  Don’t worry.”

         “They fire you if you don’t call in or have a valid excuse.  I’ve seen many people come and go in the past three years.”

         “I’ll explain.”

         “They won’t believe you.  It’s been too long.”

         “Give me the number.  I’ll tell them what happened.”

         “555-875-6500.”  Sarah closed her eyes, her head pounded, and her chest was tight and painful.  Everything hurt.

         “I’ll be right back.  I’m going to give your work a call.  They do have a twenty-four hour call-in line, don’t they?”

         “Yes.”  She opened her eyes and watched him leave to make the call, then closed them again.  “Can I get something to eat?”

         “What would you like?” Nurse Waters said.

         “A sandwich, some fruit, milk.”

         “Do you have any food allergies?”

         She opened her eyes and focused her attention on Nurse Waters again.  “No.”

         “I’ll be right back with something to eat.”

         Sarah had just dozed off when the door opened and Nurse Waters entered again with a tray of food.  She raised her bed, and Sarah began to eat the turkey sandwich.  There was also a banana, and a carton of milk on her tray.  Those were soon gone.

         She looked up when Dr. Quimby returned several moments later.  “What did they say?”

         “The woman I spoke with was a hard sell, but you still have your job.”

         “Thank God.  I was really afraid.”

         He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her.  “I can see that, and I can understand why you were worried.  I had to convince the woman you were in the hospital, and had come in as a Jane Doe.  I’m certain they will contact you.”

         “I’ve heard from people at work how they don’t believe anybody.  They do a complete check into the situation, but they never call the employee personally.  A woman had a baby earlier than expected, and didn’t even get a congratulatory card from the company.  I hate where I work, but I need the job.”

         “Why don’t you look for a different job, if it’s so difficult to work for?”

         “Because I don’t have a car, and they are closest to home.”

         “So that is why you were in the park on Tuesday night?”

         “I always take the shortcut through the park.  I’ve just never encountered any trouble before.”

         “I hope you are more careful from now on.  We came close to losing you several times.”

         “Died?”

         “It was close.  Get some sleep, and don’t worry you still have your job.”

         “Thank you for that.”

         “You’re welcome.”

         She watched him leave and closed her eyes to open them to early morning sun as it shone through the window.  It was the first time she had a good look at the room.  What she saw reminded her of a science fiction movie, with all the monitors and wires that ran to various parts of her body.  She almost expected to see the ‘mad doctor’ come through the door, and smiled to herself at her imagination.  An IV flowed into her arm.  She normally freaked with needles, and was glad she hadn’t been aware of it at the time.  Other than childhood illnesses, the only time she had gone to the doctor had been for shots, and she hated it.

         A short time later, a nurse brought in her breakfast tray.  “I see you’re awake.  I’ll let Dr. Quimby know.”

         “Dr. Quimby is still here?”

         “He’s back.  He wanted to see how you spent the night after he left you.”  She took the lids off the dishes and left.

         Sarah looked at everything and wondered if she could eat.  She normally ate a large breakfast, but her midnight snack left her with little appetite.

         Dr. Quimby entered her room.  “The nurse said you were awake.”

         “Yes.  Just woke up.”

         “So, how are you?”

         “I hurt all over.”

         He looked through her chart.  “You will for awhile.”  He checked the bandages.  “Everything looks good.  Are you up to answering some questions?  We still need a history on you.”

         “I thought I gave that to you yesterday when I answered all those questions about my work.”

         “That was only about your work, not about you.”

         “So what do you want to know?”

         “What about allergies to medication?”

         “I don’t know.  I’ve never even had a headache until now.”

         Dr. Quimby looked concerned by the information.  “On a scale of one to ten how would you rate your headache?”

         “Yesterday, off the scale, it’s gone at the moment.”

         “You didn’t say anything yesterday.”

         “You didn’t ask.”

         “Touché, okay how about your family history, any diabetes?”

         He wrote down the answers to the basic history and looked up when he asked about her family.

         “I have three brothers and two sisters.”

         “Eight of you all together, that’s a large family.”

         “We’re your typical nobody gets along with anybody else type family.”

         “Is that the reason you don’t want us to contact your family?”

         “It’s more complicated.”

         “Okay, I think we’ve got enough information for now.”

         “So, how soon do I get to go home?”

         “You have to get out of ICU first.”

         “Okay, so how long will I be in here?”

         “That’s up to you.  You’re a long way from being out of the woods, you flat-lined yesterday when you panicked about your job.  You have to remain calm, not get excited about anything.”

         “I’ll do my best.”

         “That’s all I ask.  Are you up to a visitor?  There is someone outside who wants to see you.”

         She looked up at him a little frightened about who would come to see her.  “Who is it, a police officer?”

         “No.  He’s a journalist.  He writes about the gangs of the city and surrounding suburbs.  He has been concerned he wouldn’t be able to find out what happened in the park Tuesday night.”

         “He must not have anything better to do if he’s been hanging around here for so long.”

         “Do you mind talking to him?”

         “It’ll be fine, though I don’t know if I want to talk about it.”

         “His name is Josiah Christopherson.”

         “All right.”  She closed her eyes for a moment, and opened them when she heard him come into the room.  Her eyes focused on a trim man, somewhere in his mid twenties to mid thirties.  Brown shaggy hair that looked like he needed a haircut as it flopped over to the left side of his face, but it was his face she had trouble with; heart stopping trouble.  To call him gorgeous was decidedly wrong for a male, to call him a hunk, was an understatement.  He had dark bushy eyebrows that centered on a perfectly straight nose, which flared just the way it should.  His eyes were hazel with light flecks of brown in green eyes, and they told her that her eyes looked like cat’s eyes, his definitely did.  His lips, she looked at his hands but couldn’t tell whether he was already spoken for, no doubt he was, the beautiful creatures always were, and who would want someone as dowdy looking as she was, but he did look good in blue jeans and open neck shirt, where a mat of dark hair showed through. 

         Josiah sat in a chair he pulled up to her beside.  “Dr. Quimby told you I was here.  I’ve been waiting to talk to you since yesterday.  You don’t mind if I ask you some questions do you?”

         “You get right to the point don’t you?”

         “Sorry.  Habit.  I have been concerned.  They told me at the nurse’s station you were at least alive.  So how are you?”

         “I hurt, and that is new for me if you want to add that to your article.  Dr. Quimby did say you were a journalist.”

         “That’s right.  I write about the gangs.  I understand they took three bullets from you.”

         “Isn’t that a violation of my patient rights?”

         “I was in the park when they brought you in.  I saw the number of bullet wounds, and worried you wouldn’t make it into let alone out of surgery.”

         “Well, there you are.  You know more than I do.”

         “What I don’t know is anything about you, and why you were in the park on Tuesday night.  Are you up to any questions?”

         “Not really, but I told Dr. Quimby I would talk to you.”

         “Let’s start with your name.  What do I call you?”

         “My name is Sarah Whitaker.”

         “What were you doing in the park at that time of night Sarah Whitaker?”

         “I was on my way home from work.  I always take that way.  I live near there.”

         “That’s a pretty dangerous part of town.  Didn’t anybody ever tell you not to go near there at night?”

         “Are you going to sit there and criticize my actions?  If so you can just leave.  I don’t need that right now.”

         “Sorry.  I’m so used to dealing with gang members, I forget my manners sometimes.”

         “Sometimes?  You’ve been critical since you arrived.”

         “Okay, I’m sorry.  Let’s start over.  My name is Josiah Christopherson, and you are Sarah Whitaker who lives near the park.  I take it you work nearby.”

         “Yes, but I’ve never been hurt before.  I got off work a little late.”

         “I take it you don’t have a car.”

         “No.”

         “So you get around by bus?”

         “Yes and no.  I mean I could take the bus, but I prefer to walk.”

         “Where do you work?”

         “Willard Architecture.”

         “I know it.  How do you like it?”

         “I need it.”

         “But you don’t like it.”

         “I didn’t say that.”

         “Yes you did.  You said you needed it, not that you liked it.”

         “And you assumed.”

         “So do you like it?”

         “No, but I can’t find another.  I don’t have the transportation.”

         “You said you could take the bus.”

         “I could, but prefer not to.  Do you know how long it takes to get anywhere on the bus?  Too long.”

         “What don’t you like about your job?”

         “Where do I start?”

         “Wherever you like.”

         “I thought you were here because you write for a gang magazine.”

         “I do, but I’m also concerned about you.”

         “Why?”

         “Why not?  You are a mystery to me Sarah Whitaker.”

         “Why do you always do that?”

         “Do what?”

         “Call me by my full name.”

         “What would you like me to call you?”

         “How long have you worked for the magazine?”

         “A couple years.  Why don’t you like your job?”

         “Where do I start?  They have high turnover.  If you’re late, miss without calling in, you can kiss your job goodbye.”

         “I understand Doc Quimby called your work last night.”

         “How would you know that?”

         “I saw him at the desk talking to Willard?”

         “You overheard the conversation?”

         “No.  I never eavesdrop.  I just heard the name, and went to get a cup of coffee.”

         “I need the job.  He said it was a hard sell, but I have my job still.  I’m grateful, but I wish I could do more.”

         “Like what?”

         “Design custom homes and work places.”

         “So, you’re not a secretary or similar.”

         “Do you always characterize a person’s job by how they look or what gender they are?”

         “I’m sorry.  I’m not doing so well am I?  How long have you been an architect?”

         “I got my license three years ago.”

         “And you live close enough that the park is a nice shortcut.  Doesn’t the bus go near your home?”

         “Probably, I never checked.  I live close enough to walk, and I prefer it.  Nothing’s happened before now.”

         “Do you live alone?”

         “I have my dog.  She’s alone in the house.  She’ll wonder if I’m coming back.”

         “If you would trust me, I could run over and take care of her.”

         “Why would I trust you?  I don’t know you.”

         “I’m just saying if your dog has been alone for that long he’s going to need taking care of.”

         “She.”

         “Sorry.  Habit.  I have a male.”

         “What kind of dog do you have?”

         “A border collie named Dickens.”

         “Dickens because he is one?”

         “Dickens, because I like the author Charles Dickens, and yes, he’s also a little dickens at times.”

         She was quiet as she thought about why she should trust a total stranger.  She looked up at him.  “I don’t know you, and Sophie would never let you in the house.  She has strict instructions.”

         “What kind of instructions?”

         “When I leave the house I tell her to take care of the house and never let anyone in for any reason.”

         “Your dog will wonder what happened to you, especially since you’ve been gone for so long.  She needs to be cared for as well.  Left alone she could start doing things she wouldn’t normally do.”

         “Like what?”

         “She could mess in the house, probably has.  She could start to make a mess of your belongings.  Tear up pillows, papers, mess on clothes and furniture, as well as the floor.”

         “Sophie is well trained.  She wouldn’t do something like that.”

         “Any animal left alone for a prolonged period of time will start showing the signs of neglect.”

         “She’s not used to anyone else.”

         “I’ll be careful.  This is the third day since the gang war.”

         “Why would you be interested in me?”

         “I have a dog of my own.  I know how important it is that she’s taken care of.  What kind of dog is she?”

         “So you’re not really interested in me as a person, just want to know why I was where I shouldn’t have been at that particular time of night, on that particular day.”

         “Well when you put it like that.”

         “And you are more interested in my dog than me.  I’m the one lying here in a hospital bed.  The one who almost died.”

         “I’m aware of that, and I was very worried you wouldn’t make it.”

         “Only because you want to know for your magazine article.”

         “It’s more than that.”

         “Yes, I forgot, it’s about my dog too.”

         “Why do you have such a low opinion of yourself, that you automatically think people are sinister and don’t care about you?”

         She turned her head and looked out the window.  Her thoughts rummaged back to when she lived at home.  She could never do anything right.  She came under heavy criticism almost every day.  They accused her of being hypersensitive because she was always in tears, unlike her other brothers and sisters, even her mother.  It seemed like her mother had an alligator hide, thick, nothing affected her.

         A tear traced itself down her cheek, which she brushed away.  She looked back at him.  “You wouldn’t understand.”

         “Oh, I don’t know.  I’ve been around the block a time or two.  Not much takes me by surprise.”

         She brushed the tears away that flowed more freely.  “You wanted to know why I was in the park on Tuesday night.  I told you.”

         “It’s a shortcut home from work.”

         “It’s more than that though.”

         “So why do you go through the park?”

         “I told Harvey I would be careful and would be at work Wednesday morning.  I can just hear his ‘I told you so.’”

         “Who’s Harvey?”

         “Night security.  He told me Tuesday night that I shouldn’t go through the park, said it was dangerous, and that another woman had been raped and murdered just the night before.  He told me I should take the long way around, even if it would take longer to get home.”

         “You didn’t listen to him.”

         “I thought about it, but no, I didn’t.  I like the shortcut through the park.  I buy corn on the way to work, and at night, I sit on the bench and watch the ducks run after it or swim on the pond.  It’s a quiet time.  I sit there for a little while before I continue home, and then I get Sophie and go for a walk through the park.  She likes it too.”

         “And before Tuesday you never had any trouble.”

         “I never thought I would get hurt.  I was warned often enough, not just by Harvey, but by people at church too, but I never listened.”

         “And now?”

         “Now I know better.”

         “Almost getting killed can do that to a person.  So what kind of dog is Sophie?”

         “She’s a border collie mix.”

         “Okay.  She’ll be friendly, yet very territorial.”

         “Yes.  She doesn’t take kindly to people she doesn’t know coming into her domain.  Unless I’m with her, and then she’s more than friendly.”

         “Yes.  That’s her basic nature.  To take care of her family, and anybody else entrusted to her.  I don’t know if you ever had the opportunity to notice, but if you were to have a group of kids at your home, she would protect each of them as if they were hers.  No one would be able to lift a hand against them.”

         “I’ve noticed that when we’re at the park playing with the children.”

         “So will she be all right in the house?”

         “Yes.  I have a pet door for her, with an enclosed yard.  She’ll be all right in that regard.  I am worried about her though.”

         He pulled a notebook from his breast pocket and prepared to write down what happened.  “Before I go over there I’d like to find out from you what you know about Tuesday night.”

         “Like I said I was on my way home.  I had worked late and was in a hurry.  I just didn’t figure I’d be caught in the middle of a gang fight.”

         “Do you remember anything about the fight before you were hurt?”

         “There were some boys calling back and forth between each other and the next thing I knew I was here.”

         “Did you hear any names?”

         Sarah thought about it for a while.  “Yes.  There was one name, Georgie.”

         “That would be Georgie Baskum.  I’ve heard of him.  The police have been trying to place him at the scene of a gang fight for a long time, anyone else?”

         “No.  There was a lot of shouting.  Wait, there was a mention of Snow and Ice and Devil Lords and that someone killed their little sister, but other than that, nothing.”

         “If I were to bring in some pictures do you think you would be able to recognize any of them?”

         “I don’t know.  It was awfully dark.”

         “If you remember anything, no matter how insignificant, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

         “Do you work with the police?”

         “Yes and no.  I’m a journalist first, and I help the police as much as I can.  So, how about it, can I go over to your house and make sure everything is all right?”

         “Can I trust you?”

         “Doc Quimby knows me, ask him.”

         She thought about it as she watched him put the notepad back in his breast pocket along with the pen.  She tried not to look up at that face.  She saw his left hand for the first time, no ring.  He was unattached, but again she wondered who would want her.

         “If it’s a problem I can even have a police officer vouch for me.”

         “If Dr. Quimby says it’s okay.”

         “I’ll be right back.”

         She watched him leave the room, and return moments later with Dr. Quimby.

         “Josiah said you wanted to talk to me.”

         “What do you know about him?  Can I trust him to go over and take care of my dog?”

         “I’ve known Josiah for quite some years, and seeing as he has a dog of his own, I think you’re pretty safe.”

         She was still unsure.

         “You don’t know how long you’re going to be in here, and if you have a dog at home, you will need someone to take care of him.”

         “Her.  Sophie.  She’s not used to people going around the house without me around.”

         “Out of curiosity, how long have you lived alone?”

         “Since I graduated from college, at least here, three years, I’ve been on my own since I graduated from high school and went to college.”

         “I’ve known Josiah since he was about twelve years old.  He’s a good guy, you have nothing to worry about,” Dr. Quimby said.

         “Since you were twelve?  Is he your doctor?”

         “You could say that.  We met in the emergency room,” Josiah said.

         “And how long ago was that?”

         “About twenty years ago, give or take,” Dr. Quimby said.

         “So what do you say?  Sophie needs taking care of,” Josiah said.

         She looked between them, hesitant about letting anyone in her home, but then, it could have been broken into by then.  “Okay.”

          “Good.  I’ll go over right away and make sure everything is all right and be right back.”

         “She’s a good watchdog she may not let you in.”

         “We’ll see.  Where do you keep the spare key?”

         “If you don’t need me, I’ll get back to my other patients,” Dr. Quimby said.

         “Thanks,” Josiah said.

         “Anytime.”

         “I just hope you’re on the level.  It’s under the large flower pot near the door.”

         “Does Sophie need to be fed?”

         “I have a food and water system for her.  I just fill it once a week.”

         “Anything else?”

         “I wish I had my Bible.  It was lost along with my purse.  I carry it everywhere I go.”

         “There’s one in the drawer here.”  He took it out and handed it to her.  “Do you have any goldfish that need to be fed?”

         “I have fish, but I fed them before work the other day.”

         “Plants need to be watered?”

         “Yes.  I do have plants.  They’ll be dry by now.”

         “Newspaper need to be brought in?”

         “No, I don’t take the paper.  But my mail will need to be brought in.”

         “That was my next question.  I’ll come back and let you know how everything is.”

         “I really appreciate it.  Thanks.”  She opened the Bible to where she had previously left off in her study, though her thoughts were on him.  He was handsome, with no ring on his left hand.  I won’t think about it.  She shook her head.  I have no time for men, dates, or even a social life.  My work keeps me more than busy.  There’s always the weekend.  No.  I won’t get involved with anyone.  It’s useless.  What if?  What if indeed, he probably has a girlfriend.  The thoughts seemed to go round and round.  You don’t know that.  Enough, I won’t think about it.  But you are.  Be quiet!