by Adam Knight
I wanted to know why I needed a new MasterCard every three months. Damned things always crap out on me, leaving me hanging like a nitwit trying to buy groceries and staring at the clerk shamefacedly as she hands back my inoperable card.
It wasn’t too bad overall. I had to pay a visit to the bank, sign a few forms for the Blue Cross folks and get a hold put on my mortgage payments until the insurance kicked in. That’d make everyone happy and keep the house from being taken away. A few weeks of no mortgage payments actually gave me a chance to get caught up on other bills.
Again. I shoulda got shot months ago.
My stomach rumbled. I stared down at it in surprise as hunger once again added it’s two cents to the complaining areas of my body. I glanced up at the wall clock. Cathy had only dropped me off an hour before and I’d had a full meal less than an hour before that.
More rumbling. It pulsed in accord with my head and body aches.
“Okay, okay “ I muttered under my breath and headed into the kitchen.
Salami. Bread. Mustard. Cheese slice.
Heaven.
I nommed my way back into the kitchen when I saw a familiar sight rumble into the driveway through the big front street windows.
My beat up Ford Windstar chugged its way to a stop amidst its familiar billow of dark exhaust fumes. All rusty, banged up and with cheap mismatched tires. Through the cracked windshield I could see Mark fiddling with the gear shift, clearly unfamiliar with my baby’s particular needs in the transmission department.
Jamming another big bite into my mouth as I minced through the kitchen, I slipped on my sneakers and quietly went outside.
My van shuddered again and went silent as Mark hopped out, a stunned look on his face.
“You crazy motherfucker,” he said stepping forward. We smacked hands and did one of those single armed, shoulder to shoulder bro hugs that show male friendship without being weird. Belt buckles clearly twelve inches apart. He clapped my back hard a few times making me wince.
“Easy, easy!” I choked out with a laugh. “I just got out of the hospital, dammit.”
He stepped back a wild grin on his face, hands up on my shoulders. “What the fuck, man? What are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
“Dude, a week ago I saw you lying unconscious in the hospital with a million tubes going in and out of you.” He looked me up and down, shaking his head with a wry smile. “For real, man. This is unbelievable.”
“Maybe I should buy a lotto ticket?”
“Hell no, must’ve used up all of your luck by now. I’ll buy the lotto ticket.”
“Bastard.”
We laughed together, my aches and pains suddenly not feeling as bad.
“My girl been treating you good?” I asked motioning towards the van.
Mark glanced at me quickly, an odd look in his eyes before he answered. “I don’t know how you drive this thing, man. Seriously, it is the clunkiest and most temperamental beast I have ever gotten behind the wheel of.”
My hand went over my heart in mock horror.
“For shame you should speak of my baby like that.”
“Your van’s a piece of shit, Joe. Just admit it.”
“I admit nothing.” Then I blinked in thought. “How’d you end up with the van, anyways?”
Mark shrugged, looking over at my baby in her rusty glory. The van made her usual clicking and rattling noises while cooling down. Made me smile a little to hear it.
“I went to grab your coat after we’d cleared everyone out. Your keys were inside. Figured you didn’t need to get towed on top of everything else.”
“Huh. Thanks.”
“You should thank Tamara.”
“Huh?”
“Tamara?” Mark prodded, still looking at my van. “You know. Your friend? Hot little thing training to be a massage therapist? Red librarian glasses?”
I bumped his shoulder. “Yes. Thank you, dumbass. But why should I thank her?”
He shrugged slightly. “I had no idea what you drove. When I asked around she’s the only one who knew. Helped me find it too.”
“Huh.” Tamara. Shit. I hadn’t spoken to her. “You’re right, I do need to thank her.”
Mark nodded. “Good. You should give her a shout soon. She’s been worried. Especially since we heard you skipped out of the hospital.”
“Between the two of you and my mother this guilt trip is …” I paused, my brain tying thoughts together. “Wait. Are you banging, Tamara?”
“What? No!” Mark blustered, turning back to face me. His expression more than a bit shamefaced.
“You sure? Cause you seem awful familiar talking about her.”
Mark held up both hands in front of him, same as I did to my mother not half an hour earlier. “I swear man, no banging.”
I gave him the eye for a moment, nowhere near as good as the Mom-stare. But still effective.
“For real,” Mark crossed his heart dramatically. “No banging.”
“Well. Okay then.”
“We just made out is all.”
“What?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“I get shot and nearly die in front of the whole city and you go make out with Tamara in my own van?”
“No man. Not in your van.”
“Not in my van?”
“No way. In her apartment.”
I stared at him.
Mark shrugged his shoulders.
I ran my fingers down over my face, shaking my head.
I could hear Mark shuffling his feet. “I didn’t mean to make this weird, man.”
“No, it’s all good.” I sighed. “ I can totally see how this could happen. Stressful situation. You give her a lift home. Your tongue falls into her mouth. Total accident.”
“Look,” Mark said, a bit of anger starting in his voice. “Tamara was really upset. And shit man, so was I. She helped me find your ride and I drove her home. I went in to use her washroom to clean some of the blood off my hands.” I winced at that, guilt beginning to supercede my aggravation. “We had a drink. She started crying, still worried about you. Next thing I know ….”
I wanted to be angry out of some Neanderthal impulse. Check that, I was angry because of some possessive Neanderthal impulse. Which of course made me angry with myself. I am many things, but a Neanderthal shouldn’t be one of them.
Mark cooled down himself, lowering his palms. “Look,” he said. “It happened, and we stopped it. I didn’t want things to go too far. She’s your friend and I didn’t know if there was anything going on there.”
Which of course was the ten thousand dollar question.
“Is there something going on there? Tamara didn’t seem to think so. But still …”
God my head hurt.
“No man, there’s nothing going on.” I said clearly, though my guts wanted to kick me in the balls as I did. My guts apparently knew something the rest of me didn’t. “Tamara’s cool. I’m just … I was just surprised is all.”
Mark looked relieved, and maybe a little afraid that the recently incapacitated gunshot victim almost kicked his ass. “If you’re cool, man then I’m cool.”
“I’m cool.”
“Cool.”
“What is this, a Travolta flick?”
“Like Pulp Fiction?”
“I was thinking more Get Shorty.”
“So long as it wasn’t Grease.”
“Fuck you, Grease is a classic.”
“Are you gonna give me a ride home or what?”
“Sure, I gotta take my baby to the carwash anyways to get your stank outta her.”
Chapter 12
I gave it a full two days before I went back to the gym.
Truth to tell I had a ton of things to do before I could even consider whether I was healthy enough to get my ass into the weight room, though it was never far from my mind. Hell, for the better part of seven years I’d never really had a bunch of days off in a row. Sure some “v
acation days” required by government regulations with Canada-Pharm where I didn’t go into the office. But given Mom’s condition it’s not like we ever took a trip or really relaxed.
Plus, I was usually tossing drunks out of bars on weekends. So why bother going anywhere only to be back on Friday?
But for once - aside from taking care of my Mom and some miscellaneous errands - I had a few days more or less to myself.
Which of course meant I had to fill them up with as many tasks as possible.
The Wednesday after I was “released” from the hospital I went into my general practitioner’s office for a post-op checkup. But really it was more of an order, left in the form of an intense message on my mother’s answering machine. Which of course meant Mom got it before I did, allowing her Mom-stare to guilt me into agreeing to subject myself to yet more poking and prodding.
Dr. Beasley had a decent sized practice with a small lab on site. Most of his patients were of the elderly persuasion which made it an oddity for anyone my age to even walk into his facility. Which meant when I did need to see him, I usually had to wait forever and a day for an appointment. Never mind the time I spent sitting in the office itself.
But on this day I was whisked right in, my ass not even gracing one of the waiting room chairs.
Doc’ was waiting for me in his office, the expression on his gray bearded face a thundercloud. Apparently I had offended him somehow in the local medical community by not staying in hospital for months and then checking myself out without approval. I just think he was pissed because he was asked to give me a whole battery of tests as a follow up, and made me promise to check in with him weekly until notified otherwise.
Irritating.
So I gave a few vials of blood. He swabbed my cheek. I peed in a bottle. Did some basic calisthenics. He checked on my scars and gave a surprised nod at how well they were healing before applying another set of bandages. My blood pressure got checked. The stethoscope was cold as always against my chest. He advised me not to do any strenuous activity or weight training until he gave the okay, get lots of rest and to lay off the fatty foods. Then he reluctantly signed a few forms for work and my insurance folks with the bank.
Two hours and a bunch of grief and aggravation later I was out the door.
And starving.
So I went to Wendy’s.
What? It was on my way to the bank.
Sort of.
My finance guy Kevin was exceedingly helpful as always. Showing me the correct forms to sign in order to process the mortgage deferral until my health insurance kicked in. When all was said and done, I would be making only slightly less every two weeks than I got regularly from Canada-Pharm after taxes. Not enough to retire on but enough to cover the essentials until the doc’ declared me able to return to work.
Cause’ sitting on my ass and taking pharmaceutical orders over the phone is so taxing on my body.
But I wasn’t going to turn down a chance to actually stay home and get paid so I smiled as best I could and thanked Kevin. He asked after Mom as always and we chatted some. He discussed options with me again to assist with the credit card debt, offering different loan options. And as always I was a stubborn cuss and refused, knowing that if I was granted a loan to pay off the card I’d just end up shit creek somehow and start borrowing from MasterCard again. Leaving me with a loan and credit card debt.
Pass.
I left the bank after about an hour and a half and then gave up on going to the library in favor of heading home to make dinner for Mom.
Plus I was starving again.
Made a huge batch of pasta with salad and garlic bread. I then proceeded to stuff myself senseless while Mom picked away at hers. Some groggy puttering around the house, tidying things up and organizing my next day filled my last waking hours. Then we watched some hockey playoffs with until she fell asleep on the couch. I tidied up some more before giving up and going downstairs, deciding on an early bedtime. You know, doctor’s orders and all that.
My stomach woke me up just after midnight.
Starving.
The Thursday after I was “released” from the hospital I got up early and scoured the depths of the basement deep freezer, looking for things I could thaw out and have pre-cooked for quick snacks. My appetite was getting worse but I felt a ton better just after a proper sleep in my own bed. Amazing how that works. Those hospital beds have nothing on my twenty year old twin mattress that my ankles fall off of.
I made a huge breakfast. Six whole eggs with frozen hash browns and some sausage that had been buried in the back of the freezer for ages. Whole pot of coffee. Some toast. A bowl of Rice Crispies for Mom, and then a bigger bowl for myself. When I was stuffed to the point where I couldn’t eat another bite I staggered back into the kitchen. Threw a beef flank in the slow cooker with a few potatoes and brussel sprouts for dinner that night. Tidied up the dishes and packed two salami sandwiches.
I went back to Dr. Beasley’s office, this time for Mom’s appointment. Waited the usual amount of time while Mom got checked out and had her ‘scripts refilled. Drove around a little bit, letting Mom enjoy her time out of the house. She never got as much as she needed. She asked me to stop in at the church which of course turned into me getting asked to move some tables and chairs around in the upper hall. They always needed help with that sort of thing, the average church goer being somewhat aged and fragile.
Of course being in the church meant memories, both good and bad. I tried to ignore them all as I moved furniture into some semblance of order. Pastor Lee came out of his office, chatting with Mom and “Thanking God” for my miraculous recovery. He shook my hand and gripped my shoulder in that priestly way, making me feel both welcome and uncomfortable at the same time.
Once Mom started coughing I bundled her up and drove home.
After getting her settled in and relaxed I grabbed her scripts and headed for the door.
Then I stopped and made myself a fresh sandwich for the road. No sense in digging into my travel stash after all.
The people at Canada-Pharm were a little surprised to see me. Tiffany at the front desk nearly fell out of her chair, her face white as a ghost. I gave her my small smile as I scanned my pass card and walked into the cubicle farm.
A lot of people had similar reactions to poor Tiffany. Folks whom I never said three words to on a daily basis were coming out from their desks and offices, trying to shake my hand. Ask how I was feeling. What I was doing there. Kory and Michael stood up from whatever nerdy conversation they were having about spoilers released from the San Diego Comic Con to stare at me as I walked to the Human Resources office.
It was really kinda overwhelming. To be honest I didn’t handle it very well. Lots of concerned and well-meaninged people blinked and started back at the look on my face as they approached. I tried to nod, give small smiles at folks. But overall I just tried to pass by them without stopping on my way towards the office.