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I woke up to four things. 1) My phone alarm going off. I had expected that. 2) Pounding on my door. I had also expected that, but not so soon. 3) Yelling. It was a holy racket outside my apartment door. That I had not expected, and was not happy about. 4) An indescribable pain in my right leg. That was also expected, and I couldn’t do much about it. I reached for my phone and turned the blaring alarm off, knocking over a half full plastic cup, which spilled water all over my fake wood floor. Now that there was less noise, I was able to hear myself think. My thoughts were not kind. I was couch and bed-ridden for a month. I was two days into my sentence, and not enjoying it. I had done something to my leg at the gym a week ago, and after an embarrassing trip in an ambulance, I was told I needed a whole lot of surgery. There was a lot of technical talk, much of which included torn tendons, ripped cartilage, a lot of initials and the sum ending in, “you’re fucked.” I most certainly was. After a week in the hospital, I had crawled onto my couch and hadn’t moved much since. I was wearing an old, tatty, free tee-shirt that was about five sizes too big and a pair of girl boxers, my mummified leg propped on multiple pillows. “AL! Open the door!” That was Jamey. “Hold on! We got a key!” I groaned at my once brilliant idea as the locks on my door yielded to a copy of my key. “We’re coming in!” gaziantep suriyeli escort Ryan informed me, and I couldn’t help but be thankful the racket had halted. Ryan, Jamey and I had been best friends since freshman year in college. We were a Biology lab group, and the bond had continued far beyond Bio. Ryan had gone from pre-med to become a doctor, Jamey a nurse and I a freelance photographer. We moved to the same city together, and supported each other in times of need. Our needs differed; mine, most commonly, a person I could call when I lost my apartment key or locked myself out or could drunk dial for a ride home. Ryan was useful with both. Jamey was useful to get drunk with. I now regretted my decision to entrust them with keys. “Go away.” They came in my apartment with pizza, beer and my favorite pop. “Leave the pizza and pop.” They kicked their shoes off and put their offerings on my table. Jamey got a dishtowel and Ryan carefully looked at my line of pill bottles, then at my leg, then at me. “How bad does it hurt?” He looked at the swelling, lifted a few bandages and tickled my foot. “That’s a dumb question.” I glowered at him and grabbed my throw blanket, pulling it over me. It wasn’t that I was uncomfortable around them, seeing me braless and in panties, we’d seen each other naked plenty of times and I knew they were gay for each other, but I hadn’t been brave enough to try and shower and there was definitely some stubble that could be shaved away. I didn’t have any good females friends I trusted with a razor anywhere on my body and my mother was five states away and I sure wasn’t about to call her. “You hungry?” Jamey poured some pop over ice for me. I struggled out of my slouched position to accept the soda. “Yes.” I replied. I gulped down something other than stale water for the first time since the hospital. Also I hadn’t done any shopping before the accident and was left with slim pickings. I had eaten all of my crackers, made ramen with difficulty, suffered through the freezer burnt microwave meals, and made pancakes, only to find the only syrup I had was for adult drinks, not pancakes and was down to a can of soup and a moldy slice of bread. Jamey watched as I hungrily mowed on the Hawaiian pizza, my favorite. The boys were definitely earning points. “You look a little rough.” I flipped Ryan the bird as he sipped on some beer. “How’d you find out?” I mumbled through slices of heaven. “Besides the ignored texts and phone calls?” Jamey munched thoughtfully on a slice. “Everyone was talking about it at the gym. They’re praying you don’t sue.” “Why would I do that? Sure, the equipment malfunctioned but it’s nobody’s fault.” Everybody was out to get somebody, apparently. Not me, I would be happy for a shower, some food and something other than bad daytime TV. “They comped you three years membership costs, and threw in a bunch of extras.” Jamey grinned at my pouty face. “Does it look like I’ll be working out anytime soon?” “You been keeping up on the pain meds, miss Cranky?” Ryan eyed my nearly full bottles. “They make me sick, I can’t take them.” “Did you call your doctor and ask for alternative prescriptions?” Ryan enunciated each word carefully. “Yes, and they told me he was on vacation. I’m mostly fine, unless I move, or think, or breathe.” We finished the pizza in silence. Ryan cleaned up and Jamey looked at my sorry state. “You could use a bath.” “I know I could, but I’m not exactly in an adventurous mood, and I don’t want another ambulance ride when I fall and hurt myself worse.” “Dude, you do realize I’m a murse, right?” Jamey liked the male nurse combo. He pointed to his scrubs. I had to appreciate his body. He and Ryan were very competitive, especially when it came to their workouts. The results, bodies better than Abercrombie models. I am also competitive, but I can’t be described as a model. “I give sponge baths for a living.” I knew he was joking; he worked the ER in a busy city. He never gave sponge baths. “There are advantages to having friends in the medical field, if you ever answered our calls or texts you would we’re here to help you. You haven’t got anything edible in here, ya know?” Ryan held up the can of expired soup. “I’m going to go get something you can eat.
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