"You are one stubborn man," I reply. "How's your head?"
He glares at me again, and I raise my eyebrow in challenge,bring it on, buster.
I move to the medical rolling cabinet and get out the painkillers. It's a little early for his next dose, but I'm sure his head feels like it's about to split open.
The fridge by the bar has been restocked, and I pull out a bottle of Voss water to hand to him with the pills. With a loud, irritated sigh, he takes both from me.
"What am I supposed to do all day?"
"Heal," I deadpan.
He swallows the pills. "According to you, I can't heal without rest, and I can't rest when I'm angry."
He's got a point.
"I suppose not." I grab the TV remote. "Have you tried watching a movie or show?"
"I don't like movies."
Of course he doesn't.
"Okay, how about a cooking show?"
"Cooking show?"
"Yeah, never mind." I channel surf and automatically stop at one of the renovating shows I like.
"Home improvements?" His voice has the same edge as when he saidcooking shows, like it's something beneath him.
"I like them."
"You do?" He turns to me, surprised.
I nod, "Yeah. Someday, I'd like to renovate an old house and make it pretty again."
"Interesting. Alright, let's watch it."
Feeling like I've won a victory, I sit down next to him, not daring to mention his bandages. At least he'sonthe bed. He's not lying down like he's supposed to, but I count this as a small win.
"And they make money doing this?" He asks after a while.
I nod eagerly. "Yes, lots of it."
I realize that my idea of lots of money is vastly different from his when he scoffs at the end of the show, where the people who invested earn a net profit of forty-three thousand dollars.
"Forty-three in three months," he huffs.
"That's a lot of money for a lot of people," I say a bit defensively.
"I suppose," he acknowledges.
"What?" I demand, almost able to see the cogs in his mind turning.
"Nothing, are you ready to change my wrappings?"
At least it sounds like his sense of humor has returned.
"Sure."
