“You shouldn’t have to ask,” he says.
“Thank you for being my friend,” I say.
His face contorts with emotion. He nods and walks to the bathroom. I hear him washing his hands.
Sid and Barry enter the room. I look at the clock. It is 7:00a.m. on the dot.
“Your laminated chore chart finally worked,” I marvel to Ron when he returns to the bedroom. “After all these years.”
“I’m just stunned you didn’t have anal cancer because you’ve been such a raging asshole for so long,” Barry deadpans.
We roar in laughter.
“Help me get him up,” Ron says. “We need to change these sheets, and you need to stand for a few minutes. You have to start moving around a bit more today, okay?”
“Yes, Nurse Ratched.”
Barry and Sid put their arms around me and walk me aroundthe bedroom, down the hall, through the living room and back again. I am winded easily.
They help me back in bed, and—as my gown goes northward—I pat the drainage bag around my leg.
“I just love you, bladder buddy.”
“Good God!” Barry yelps. “No wonder I only date younger men.”
“You need some petroleum jelly down there,” Ron says, heading into the bathroom. He sets a tube on the tray next to me. “But you’re doing that all on your own.”
Sid is quiet, but I can tell something is on his mind.
“Just say it, Sid.”
“What about...” Sid stops, searching for the right word “...sex?”
“Jury’s still out,” I say. “Some flags remain at half-mast forever. But I’m confident I will rise to see another day. Otherwise, what do I have to live for? I do have to try to get an erection once my body has had a chance to heal,” I say. “In fact, I will need an erection as soon as possible for my penile rehabilitation. Any takers?”
Barry gags.
“I guess I’ll just have to look at old photos of Tom Selleck, then. If it worked when I was young, maybe the magic will work again.” I eye Sid and continue. “I suppose you’re just asking because your sex life finally got a new lease with Leo.”
Sid ducks his head. “That’s over.”
“What?” I gasp.
“A few too many mommy issues.” Sid shrugs.
“Him or you?” I ask.
Sid smiles, but I can tell he is deeply hurt.
“I’m so sorry, my dear,” I say. “Is there any chance at all? I know how much you liked him.”
Sid looks out the window. “Loved him. I think I loved him.”
Suddenly, my heart hurts more than the catheter.
“Want me to be honest?” I ask.
“When are you not?”
