The pharmacy worker blinks, then grins. “I like the way you think.” He grabs the largest available bag of the same condoms.
“Thank you, sir. I also require the enema kit and lubricant.”
“Right.” The pharmacy worker does his blinking thing again. “I, uh, don’t have personal experience with enema kits. Not of course, that there’s anything wrong with using…” He shakes his head. “Well, hygiene is good! We have a whole aisle of soap and body wash. Everyone likes to be clean.”
“We only require an enema kit at this time,” Florian says.
The pharmacy worker nods. He looks lost, and I wonder if anyone has asked him for an enema kit before. He soon brightens though and ushers us further down the aisle to a small selection.
“I want the most expensive one,” Florian says.
“And that is an attitude that we at GoodPharmacy appreciate,” the pharmacy worker says formally. He hands Florian the most expensive enema kit, and then a lubricant that apparently the pharmacy worker does have personal experience with and recommends.
I do my best to not sink into the speckled vinyl tile floor as Florian offers his gratitude to the pharmacy worker, then pays for our sex equipment.
We walk back to the apartment, Florian clutching the too-thin plastic bag in one hand and my hand in his other.
“I want it to be good for you, mi amor,” Florian says to me.
“You are a very sweet man,” I say faintly.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Florian
After our pharmacy errand, I take a nap. Unfortunately, when I wake up, I still do not remember the past six weeks.
But I remembered ‘mi amor.’ I grin. That is progress.
A doorbell rings, and I hear voices.
It must be my family. I hurry from my bed.
When I enter the living room, Mateo is speaking to an older, blond man.
“Oh!” Mateo must sense my presence, because he glances behind him. “You’re awake.”
I pad toward him.
The middle-aged blond man looks familiar.
“I am so glad to see you up,” the man says.
“This is Coach Holberg,” Mateo says.
I smile gratefully at him, and Coach Holberg looks ashamed.
“I am sorry to hear about your amnesia, Florian,” Coach Holberg says.
“I am sorry I got hit. I must be inconveniencing you.”
Coach Holberg does not contradict me, and my chest curdles. I step closer to Mateo.
He gives a sort of startled soft inhale as Coach Holberg tells me that the player who hit me has been suspended.
It’s probably a good thing, so that other players are less likely to injure players like me, but I hate that his career has been hurt because of a situation I was in.
