Page 82 of Knot So Social

His barely disguised irritation sends me into another fit of chuckles. He waits silently while I get myself under control, the only other sound the beep of monitors in the background.

I rub my eyes and suck in a few deep breaths. “Okay, serious now. How bad is it, and what can I do?”

“So, it’s like a tear in the ligament. I’ll be on crutches for about a week and can’t move around much. But I’ll be out of here tomorrow. Do you think you can buy the trundle bed, and come pick me up? You’re not still drunk are you?”

I scoff. “That was, like, two days ago.”

“Uh-huh.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not drunk. I can do all that. Does your workplace know?”

“Yeah, they know. Good thing is their insurance covers everything.”

“Nice. Want me to bring you pajamas and a charger?”

“That’d be great. Also, there’s one more thing. I had this friend’s place I was gonna stop by on my way home. They need a hand with some things around the office. Do you think you can go instead?”

“Sure, if it’s stuff I can do. Send me the address.”

“Will do. Take your tools.” He gives me a few more details about what he wants packed, and then we hang up. I feel a bit bad about laughing so much, but I’m oddly refreshed inside, like I’ve excised a demon. And it’s given me something to focus on.

I whip around the room, collecting the things he’s asked for, and jump in the car. On the way to the address, which sounded familiar, I grab myself a Big Mac meal.

Waiting in the drive-through for my order, a strange sense of smallness overtakes me. My life fell apart, but out here the rest of the world carries on without a care. Thousands of cars zoom through the streets, people get lunch and go to the gym, and businesses carry on, oblivious to the pain I’m going through.

Will there come a time when I move through the day without feeling like a piece of my heart’s been ripped out? Where I’m not mad about being conned? Here, in the middle of crowds, it seems possible.

I follow the navigator through recognizable streets, but it’s not until I pull up in front of my own electrical business that I realize exactly what that fucking brat has done.

Larry, Javier, and my receptionist Melanie all notice my van and pile out into the parking lot to greet me.

Melanie beams. “Boss! Welcome back.”

Larry slaps me on the shoulder. “We were getting worried. Jeremy said you were ill?”

I’ll kill him when I see him. Or maybe not, because you shouldn’t do that to an actual sick person. I wince and turn it into a cough. “Yeah, not been doing too well. How are things here?”

Apparently they’ve got their hands full too. The jobs are piling up, a visitor backed into the office wall, and one of the testing machines stopped working.

I can’t stay long; got an “appointment” at the hospital to get to. But since I’m all the way out here, I suppose I can pull a few hours to smooth things over. Being late will be Jeremy’s punishment for pulling a swift one on me.

I walk into the hospital room just as the sun’s setting, pausing in the doorway to observe. Jeremy sits up in bed with a cloud of pillows at his back and the rollover tray across his lap, eating supper. He watches a game on the TV while spooning up plain steamed vegetables and dried-out rice.

He looks normal enough, no casts or drips, but dark circles shadow his eyes.

While I watch, he spills some food, pursuing peas across the tray while trying not to miss any of the game.

“You gonna keep chasing that rabbit food, or you want something real to eat?”

He jumps and turns, face lighting up as he catches sight of me and the TexMex bag I hold up. I know darn well I’ve done nothing to deserve that smile, and yet he flashes it anyway. It’s reassuring.

“About fucking time! Yes, please.”

I cross the room. “But I haven’t decided if I’m gonna share or sit here and eat it all myself, not after that stunt you pulled sending me to my own workshop.”

He smirks. “How far did you drive before you realized?”

Shaking my head, I reply, “Not until I pulled into the damn parking lot.”