You can not imagine the elation I felt when I was finally sitting on the porcelain behind a closed door, instead of having someone watch me use a bedpan. Though the broken collarbone quickly reminded me of my remaining restrictions after the deed was done. Being allowed out of bed was proof that my healing process had progressed smoothly, so being discharged the following week was a real possibility now.
Despite the doctor’s warnings, I tried to get out of bed as soon as the catheter was out and almost fell flat on my face. The leg did not hurt at all anymore while I was lying in bed, but when I tried to use my thigh muscles to walk, it suddenly hurt a lot! According to the doctors, who expected that outcome and had a wheelchair already waiting for me, it would take a while and quite some painful effort before I could make full use of that leg again. At least I could wear shorts again, not to mention enjoy my last few sponge baths without a tube in my dick!
Two days later, on the morning of January 3rd, I was released, and immediately realized just how complicated my life would be in the near future.
I managed to put some sweatpants on, and was even able to pull a shirt over my head with only slightly unbearable pain levels, but tying my shoes one-handed was simply impossible. Dressing myself would be a challenge, but I could manage as soon as I got my hands on a shoehorn. At least I didn’t have to climb stairs to get into my apartment. I realized the real problem when they wheeled me out of the building, though.
The Land Rover I drove when chauffeuring Mia was an automatic, but since I was out of commission, they had driven it back to the company parking lot. My Jeep, however, was a manual. With my right arm strapped to my torso, there was no way for me to safely shift gears while driving. Even if I managed to dress myself, I couldn’t drive anywhere myself. At that particular moment, I couldn’t even call for a cap, since I had no money in my pocket that wasn’t dyed red.
I was just standing in front of the hospital’s entrance, pondering on whether I should call Paul and ask him for a ride, when the problem was solved by an unexpected benefactor.
“Need a ride?” Jack’s voice called out from a few feet to my side.
“Oh!” was my entire comment upon realizing who just called out to me.
Truth was, I wasn’t exactly comfortable with the idea. I was used to being on my own and having to constantly defend myself, so people seeing me in this state, and people knowing I needed help, made me ... anxious. That was also the main reason why I didn’t want the Millers to visit me before. Ultimately, though, I didn’t have much of a choice. Even if I blew him off now to call someone else instead, he already knew anyway.
“Yes. Thanks. I didn’t plan that far ahead, to be honest.”
He just grinned and patiently watched me as I shuffled towards his waiting car. He then helped me into the passenger seat, put my bag and crutch in the backseat, and we drove off. He was quiet for about five minutes before he spoke up in a confusingly regretful voice.
“Dad told me what you said when he thanked you for saving Mia.”
“Uh ... Sorry, but what did I say?”
“That he should thank me instead of you.” The regret was gone from his voice. Now he sounded stern. Almost angry. And I had no clue why.
“Is that a bad thing somehow? You did good. You reacted when the others were panicking.”
“I fucking locked you out of the safe-room!” he suddenly got loud. “You took a bullet for my sister, and instead of fucking helping you, I slammed the door in your face!”
That surprised me. But what surprised me even more was the sudden drop in my anxiety level.
“So?” I asked calmly, which made him look at me like I lost my mind. Only then did I understand how this must have been eating away at him for the entire week I was in the hospital. “Jack, you did good! I mean that! There were ... what? Nineteen people on your side of the door? ‘The needs of the many’, and all that.”
“The What now?” he asked, visibly confused, but had also calmed down a little.
“Seriously, Jack. That movie is possibly a cultural heritage at this point.” I shook my head in disapproval. “What if I hadn’t been able to take him down? How many of you would’ve been shot if that door was still open?”
“Yeah, sounds nice when you put it like that in retrospect, but at the end of the day, I was ... simply...” his voice trailed off, but I already knew what he was complaining about.
“Course you were. I’d be surprised if you weren’t. Some random asshole with a gun showed up in your house and started shooting people! Ever heard of Fight or Flight?” he hesitantly nodded his head. “You might think you chose Flight because you slammed the door shut. But Flight would’ve meant running. Instead, you had the presence of mind to not only slam the door to protect yourself like you claimed. You grabbed Mia and pulled her into the room before you closed it. You did your job as her big brother.”
