6 Months

Curtains

     The man flipped a coin. It landed on its side. "what are the odds?" he asked himself, laughing as he fiddled with his car keys. "wait, one in six-thousand, I think I remember hearing that somewhere, on a documentary about chance I think. It had one of those deep-voice narrators that make me question my own sexuality." The man's vehicle of thought was abruptly, and rudely interrupted by fate as he was informed of another jackoff in his town. A muffler-less car sped past his building. "I guess I should leave now, even though doctors are never on-time. Well, I guess if I had a problem with it I should have become a doctor instead of a glorified computer."

     The man sat down into his car that appeared to be one step above a carriage, but without the rustic, bumpkin appeal. It still beats walking, which was coincidentally vandalized onto his previously white trunk. His apartment's garage always made him feel uneasy and strangely nostalgic, reminding him of the times his mother would say; "Benedict, stop running around the garage! There are cars here." Benedict winced, holding his upper-abdomen. "Fuck, I guess it's a good thing I'm going to the doctor" He nervously jested.

     As Benedict pulled out of his dispiritingly gray parking spot, the idea to look through his mirrors or retain any tutelage over his own delicate life had alluded him. He shook his head after noticing his reckless behavior. "I'm just nervous, I should take a moment to breathe before driving" he thought. Ironically, his thoughts and actions lacked correlation as he continued to trample over the dust and drywall scattered around and towards the exit of his vehicles concrete prison. The sun was covered by heavy clouds, kind clouds shielding his eyes from the earth's nearest star. The familiarly frustrating red light was waiting for him again. The street ahead was empty. Benedict tapped his fingers against the steering wheel rhythmically. Tap, tap, tap, tap. His left blinker echoed. Click, click, click. Six seconds felt like an eternity before the light shepherded him through.

     The painfully plain ring-tone from Benedict's cellphone frisked itself through his car. It was Eric, his oldest friend. They had met in middle school, yet hadn't gotten off on the proper foot, or even a decent, not broken foot for that matter. They were sworn enemies until the eighth grade, at which point their bordering-on-romantic obsession with each other had turned into a grand friendship, now tested by both space and time. Eric is currently living in London, England with Benedict in London, Ontario. Unfortunately, the comical coincidence doesn't grant them access to any sort of portal or star-gate, permitting them to feel a well-deserved punch from either party.

     "Ayyyy" Eric sounded. "What's up, jackass?" Benedict so kindly responded. "Nothing much, just wanted to call. Don't be so mean to me, I know where you live." Eric sarcastically threatened. "Big whoop, I know where I live too. I'm just on my way to the doctor to get that pain checked out." "You better be alright, if you aren't I'll fly back home and kick your ass." Eric quipped, with intonations of sincere concern for his friend. After the Iconic and always moving "Poker Face" by lady gaga was finished playing on the radio and the friends had finished their atrocious impressions, Benedict spoke. "Oh hey, I've been getting all of the green lights while driving, maybe that's a good sign? Actually, I probably shouldn't jinx it." "A bit too late for that." Eric laughed. "I'm just about there, so I'll call you when I'm done." Benedict stated, before a quick and disquieted goodbye.

     Benedict exhaled, fearful of what great pain he felt could be a manifestation of. Well, he hadn't felt much pain recently, not because he was better, but because of his new friend: opioids. Sure It wasn't something that he would have as a bumper sticker, but he had access and it helped. He just so happened to create less-than-legal connections and purchase copious amounts of morphine by accident.

     Benedict was calmed the moment he entered the bleak, disturbingly cheerful waiting room. Patients being told they won't see their families faces on Christmas morning again, with their child playing with those bead-things waiting for their daddy to take them for hot-chocolate after waiting so patiently. 

     "Mr. Bonneville, we are ready for you" an unsettlingly pleasant voice claimed. "yippee. The smaller waiting room." Benedict thought to himself. Mundane visions of the soot-colored door opening filled Benedicts mind. He searched around, reading every poster and learning the names of STI's he didn't even know existed. "What the hell is that?" he curiously asked himself with each new ailment discovered.

     The latch on the door clicked, it was the only person that it could be: Benedict's doctor. He would recognize his doctor out of a crowd at a least-readable-handwriting-convention. Benedcit was familiar with the faded beige coat sported by, as told by the silvery and stainless nameplate; Doctor Hakim.

     "So, we spoke on the phone and your upper-abdomen is still hurting?" Dr. Hakim asked, with the same cadence any doctor holds upon seeing a patient. "Yes, it hasn't been getting any better." said Benedict, unsure if he would feel any better, had he neglected the opioids. "I can write a prescription for a painkiller, but I don't think this is just persistent pain. Still having digestive problems?" "Yeah. Still feeling everything like I said on the phone." Benedict replied sharply. "Well, I suppose I you're anxious about figuring out what this is. I can do a quick test here to ensure it's nothing too serious. Open your mouth." Hakim's optimism was comforting. "Open your mouth, I'll get the results back by tonight. I have your number to call you." A paintbrush-feeling object was swiped across the inside of Benedict's mouth. "Wow, that was fast." said Benedict, now more anxious than ever to discover the results. "I understand you are probably anxious now, but you'll be fine no matter what, and this procedure used to take a lot longer. You are lucky that we come so far with technology every year! Dr. Hakim exclaimed, genuinely excited by the ideas the future could hold. "I guess!" replied Benedict, even office workers like himself were intoxicated by Dr. Hakim's excitement.

     Benedict arrived back home, merging with his bed, instantly becoming one as he swiftly turned on the television. The time faded as he woke up hours later. His irritating ringtone awoke him. "You'll want to sit down for this." said his doctor