Believe It Or Not (An Eddie Munson Story)

On the Mend

Eddie's POV:

It's been a week since I've woken up in my hospital bed, my arm in a sling on my chest. My arm is still, unfortunately, in my sling, but I'm feeling much improved. I'm desperate to get out of my bed and see Ripley. The updates from Wayne and her mom aren't enough.

The guys stop by almost every day, noisily sitting around my bed. They talk about everything and nothing all at once, as if we are back in the school cafeteria and not in a hospital. Steve comes as well after checking in on Chrissy. He hasn't bothered to shave his face over the last week, a small mustache and beard starting to grow. Dustin particularly hates his facial hair and uses every chance he can to remind him.

"The beard is alright, but that mustache makes you look like a real creep," Dustin groans. "What do you think Chrissy will say when she sees it?"

Steve runs a hand over his face thoughtfully before shaking his head.

"Why is it only bad when I have facial hair? Eddie has a shadow," Steve gestures over to me and Dustin nods.

"But Eddie is injured," he argues.

"Besides," I start, a smug grin on my face. "Ripley doesn't mind a few bristles on the saddle."

Steve rolls his eyes and looks away, obviously disgusted and I try not to laugh as Dustin takes a moment to try to puzzle it together. When he finally comprehends what I am saying, his face turns a deep crimson and he looks like he is going to be ill.

"That's disgusting," he sputters, not looking at me.

"Says you," I chuckle. "Don't knock it till you try it. I'm sure Suzie wouldn't mind eventually."

"It's maybe a little early for them to be thinking about that," Steve says, smacking my noninjured arm and I snort.

"I definitely started thinking about it at about his age," I say, looking up at Steve and he crosses his arms over his chest.

"Yea, well, you're a neanderthal," he huffs and I laugh again.

My nurse walks in before we can carry on, a stout elderly woman named Fanny. She smiles politely at Steve and Dustin as she moves beside my bed, looking over my chart.

"How are you feeling today, Edward?" She asks.

"Eddie," I correct her. She has been working with me all week and insists on calling me by my actual name. "And I'm feeling fantastic. So great, actually that I think I'm good to go home. Or at the very least good enough to check on my girlfriend in the ICU."

"Well, we will have to let your doctor decide that," she says, her tone not hopeful and my chest fills with dread at the idea of being kept in this bed any longer.

"Is there any way you could put in a good word for me Fanny?" I say, batting my eyelashes dramatically at the nurse, making her snort. "I really can't stand just sitting here any longer."

"Maybe I can convince him to let me wheel you up there on my break," she offers, a small smile on her lips and my whole face lights up.

"But I make no promises," she hastily says before I can get too excited. "I'm not risking getting in trouble for you, Edward."

She turns to the door and starts to leave.

"You're a Saint Fanny!" I call after her. "The Catholic church should be banging down your door any day now."

I hear her laughter ring out from the hall and I sink into my mattress with a sigh, really hoping she can pull some strings. Steve and Dustin shake their heads, exasperated by my antics, but I don't care. I'd do anything to see Ripley. Even if it meant cutting off my arm to get out of here faster.