A Case of Black and Blue

19 | A Dash of Perspective

After one exceptionally terrible night, I was surprised to come out the next day nearly scotch free. I knew it had to be thanks to Leo once again, but I really had no idea why. If I was in his shoes, I probably would've enjoyed watching myself rot. But he didn't let that happen and I was free to go before noon the next day and only had a few fines to pay and I might've had public intoxication on my record, but the cop was saying something about going to a class and getting it expunged so it didn't feel too serious.

It was, however, absolutely humiliating with the amount of cops that were in the station and watched my hungover self walk out. My phone was dead, because honestly, what phone needed to have a lifespan more than a couple of hours? And so I had to proceed to do the worst walk of shame ever. I couldn't even use my one free call because I hadn't learned a new number since the last time I was locked up.

Beyond all of that, my ankle was swollen and bright purple, so the walk was more of a waddle and only lasted until I got from the front doors to the sidewalk. I sat at the curb and pulled off my shoe, examining the mess. My whole foot was two sizes too big and it didn't look so good. I groaned as a cop made his way into the building.

"There's no easy way out of this one so you might as well just do what you gotta do." I said, trying so hard to encourage myself. I got back up and looked around. From where I was, my house might've been a good thirty-minute walk, possibly more considering my foot and my parents house was literally a two-minute drive from the jail, so maybe no more than a ten-minute walk. On any other day I would've preferred suffering through the walk home, but thanks to my ankle, my parents house won out. "What you gotta do."

All in all, it wasn't a bad day. My mom bombarded me with her concern for everything, talking about the Gregory case and smothering me with food, while my dad was chill and had a look at my ankle for me. He gave me a splint for my foot, saying it didn't look too bad, but we'd keep an eye on it. I was thankful for his quick fix because I really didn't need another medical bill.

After all was said and done, I was finally ready to go back to work the next day. It felt like I had been gone for ages, probably because I lost a few brain cells from the concussion, but I was so happy to be back, smelling old wooden baskets and rusty metal antiques. I was probably walking too much, considering the state of my foot, but I truly believed in the healing power of simply believing.

"Kevin didn't give me any details, but he wanted me to apologize to you for him." Darcy spoke. She was still being very quiet around me. I was sure after she didn't see me for a full night and then I came home in the evening the next day with a splint on my foot she was concerned. I blew her off because I definitely wasn't ready to tell that story so I wasn't surprised she reached out to the last person she'd seen me with.

"It's all good. I'll text him later." I said, continuing the patch of floor I was sweeping. The floor of this shop had to get dirtier than any floor I ever stepped on. I still remembered the day some parents let their toddler crawl around it. It was so gross. I wasn't one to talk though, I had spent the other night on the floor of a dirty jail cell with my head hung over its toilet.

"Whenever you're ready to talk about it, I'm all ears." Darcy said, continuing to refold, already nicely folded, bandanas. I knew she was getting a little frustrated at my silence, but the story was already so long and I didn't know what the conclusion was.

"I know, soon." I told her.

"Today?"

"Okay, yeah. Later today." I said. She smiled at me and I gave her a half smile back. She stopped fiddling with the bandanas and went off to another part of the store. Her strides were cut short by the chiming of a bell, signaling someone had walked in. All three of us—Darcy, Mr. Jones and I—stopped what we were doing to look at officer Leo Lombardi as he entered the space.