House Rules

Recuperation

"Fine," he conceded hopping back to his room. Though annoyed, he put himself back into the bed with his hurt leg lowering slowly and gingerly on the pillow that laid at the foot. "Swear that old man think he somebody daddy," he muttered crossing his arms over his chest like crossbones to comfort himself as he laid back. Stangely, he felt a little safer. Almost instantly he began to fall asleep.

"Nope." He forced his lids open and picked up his phone again punching in the passcode. Holding it with one hand, he went to the gallery to flip through, stopping on one of his favorite pictures.
It was an off-guard he'd snapped at the Reunion Tower, Y/N enjoying herself on their lil day date. She looked damn good, he remembered. It was clear in his mind. She wore the black red bottom heels she'd gotten with his black card and a mid-thigh length red kimono dress that put her thick thighs and smooth thick brown legs on display. Her hair was picked out. It reminded him of Kathleen Cleaver. Her nose was cute as a button. He touched it briefly with the pad of his thumb. Still, the best thing about the photo was the pure wonder illuminating her face as she looked at the colorful lights which shined bright as if it were Christmas.

How much brighter would her eyes get once December rolled around? What if he decorated the house with lights, inside and outside? He'd never tried it, but it wouldn't be difficult to set up. How would she react waking up to a Christmas tree and presents? He hadn't had much of that growing up, but it was something he'd wanted. In his mind, she was grinning from ear to ear. She'd probably hug him and then he'd put his arms around her waist and rock her to the sound of some old Christmas track.

He sighed. Every time he looked at this photo, it took him to a different place. He thought back to simpler times, back when he was a youngin. Back before anything bad had ever happened. There was peace.

The gleeful innocence of the moment captured on her face would always cause him to stop and think.

And then the screen darkened after he'd stared long enough. His eyelids were heavy.

Without a fight, he let the nurse who entered the room record his blood pressure, temperature, and heart rate as he'd agreed and he asked for a bottle water which she brought. He took a long drink.

Awakening his phone, he scrolled further through captured photos of Y/N, smiling at all the times he'd taken her picture without her noticing. He'd started a lil collection. There was one with her mouth open a little bit, her head back, and she was snoring. There was one with her fro smashed in in the back from leaning against a headrest. There was one of her in the mirror brushing her teeth. There was one of her chewing her food with chipmunk cheeks. He had to laugh at that one Her cheeks were already cute and fat, but that was too much. Putting the phone away, he laid back again and closed his eyes.

She can't see me like this. Not with my leg busted in a cast.

It was his pride, but it was also the fact that she'd ask. What happened, how, when, who? He ain't have the explanations for her. Nothing but the truth that she couldn't handle. From experience, he knew it would take at least a month to heal and then maybe more since the rod implanted down in the inner aspect of the bone in his leg  (thanks to the open reduction and internal fixation surgery) was temporary. It was there to stabilize and repair the fracture while the painkillers got him through the discomfort.

If he wanted to speed up the healing process, the best way to do it was to monitor his stitches keeping them clean and dry, and keep his leg protected as it currently was. In essence, he had to heed Dr. Charles' medical orders and stay put. It was irritating, but it was true.

---

"I've tried logging onto the database but it's down," Debra mutters in her atrocious northern accent. With all of those short vowels and her nasally voice, you really want to hang up and have her email instead.