Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One (15 page)

Mark looked
relieved, and maybe a little afraid that the recently incapacitated
gunshot victim almost kicked his ass. “If you’re cool, man then I’m
cool.”

“I’m cool.”

“Cool.”

“What is this,
a Travolta flick?”

“Like
Pulp
Fiction
?”

“I was
thinking more
Get
Shorty
.”

“So long
as it wasn’t
Grease
.”
“Fuck you,
Grease
is a
classic.”

“Are you gonna
give me a ride home or what?”

“Sure, I gotta
take my baby to the carwash anyways to get your stank outta
her.”

Chapter
12

I gave it a
full two days before I went back to the gym.

Truth to
tell I had a ton of things to do before I could even consider
whether I was healthy enough to get my ass into the weight room,
though it was never far from my mind. Hell, for the better part of
seven years I’d never really had a bunch of days off in a row. Sure
some “vacation days” required by government regulations with
Canada-Pharm
where I didn’t go into
the office. But given Mom’s condition it’s not like we ever took a
trip or really relaxed.

Plus, I was
usually tossing drunks out of bars on weekends. So why bother going
anywhere only to be back on Friday?

But for once -
aside from taking care of my Mom and some miscellaneous errands - I
had a few days more or less to myself.

Which of course
meant I had to fill them up with as many tasks as possible.

The Wednesday
after I was “released” from the hospital I went into my general
practitioner’s office for a post-op checkup. But really it was more
of an order, left in the form of an intense message on my mother’s
answering machine. Which of course meant Mom got it before I did,
allowing her Mom-stare to guilt me into agreeing to subject myself
to yet more poking and prodding.

Dr.
Beasley had a decent sized practice with a small lab on site. Most
of his patients were of the elderly persuasion which made it an
oddity for anyone my age to even walk into his facility. Which
meant when I
did
need to see
him, I usually had to wait forever and a day for an appointment.
Never mind the time I spent sitting in the office
itself.

But on this day
I was whisked right in, my ass not even gracing one of the waiting
room chairs.

Doc’ was
waiting for me in his office, the expression on his gray bearded
face a thundercloud. Apparently I had offended him somehow in the
local medical community by not staying in hospital for months and
then checking myself out without approval. I just think he was
pissed because he was asked to give me a whole battery of tests as
a follow up, and made me promise to check in with him weekly until
notified otherwise.

Irritating.

So I gave a few
vials of blood. He swabbed my cheek. I peed in a bottle. Did some
basic calisthenics. He checked on my scars and gave a surprised nod
at how well they were healing before applying another set of
bandages. My blood pressure got checked. The stethoscope was cold
as always against my chest. He advised me not to do any strenuous
activity or weight training until he gave the okay, get lots of
rest and to lay off the fatty foods. Then he reluctantly signed a
few forms for work and my insurance folks with the bank.

Two hours and a
bunch of grief and aggravation later I was out the door.

And
starving.

So I went
to
Wendy’s
.

What? It was on
my way to the bank.

Sort of.

My
finance guy Kevin was exceedingly helpful as always. Showing me the
correct forms to sign in order to process the mortgage deferral
until my health insurance kicked in. When all was said and done, I
would be making only slightly less every two weeks than I got
regularly from
Canada-Pharm
after taxes. Not enough to retire on but enough to cover the
essentials until the doc’ declared me able to return to
work.

Cause’ sitting
on my ass and taking pharmaceutical orders over the phone is so
taxing on my body.

But I
wasn’t going to turn down a chance to actually stay home and get
paid so I smiled as best I could and thanked Kevin. He asked after
Mom as always and we chatted some. He discussed options with me
again to assist with the credit card debt, offering different loan
options. And as always I was a stubborn cuss and refused, knowing
that if I was granted a loan to pay off the card I’d just end up
shit creek somehow and start borrowing from MasterCard again.
Leaving me with a loan
and
credit card debt.

Pass.

I left the bank
after about an hour and a half and then gave up on going to the
library in favor of heading home to make dinner for Mom.

Plus I was
starving again.

Made a huge
batch of pasta with salad and garlic bread. I then proceeded to
stuff myself senseless while Mom picked away at hers. Some groggy
puttering around the house, tidying things up and organizing my
next day filled my last waking hours. Then we watched some hockey
playoffs with until she fell asleep on the couch. I tidied up some
more before giving up and going downstairs, deciding on an early
bedtime. You know, doctor’s orders and all that.

My stomach woke
me up just after midnight.

Starving.

The Thursday
after I was “released” from the hospital I got up early and scoured
the depths of the basement deep freezer, looking for things I could
thaw out and have pre-cooked for quick snacks. My appetite was
getting worse but I felt a ton better just after a proper sleep in
my own bed. Amazing how that works. Those hospital beds have
nothing on my twenty year old twin mattress that my ankles fall off
of.

I made a
huge breakfast. Six whole eggs with frozen hash browns and some
sausage that had been buried in the back of the freezer for ages.
Whole pot of coffee. Some toast. A bowl of
Rice Crispies
for Mom, and then a bigger bowl for
myself. When I was stuffed to the point where I couldn’t eat
another bite I staggered back into the kitchen. Threw a beef flank
in the slow cooker with a few potatoes and brussel sprouts for
dinner that night. Tidied up the dishes and packed two salami
sandwiches.

I went back to
Dr. Beasley’s office, this time for Mom’s appointment. Waited the
usual amount of time while Mom got checked out and had her ‘scripts
refilled. Drove around a little bit, letting Mom enjoy her time out
of the house. She never got as much as she needed. She asked me to
stop in at the church which of course turned into me getting asked
to move some tables and chairs around in the upper hall. They
always needed help with that sort of thing, the average church goer
being somewhat aged and fragile.

Of course being
in the church meant memories, both good and bad. I tried to ignore
them all as I moved furniture into some semblance of order. Pastor
Lee came out of his office, chatting with Mom and “Thanking God”
for my miraculous recovery. He shook my hand and gripped my
shoulder in that priestly way, making me feel both welcome and
uncomfortable at the same time.

Once Mom
started coughing I bundled her up and drove home.

After getting
her settled in and relaxed I grabbed her scripts and headed for the
door.

Then I stopped
and made myself a fresh sandwich for the road. No sense in digging
into my travel stash after all.

The
people at
Canada-Pharm
were a
little surprised to see me. Tiffany at the front desk nearly fell
out of her chair, her face white as a ghost. I gave her my small
smile as I scanned my pass card and walked into the cubicle
farm.

A lot of people
had similar reactions to poor Tiffany. Folks whom I never said
three words to on a daily basis were coming out from their desks
and offices, trying to shake my hand. Ask how I was feeling. What I
was doing there. Kory and Michael stood up from whatever nerdy
conversation they were having about spoilers released from the San
Diego Comic Con to stare at me as I walked to the Human Resources
office.

It was really
kinda overwhelming. To be honest I didn’t handle it very well. Lots
of concerned and well-meaninged people blinked and started back at
the look on my face as they approached. I tried to nod, give small
smiles at folks. But overall I just tried to pass by them without
stopping on my way towards the office.

I hate when
people notice me. Makes me uncomfortable.

Donna
McNulty was the HR Specialist for
Canada-Pharm
. Early forties with a pinched face,
short cropped bottle blonde hair and petite. Dealing with her was
always so formal. Most people that get into Human Resources are
usually very personable, sympathetic and genuine in their ways. At
least, that’s what I’ve been told by people who’ve worked for other
offices. Donna was exceedingly professional. Like she had learned
all of her lessons step by step, knew precisely what it was she
needed to do in every situation and followed it to the letter of
the HR Manual. Asking just the right questions. Smiling just the
right amount. Pretending to be interested just the correct amount.
It was very peculiar every time you needed to deal with
her.

In this case it
worked perfectly for me. I had forms I needed signed for my time
away and for the insurance companies and Donna knew exactly what
was needed from the company’s end.

It still took
over an hour for me to get into her office, get everything put in
order and filed away. When we were all done she stood up stiffly,
put just the right sized smile on her face and shook my hand
robotically wishing me a “speedy recovery” in the most bland tone
possible.

Bizarre. Woman
was a fucking robot, I swear.

Still, it
wasn’t quite as bizarre as having the
Canada-Pharm
CEO Dr. Stephen Balustrade track me
down in the pharmaceutical lab.

I had been
speaking with the techs about Mom’s prescriptions, getting the
updates added onto her patient profile and having her refills
prepped. Of course it took me a few minutes to get the kid to stop
messing around with his smart phone, but once I had his attention
he got right to work.

Suddenly - like
a ninja appearing out of the shadows - fifty year old Dr.
Balustrade was there, pumping my hand like a water well and smiling
hugely. Welcoming me back, congratulating me on my recovery and
saying tons of overly positive things while giving my first name a
real verbal workout. So stunned by this barrage of forced
friendliness I didn’t even notice Donna off to the side with an
older Canon camera until the industrial sized flash went off and
completely blinded me.

By the time my
vision had cleared, Dr. Balustrade and Donna had disappeared and
the pharmacy tech was complaining about having to reboot his
phone.

I managed to
sneak out of the lab without getting ambushed by any other members
of the senior management. Tiffany waved at me as I passed through
the front lobby, obviously recovered from her surprise. I gave her
my small smile and slipped out without saying a word.

By the time I
fired up my rusty old girl and got her rumbling my stomach began to
growl.

I stared down
at it incredulously even as I reached for a sandwich.

Both sandwiches
were gone by the time I made it back to the bank to drop off the
last of my forms to Kevin. Getting home I checked in on Mom, set
the slow cooker onto high to finish the roast and generally went
about my business for the rest of the evening until I fell asleep
watching the Kings try to sweep the Canucks out of the Stanley Cup
Playoffs.

My stomach woke
me up just after midnight.

Starving.

Friday morning
I woke up with the sun, an occurrence I am all too familiar with
though normally it is my crummy early nineties digital clock doing
the waking with its piercing buzz. Not this day however. Light
peaked in through the window well of my basement bedroom and landed
gently on my face and instantly I was up. Refreshed. Alert.

And
starving.

Mom stumbled
out of her bedroom into the kitchen as I was preparing another
jumbo sized breakfast and stared at me for a minute before going
back to bed. I put an egg, some bacon and toast on a plate, covered
it with a lid and put it aside for when she woke up proper.

It was the
weirdest thing. Sure, I’m a big dude with a big appetite. And
occasionally when on crash diets or “nutrition plans” I would have
hunger at this level. But that was always accompanied by huge
fatigue and diminished energy levels. Which only makes sense when
you think about it; lower your intake while increasing your output
and you’ll have lower energy levels.