On the Sand by Sean Michael

Author:Sean Michael [Michael, Sean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Torquere Press
Published: 2010-04-29T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty SevenDick knew Rig was starting to feel better because he was bitching and demanding to go home.

And wanting food.

Today they were introducing a liquid diet. He hoped it was more appetizing than the crap they served in the cafeteria. Breakfast was somehow the hardest meal to get just right.

"You think with the emphasis on protein they'll do you a steak, Rig?"

Rock shuddered. “Liquid steak would suck."

Rig turned green, started gagging. Oh, no. Not again. Every morning for the past three days, Rig's mornings were all about nausea.

"Breathe through your nose,” he said quietly. “Deep, calm breaths."

"I. Want. To. Go. Home."

"Yeah, I know.” He didn't bother repeating that Rig couldn't, that Rig needed to heal. Rig knew. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, feeling tired and out of sorts.

"I'm sorry. Shit.” Rig closed his eyes. “Rock, why don't y'all go have breakfast? Get a hotel room. Fuck."

Rock grunted. “Promised you we weren't leaving you here."

"It's okay, Rig. Hospitals are shitty places to be stuck. You want me to read to you or something?"

"No. I'm good.” Rig looked green around the gills, stressed, worried.

"Are you? Is the pain okay?"

"I'm gonna make it.” Uh-huh. Right.

"Rig..."

Rock came over and put his hands over his hips. “Take the fucking painkillers, Rig."

"If I keep taking them, they won't let me come home with y'all."

"If you're hurting badly enough that you need them, Rig, then you need to take them."

Dick stroked Rig's forehead. “Why don't I ask about getting you transferred to the hospital near us? We can afford to pay for the ambulance, can't we, Rock?"

Rock grunted. “Maybe. Take the fucking painkillers."

Rig shook his head. “Let me eat something first, y'all. It'll help the nausea."

Dick managed not to grimace. Some of the liquid crap they had Rig eating looked pretty foul.

"All right.” He rang the bell for the nurse.

Man, Rock had to stop hovering. Or at least do it without looking quite so ... grim.

Rig closed his eyes, just leaned back into the pillows.

The little tinny voice sounded. “Can I help you?'

"Can we get some food in here for Mr. Roberts, please? He's on a special diet."

"He'll get breakfast with everyone else, sir. They're coming."

Rock growled. “Man needs his food in order to take his pain meds. I'm going to go hurry them up."

Dick sighed and stroked Rig's hair back. “Won't be long."

"Y'all don't have to flutter. I'll be fine. You heard the surgeon."

"I'm not fluttering. I'm ... caring for you.” Not that there was much to do, which was why Rock was so damned growly and glowery—he wanted to make it all better, but couldn't.

"Yeah. Yeah, Pretty. I hear you.” Rig nodded, sighed.

"We want you home just as badly as you want to be there. I think that getting you transferred thing was a good idea. We'd be that much closer and you know all the doctors and nurses there, so it would be easier, right?"

"I think we ought to just have me go home. Helen could help me with anything I needed."

"It's only been four days, Rig, and they were talking two weeks.

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