Page 137 of You First
Chagrinned, but still famished, Gray took it from him and made it disappear. He gave a sigh of satisfaction. He was still hungry, but now he at least felt less savage.
“Let’s agree never to speak of this,” Bax said, only half joking.
Gray nodded.
Gray:Thanks. I owe you.
Bax quirked a brow. “You owe me for a lot more than that.”
Guessing what he meant, Gray typed on the phone.
Gray:She’s coming over today. Be honest. How do I look?
Bax read the text, and Gray watched as his eyes widened and he nodded in grave concern.
“It’s pretty bad.”
Remembering that he held a smartphone in his hand, Gray tapped the camera and turned the viewer on himself.
“Oor Gor,” he muttered. The white dressing wrapped thickly around his head gave him the appearance of a wounded soldier, the air of heroism noticeably absent. On the right side of his head, the ends of his remaining hair stuck out from under the bandage in little tufts that looked both spiky and slightly greasy. On his left side, near the surgery site, no trace of hair remained. He realized the dressing was probably doing him a favor.
His face had gone a little moonish with swelling, and the skin under his eyes was now a faint violet. His nose shined with oil, and the corners of his mouth had whitened, his lips dry and cracked. A three-day scruff shadowed his jaw, and, despite his hope, the stubble didn’t make him look rough and masculine. Instead, it seemed to make him look and feel dirtier.
He became aware of his body then. When was the last time he’d showered? When he shifted his legs, his thighs seemed to peel apart like plastic wrap. A stale clamminess coated him, and now that he’d finished breakfast, the foul taste in his mouth couldn’t be ignored.
Gray:Help me get to the bathroom.
BAX HAD FLAT-OUTrefused to help him out of bed without an attending medical professional. No matter how he’d argued mutely and sent texts that threatened violence, Gray could not convince him to spare him that particular humiliation. When he started to attempt to leave his bed by himself, Bax pushed the call button for the nurse and physically braced Gray to keep him from moving.
To their shared surprise, a male nurse arrived, and he and Bax helped Gray to take his first tentative, post-surgery steps. Walking felt disturbingly novel. His balance was a little compromised, as though he’d forgotten where his center of gravity called home, but he made it across the room into the little bathroom without risking his life.
The nurse gave him a small toiletries kit, and Gray wasted no time brushing his teeth at the compact hospital sink. He only gave his ghoulish reflection the briefest glance.
In the walk-in shower, the nurse guided him — still dressed — to the wall-hinged bench, and Gray shuddered at the realization that he needed the support. He was relieved to know that the young, dough-faced nurse wasn’t actually going to bath him. Gray sat on the bench while the man showed him how to adjust the temperature and manipulate the showerhead. He also pointed out the red cord dangling from the wall that would summon help if pulled. After he instructed Gray on how to shower without getting his dressing wet, the nurse hung two fresh towels and a clean hospital gown on the adjacent rail, and left him to it.
It felt weird to strip down and shower while seated, but the hot water was a blessing on his muscles that had been in bed for days. A patch of adhesive on his right thigh was all the evidence that remained of the catheter. Gray had no memory of it being removed, and while that thought alone made him squirm, he was oddly grateful he couldn’t remember.
Along with the bar of soap, the toiletries kit held a disposable razor, so Gray tried to sort out his stubble by feel. The razor was cheap, and the soap and water let him know he’d given himself a few nicks, but as he continued to work and rub his fingers across his cheeks and chin, he felt like he must have done a decent-enough job.
By the time he shut off the water and dried himself, Gray felt wondrously clean and completely exhausted. He’d only been awake for a couple of hours, but the meal and the shower had been enough to do him in. As soon as he managed to make himself decent and tie the fresh gown around himself, Gray called for Baxter in his zombie’s voice.
“You’d better be dressed in there,” Bax said as he walked in. Without his phone, Gray had no choice but to attempt speech.
“Eth, atho.”
“No call for rudeness,” Bax uttered under his breath. He grasped Gray by the elbow, spotting him as he walked back to the bed. Balance was better on this trip, but his muscles felt totally drained. The nurse — or someone — had changed the sheets while he showered, and although the institutional synthetic material wasn’t exactly comfortable, it did feel better to return to a bed with fresh linens. Gray wondered how long he’d have to stay in the hospital. Already, he knew he’d be able to rest so much better at home. He guessed he’d at least need to be strong enough to shower solo before they discharged him.
As his head settled onto the thin, foam pillow, Gray texted his brother.
Gray:Wake me as soon as she gets here. I don’t want to miss anything.
Bax just rolled his eyes, but he wore a suppressed grin. It was the last thing Gray saw before sleep claimed him again.
“SON, WAKE UP.”
His dad’s gentle voice came to him through a dreamless haze.
“Gray, Meredith’s on her way up. Do you want to see her?” This time his mother spoke, and at her name, his eyes shot open.
