Page 80 of A Love That Broke Us
My eyes open,and I blink a few times. A dull throb pulses up my thigh and into my hip—deep, down to the bone.
Great. Now my whole body’s fucked.
Rolling onto my back, I stare at the ceiling, my vision adjusting to the dark. The soft white noise from Alley’s phone hums beside her, filling the room.
The pulse sharpens into a pound, and my hand flies to my hip, pressing hard against the ache buried deep in the joint.
“Fuck,” I mutter into the dark.
My mind immediately goes to the Oxy on the shelf. Relief, just steps away.
God, relief.
I’m dying for it. I can’t keep doing this.
Maybe I’ll just take more ibuprofen—or alternate with Tylenol. Something.Anything.
I glance over at Alley and almost laugh. Mouth wide open—catching flies, as always. The soundless chuckle eases the pain, if only for a second.
My chest tightens.Fuck, I’ve got to get this figured out. She didn’t sign up for a life with a guy who’s going to slow her down in ten years.
Hopefully the doctor has answers on Friday. I’ll try anything. If not for me, then for her—for my wife. For the future we’re building.
She went off birth control before the wedding. We talked about it. We’re ready. She’ll be thirty next year, and I’ll be thirty-three. We’ve got steady jobs, we’ve lived together for over two years. We’re in love. We’re married. It’s the next step. It feels right. But I refuse to accept a version of my life where I’m not able to run around with my kids, play basketball with them, walk the golf course. I need to be active, strong and present.
No. I won’t fucking accept that.
The ache in my leg grows sharper, and I swing to the edge of the bed, sitting up. I bend and straighten my knee a few times, stretching it, trying to wake it up. My fingers dig into the muscles around it, massaging through the pain, searching for any kind of relief.
I push myself off the bed and shuffle into the kitchen. My palms brace against the counter as a sharp pang shoots through my leg. I grit my teeth, eyes locked on the medicine cabinet.
It’s right there.
Relief.
No. I’ll take ibuprofen.
Forcing my gaze away, I grab a glass and fill it with water. The bottle of ibuprofen is already on the counter, so I twist the lid off and shake two into my hand.
Alley’s words echo in my head—“You can’t take that stuff forever.” I hold them in my hand for a couple of seconds, then toss them back into the bottle. I know they’re bad for me. They can fuck up my stomach. And the rate I’ve been taking them, like they’re going out of style? Well, that can’t be good. They don’t do anything anyway. My knee’s too far gone.
I slide the bottle back across the counter and open the medicine cabinet instead. The prescription bottle sits right at eye level.
Reaching for it, I twist the cap, and let one pill fall into my hand. My eyes squeeze shut as the pain explodes through me, like shrapnel after a bomb. It hits every nerve, every thought, until there’s nothing left but agony.
God, it hurts so bad.I tell myself again and again,Don’t be afucking pussy. But each pulse grows stronger, louder—like music swelling at a concert. The pain radiates through me, along with the voices in my head telling me not to do this.
Put it back. It’s not that bad. Take the ibuprofen. Wait until Friday.
Fisting the pill in my palm, my whole body tenses, fighting the urge that’s raging inside me.
Friday.That’s still three days away. I could just take them until then—after I go to the doctor. They’ll give me something else, something for the pain that isn’t this. I’ll start physical therapy. It’ll get better. I won’t need these after Friday. Only one a day until then. Just enough to get by, until I have another solution.
Slowly, I open my hand, staring at the little white pill. This small amounthasto be better for me than all the ibuprofen I’ve been popping. I went over the recommended daily dose yesterday.
That can’t be good.
Why am I even questioning this? Half a pill, or overdosing on ibuprofen every goddamn day?It’s not even working. It’s a no-brainer.
