Page 3 of What I Like About Sunday

“I’ll be fine,” I replied, wiping the tears from my face.

To prevent bedsores on the front of my body, and blood clots from inactivity, the nursing staff would get me upright, give me a shot of Lovenox in my abdomen which helped prevent clotting issues, give me a sponge bath, then gently lay me on the clean bedding. I was ‘covered’ in the sense they’d rigged up a blanket that enveloped me without touching my skin, and to say I was always chilled was definitely an understatement. The one thing driving me absolutely crazy besides the damn catheter, of course, was the inactivity I was facing, but I understood the reasoning since the skin grafts already done needed a great deal of time to heal. The whole situation sucked balls, but this was the hand I was dealt, and at the end of the day, all of us were alive, so I’d suck it up, and make the best out of an absolutely shitty situation.

“How’s your pain level?”

“On a scale of ‘oh I stubbed my toe’ to ‘holy shit a bear is trying to tear me apart’ I think I’m at the bear level, possibly two bears at this point,” I admitted.

Nurses and healthcare workers make the worst patients, and I knew that from the years I’d been in the field, but in this instance, I was doing what was asked, and definitely taking the pain meds because holy fuck, did I hurt!

“Let me get you some more pain meds then. You’ve got another surgery scheduled in the morning.”

“Great. Can you hand me my phone, please?” I asked, trying hard to keep the sarcasm out of my tone. It wasn’t her fault I was here or injured; no, the blame lay solely at the feet of a bunch of terrorist fuckers who didn’t value any human life.

The nurse handed me the phone that had been just out of reach, and I checked my messages. Seeing one from Jonas, I took a deep breath.

Jonas: Sunday, you deserve more than I can give. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore.

Sunday: I’ll send the ring back with my folks.

Jonas: No, keep it. I’m sorry.

I took another deep breath, then another, while I chanted to myself to take the high road. I knew why he was breaking it off. My injuries would leave me permanently scarred, even with surgery, and he was all about the appearances. I knew that about him way back when, so part of the heartache I was feeling right now was on me.

Sunday: Take care of yourself. Please don’t come back.

ChapterOne

Sunday

Present Day

“Sunday,c’mon, you gotta come with us tonight!” Bria pleads. “You haven’t really been out since you’ve been home. Cut loose a little.”

I look at my oldest friend and smile. “You know that’s not fair. I’ve spent most of the past two years having surgeries, and doing the recovery rehab work. Makes it hard to go out when your ass is covered in a protective bandage, and you’re wearing those ‘lovely’ compression garments. Besides, who the hell is going to want a freak like me? Even with all the surgeries, my left ass cheek, and thigh are horrible looking.”

“The right guy isn’t going to give a fuck,” Bria states. “Jonas was a pussy.”

Bria’s comment has me laughing out loud. “Oh my God. Tell me how youreallyfeel,” I tease, the laughter evident in my tone.

“Well, he was! I mean, let’s get honest for a second, okay? If you had married him and stayed the course, eventually, shit would have started sagging and wrinkles would have formed. And if you had kids, you’d have that pooch thing going on with stretch marks, too. You might have gained weight or hell, I don’t know, lost a limb due to some obscure thing. He obviously didn’t have what it takes for the long haul, honey. I look at pictures of my grandparents when they got married, and they were both skinny and young. Now, my grandma is short and round, but my grandpa? He still worships the ground she walks on. He sees her inside, not the outside that doesn’t stay firm and youthful.”

“Fine, I’ll go, but only because it’ll get you off my ass.”

“We’re gonna have a blast and you know it,” Bria cheers, going to my closet. Thirty minutes later, I’m decked out in skinny jeans, an emerald green silky tank top, and my tan boots. Bria corralled my hair into a French braid, and I had applied a light coat of makeup. “Alright, you’re good to go, let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Bria advises. “If you get any prettier, I won’t have a shot at catching myself a man.”

“Whatever. You know you get your fair share of guys.”

“Not when you’re around, I don’t,” Bria retorts as we close and lock the doors, then head down to my car.

“Where are we going, anyhow?” I ask once we’re in the car, and buckled up.

“Ike’s.”

Shit, I like Ike’s, but sometimes, Jonas is there, and the last thing I want is to run into him. He married someone I knew from school, and now, lived in the same fucking town. If it weren’t for the fact I own my home outright, and my parents lived in the same town as well, I would have packed up and moved.

“What if… fuck… what if he’s there tonight?” I ask my friend.

“You ignore him, just like the other thousand times you’ve seen him around town.”

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