Southern Comfort Ch. 06

Somehow, I managed to twist an ankle along the way and I was trying to deal with the pain of that injury when I heard him groan, "Oh, fuck!" It didn't sound like a good, "Oh, fuck," to me. I tried to get my weight off my throbbing knee by rolling over. I could hear him still cursing in a way that sounded like he was in more pain than I was.

I slowly crawled over to him to inspect the damages. My knee was already turning blue and swelling. I discovered that Bob wasn't pretending injury. He was lying on one side holding his ribs and breathing very shallow. I tried to move his hand so I could help him sit up. "Don't!" he hissed at me. "Don't touch me. I think I just broke a fucking rib."

"Are you serious?" I asked in disbelief. He nodded and moaned. I knew he had to be in severe pain because he didn't even bother to ask if I was okay.

I went into crisis mode. It took me several minutes to convince him we had to get him up off the floor so I could see how bad it was. It was a slow and difficult process to get him to the edge of the bed, even with him doing most of the work.

Once he was more or less sitting on the edge of the bed, I finally got him to move his hand so I could examine his ribs. He was taking little short breaths when I gingerly ran my fingers over his rib-cage. I felt a small knot on the lower edge of one rib.

"I think it's fractured, Bob. We've got to get you to a hospital," I informed him. "Does it hurt when you breathe?" I asked with concern.

"Yes, it hurts when I fucking breathe!" he snapped at me. "It hurts like hell when I don't breathe, too," he snarled at me.

"Well, don't yell at me, Bob. I'm not the one who fell off the fucking bed," I snapped back at him. "It's not like I pushed you or anything," I hissed at him with my hands on my hips.

"I'm going to call Doc and ask him what to do, but I already know what he's going to say. It needs to be x-rayed and wrapped." I turned on the light and reached for the phone.

"Cindy, it's three o'clock in the fucking morning. Don't get Ed out of bed for this shit. There's nothing he can do anyway."

"Well, you need to go to the hospital. If that rib is broken, or even fractured, it can puncture your lung and then you've really got a problem," I informed him. "I'm calling, Doc anyway. I don't care what you say."

"How the fuck do you know? You're no fucking doctor," he snarled with his ill temper.

I lost my own temper at that point. "Look, you fucking idiot, I may not be a doctor, but I wasraised by a doctor until I left home. My stepfather was a doctor, both his brothers were doctors, and his father was a veterinarian. I realize you aren't a fucking cow, Bob, but guess what? The principle is the same. I know enough to know that a broken rib is nothing to fool around with.

"If you had hoof and mouth disease or anthrax, I'd just use that little toy you've got over there to shoot you and put you out of your misery, but this time you get to go the fucking hospital. So, shut the fuck up, okay?I'm the one doing the fucking now. You just hold the goddamned ears!" I snarled at him.

Bob got quiet for a moment. "I didn't know your dad was a doctor," he said giving me a wary look.

"Mystepdad," I said correcting him. "I know you think you know everything, Bob, but you don't. So, just knock it the hell off and listen to me for once, please?"

"I never said I know everything," he sulked. "I still don't know what the purpose of holding the fucking ears of a jackass is all about." I just rolled my eyes and shook my head at him in exasperation.

I called Ed over Bob's feeble protests and Doc told me exactly what I knew he would say. I helped Bob pull on a pair of jeans and a button up men's shirt. I called a taxi because my car was still at the bar, and I couldn't drive Bob's. His was a stick shift so we were essentially stranded. Then I dressed myself and waited for the taxi to arrive.

An hour later, we were seated in the ER waiting for Bob to be seen when Ed arrived. Once he was on the scene, things moved quickly. They took Bob to x-ray and then to an exam room. Ed went over the x-rays with the ER doctor. Bob had two fractured ribs.

"How'd this happen, Bob?" Ed asked as he ran his fingers over the lump on Bob's rib.

"He fell off the bed," I replied. Bob cast me a surly look and said nothing.

Ed couldn't help himself. I didn't have to tell him exactly how it happened. He started to laugh at Bob's egotistical discomfort. "We'll get you wrapped up, but you're not going to be doing anything strenuous for a while," he explained.

"How long?" Bob asked.

"It's hard to say, but I imagine between three and eight weeks," Doc replied.

"Great! I'm supposed to be going out of town tomorrow on business," Bob growled with irritation. It was the first he had mentioned of any trip. I gave him a look.

"Does your trip involve any physical activity?" Doc asked. Bob nodded. "Well, I'll give you a doctor's orders excuse and you can take the x-rays with you if you think it will help."

A little while later Bob, with his torso wrapped like a mummy, shook Ed's hand and offered his thanks. "Send me a bill, Doc," he said handing Ed a card.

"Don't worry about it. Just take it easy for a while and don't go falling off anymore beds," Ed answered as he waved away Bob's card. He handed me a prescription for pain-killers. "Give him one every four hours," Ed instructed.

I called for another taxi. I had them drop us at the bar where I transferred Bob to my car and he waited while I dashed in K&B pharmacy and had his prescription filled. For the second time that night we returned to Bob's.

It was an ordeal getting him inside and settled in bed. Bob had to have everything just right to suit him. That meant putting his gun at the bedside, setting the alarm properly, bringing him something to drink, besides alcohol, that he could take his pills with, undressing him, straightening the sheets and blankets, plumping the pillows, and so on.

It was almost daylight when I finally sat down beside him and lit a cigarette. He was smoking a joint and complaining about his ribs. I kept nodding in sympathy with him. I climbed from the bed again and retrieved the phone.

"Whom are you calling at this hour?" he asked with a frown.

I held him at bay with one hand in the air to shut him up. "Carol? Yeah, it's me. Sorry for the early wake-up call. Look, could you do me a huge favor? Could you keep the girls again for me today?" I explained my situation and finalized the arrangements before I hung up again.

"What did you do that for?" he asked sounding high.

"Because I can't leave you here all alone today. You're going to be sore as hell by tomorrow. You need someone here to take care of you."

"I can take care of myself," he informed me frowning indignantly.

"Yeah, I know. You're going to go out and get yourself something to eat. And, when you run out of cigarettes, you'll just dash right out to go get yourself some of those too, I suppose. Are you going to be able to re-wrap those ribs by yourself when you decide to get a shower after a bit?" I asked with sarcasm. "By the way, did you know your pager has been going off since last night?" I asked.

"How do you know?" he asked cutting his eyes at me.

"Because I didn't lose my fucking hearing when you threw me on the floor," I snipped. He looked taken aback by my accusation.

"I didn't throw you on the floor," he snorted, but for a few seconds, he almost sounded apologetic. He regrouped and added, "If anybody threw anybody anywhere, it was you! I'm the injured party here, you know."

"Yeah, you try telling your friends how I broke two of your ribs, Mr. Jones," I said rolling my eyes at him. "I want to see you make that one float." He opened his mouth to say something in reply, but changed his mind and closed his mouth instead.

"Remind me again how that whole perfect date thing ended again?" I asked snidely. "At least you have a new war story to add to your repertoire. You can tell everyone how you broke two ribs making a woman orgasm. Do you think they'll give you a purple heart this time?"

Bob burst into laughter and grabbed his ribs howling in pain. "Stop it! Stop making me laugh, it hurts too much."

He got quiet and watched as I stood up and began undressing again. I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it on the chair. I wiggled my jeans down over my hips and sat down on the edge of the bed as I unfastened the garters and rolled my stockings down. I had never had the chance to completely undress earlier. It felt good to be free of all my clothes again.

I stood up, stretched and piled the remainder of my clothes on the chair as well. I could feel him still watching me. "Do you need anything?" I asked as I grabbed his brush and began untangling my hair with it.

He shook his head and patted the mattress beside him. "Just come lay with me."

"I can't lay with you there, Bob. Your ribs," I reminded him.

"This is going to be fun for the next few weeks. It just keeps getting better by the fucking minute," he said sounding dejected.

I crawled onto the foot of the bed and slapped his knee lightly. He gave me a funny look and I tugged at his leg. He spread his legs and I climbed between them and gently lay down, using his abdomen as a pillow. I draped one arm around his thigh and snuggled my head against his stomach. His penis was against my throat. He closed his legs around me and stroked my head with one hand. I closed my eyes and sighed.

"Can I ask you something?" he said quietly as he still petted my head and neck. I murmured a lazy response. "You said something about a window of opportunity earlier. What did you mean by that?"

"You missed it when you threw me on the fucking floor," I answered.

"Stop saying that! I didn't throw you on the floor. Now, quit fucking around and answer my question," he snarled with irritation.

I hesitated. "If I tell you, do you promise you will you go to sleep?" I asked with my eyes still closed. I felt him nod. "Do you know how most women have multiple orgasms, one after another?"

"Some women do, but not all," he said softly.

"I don't. When I orgasm, it's so intense that it doesn't stop," I said as I pressed the back of my hand to my lips and yawned.

"What do you mean it doesn't stop?" he asked sounding doubtful.

"I mean it doesn't stop. Sometimes, it can last only ten minutes. But, usually it lasts about thirty minutes. I've had some last for over an hour," I explained.

"That's impossible," he stated flatly.

"Okay," I shrugged. "But, if you hadn't thrown me on the floor, you could've found out for yourself. You need to learn how to hold on, cowboy. Now that you've hurt yourself, you won't be riding rodeo for awhile, so I guess you won't be finding out anytime soon."

"I don't believe you. What you're saying is impossible. You're just trying to be cute and you're pissing me off. Why can't you ever answer a simple question with a simple answer?" he snapped.

I opened my eyes and raised my head to look at him. "Idid answer you, Bob. I can't help it if you don't believe me. You can ask Jon if you like. I don't know if he'll tell you or not, but you can ask him. Better yet, tell him what happened tonight and just see what he says. You may not want to call him at this hour of the morning to ask him questions about our sex life though. I'd wait until at least noon if I were you."

"You're serious," he said.

I lay my head back down and mumbled, "Go to sleep, Bob. Wake me when you get hungry and I'll go get you something to eat."

**********

Bob had to postpone his trip for several days. I stayed with him the first day, and then tended him before and after work for the next couple of days. He was up moving around on his own by then although he still complained often. I think he was enjoying the attention I paid him and that may have contributed to his slow recovery.

He came into the bar the day before he was supposed to leave in order to give me a contact phone number. He said it was for emergency use only and he made me promise not to copy it into my address book. I didn't ask him where he was going or the purpose of his trip, but I did ask him how long he planned to be gone. He informed me he probably wouldn't be back before Christmas. That was a major disappointment.

With Bob away, December seemed to drag by. The seasonal parties couldn't seem to break my dismal mood. Even though we hadn't dated in months, Ed came by the week before Christmas. He delivered an envelope intended for the girl's Christmas. It was a very generous gift and it was greatly appreciated.

I spent a good deal of my off hours with Sonny. We haunted galleries, and antique shops together. I enjoyed the time we spent together, but always, at the end of our afternoons or evenings together, I returned to Jon. And, always, without question, Jon was there for me.

I was disturbed by a development in my routine that I could not explain. It began before I Bob and I went on our first date, but in his absence it seemed to escalate. I began receiving phone calls at work. They came at abstract hours, usually when I was at the busiest part of my shift.

The caller dialed the main number, so I had to be paged to take the calls. When I would answer, no one would say anything. At times, I could hear someone breathing before the line would go dead. I questioned the girls who answered the calls and all they could tell me was the caller was male and he always asked for me by name.

The anonymous calls were abstract but routine, coming daily by the week before Christmas. On some days, there were several. I expected eventually for whomever it was to grow bored and give up, but that didn't happen. If anything, as I said, the frequency escalated after Bob left town.

On Christmas Eve night, I stopped by the Cypress to deliver Barry a Christmas card and an annual bonus. We took care of our own and most especially our favorite bartender, florist, baker, maitre'd, and so forth.

It was late and the Cypress was empty when I arrived. Barry was happy to see me.

"Hi there, Clem," he greeted me when I walked in the door.

"Hi, Barry. Merry Christmas, sweetheart," I said as I handed him the card and leaned over the bar to give him a kiss.

"Thanks, honey. Merry Christmas to you, too. You're such a doll. You didn't have to do this," he said as his stuck the card inside his vest. "I'm glad you stopped by though. I have something for you as well. Let me go to the office and get it. Be right back."

A moment later, Barry reappeared with a large vase of flowers. He set them on the bar in front of me. "Aw, Barry! They're beautiful. But, you really shouldn't have done it," I said with sincere appreciation. I leaned over the bar to give him another kiss.

Barry accepted my kiss, but he shook his head at me afterwards. "Clem, I'm afraid you misunderstood. The roses aren't from me. I can't afford flowers like that. You should know better," he protested.

"I don't understand, Barry. If they aren't from you, who are they from?" I asked.

"Why don't you read the card and find out?" he said rolling his eyes at me.

"Good idea," I replied exasperated by my own stupidity. I removed the small card from the envelope. It read simply 'Merry Christmas, Cindy'. I gave the flowers another look. There were two-dozen solid white roses in the bouquet. Interspersed among them were white carnations edged with deep pink. They almost looked like peppermints.

"Who was the courier, Barry?" I asked.

He shook his head again. "It wasn't a delivery, Clem. Those were delivered in person."

"How do you know?" I asked cocking my head at him with curiosity.

"Have you ever seen a courier dressed in a tailored suit?" he snorted at me.

My heart skipped a beat. "What did he look like?"

Barry shrugged. "He looked like a guy in a suit. Mid to late thirties, I guess. Tall with dark hair and eyes. He was a local, but I've never seen him before," Barry explained. "I sure hope he comes back though. He gave me fifty bucks just to hold those for you until you came in."

"Did he say anything, Barry? Did he leave a message of any kind?"

"No. He just asked if you had been in tonight. When I said 'no', he asked me to hold those until you got here," Barry looked at me with suspicion. "Don't you know who they are from, Clem?"

"I'm not sure, Barry."

"Well, I can tell you this, it's the same guy who keeps calling for you here. I recognized his voice. He's real quiet. Sometimes, I can hardly hear him," Barry said as he wiped a glass dry and placed it on the rack.

"You've been getting calls for me here?" I asked now feeling a little uneasy.

"Sure. Almost every night," Barry shrugged. "He never leaves a message. He just asks if you're here. When I tell him no, he thanks me and hangs up."

"How long has that been going on?" I demanded.

"I don't know, Clem. Maybe a couple of months?" Barry pondered. "Look, what's up, girlie? Do you know this guy or not?"

"I told you, I don't know. I'm not sure. But, someone keeps calling me at work everyday, too. He hangs up when I answer," I explained. "Jesus, Barry, why didn't you tell me this before now?" I asked scowling at him.

"I don't know. I guess I didn't think much about it. This guy is a little too old to be playing secret admirer, don't you think, Cindy? Maybe you should tell your friend Jon about it. People are crazy. This guy could be some kind of a nut," he said with concern.

"No. If he were a nut, he would've done something crazy besides just calling and sending flowers. Do me a favor and keep this just between us for now, please? I don't want to go borrowing any trouble unnecessarily," I said.

**********

The day after Christmas, Bob called. We had been playing telephone tag for nearly two weeks. I was very happy just to hear his voice.

"Well, hey there, finally," he said when I answered the call.

"Where are you?" I asked before even greeting him. I was hoping he was either home or on his way.

"You mean you actually noticed I've been gone?" he asked with a laugh. "I've been trying to reach you for the past two weeks."

"I got two messages from you, but I guess we just keep missing each other. When are you coming home, Bob?"

"You sound like you miss me a little bit. Could it be so?" he teased.

"What did you do for Christmas?" I asked avoiding his question.

"Well, not much. I was going to go out to dinner, but I decided to just stay in instead. What did you do? Did you have a nice holiday?"

"It was okay. The girls opened presents in the morning. Roger took them to dinner at his mom and dad's," I explained.

"Where did you eat dinner?" he asked.

"Jon had early dinner with his kids, so we just made breakfast for supper later."

"You didn't have Christmas dinner with anyone?"

"No. I went to Sonny's in the afternoon. Then, I went by Jon's for a while. I wasn't really hungry anyway," I shrugged.

"So, what did Santa bring you?" he asked.

"Jon gave me jewelry. Sonny bought me lingerie and some music."

"What did your husband give you?"

"Nothing. We don't do gifts. Only for the girls."

He paused for a moment. "Well, aren't you going to ask me what I got you?"

"I wasn't expecting anything, Bob. I just want to see you. When are you coming home?" I asked again.

"Not right away. That's why I called. But, I have something here that might brighten your day a little," he said sounding cheerful.

"What is it?"

"Two round-trip tickets to the Bahamas." He was quiet for a moment waiting for my response. "Cindy? Are you still there?"

"Yeah. I'm here. I can't go," I replied flatly.

"Well, I know it's late notice, but I thought we might spend the New Year on the beach together," he said. "You said you needed a vacation before I left and I know how much you love the beach. It's only for a few days."