This is day three. His sense of humor ran out some time ago.
“My muscles are going to atrophy if I don’t get up and do something,” he says.
“No, you passed out from exhaustion all without anyone around. It’s a miracle you didn’t get more than a goose egg,” I tell him.
Based on his spotty recollection of wh
at happened, I’m surprised he was in good enough shape to call me after he came to. When I got there to pick him up, I didn’t have a key to get in, though I could see him lying there on the floor. I was well on my way toward panicking until I realized he had his phone out and was angling it toward his face.
His text came through a few seconds later, saying, “I’m going to have to let you in, but you’re going to have to give me a minute to get there.”
After seeing him basically crawl through that little window, I have no remorse keeping him bed-ridden. Well, there are a couple of exceptions. I don’t think either of us wants to have a bedpan enter into the relationship just yet.
“You know, when you said you didn’t want me doing anything, I didn’t think you actually meant it,” he says.
“The way you keep repeating that, I’m starting to think you might have conked your head a little harder than you thought you did,” I answer in my cheeriest nurse’s voice.
He groans again. “Just annoyed is all,” he says.
“Well, I’m going to be a nurse, and if I don’t sign off on your health, you’re not fighting,” I tell him.
I think I’m starting to appreciate the draw of having power over someone else. It hasn’t gotten to the point where I’m willing to abuse it or anything, but it is kind of fun teasing him like this.
“I know,” he says. “You’ve done a solid job blackmailing me.”
“Actually, I think it’s extortion,” I tell him. “Then again, I’m not sure there’s a difference.”
“They’re similar enough that it can be easy to get the two confused,” he says, “but where you’re threatening to call the cops to shut down the tournament, exposing not only me, but a lot of people I’ve grown to tolerate over the years makes it blackmail.”
“Between your knowledge of the law and my knowledge of medicine, maybe we should start working toward being one of those doctor/lawyer power couples,” I tell him.
“What, like your parents?” he asks.
“Don’t think that just because you’re in bed at my urging that I’m above smacking you around,” I answer. “And no: If my parents are a power couple, it’s only due to all the money they’ve tucked away over the years. Neither one of them is actually good at anything.”
“You don’t really like your parents very much, do you?” he asks.
I know what he’s doing. He’s uncomfortable being confined to his bed, so he’s going to try to make me uncomfortable by talking about my parents. He tried this yesterday. It didn’t work then, but maybe he thinks my resolve has weakened since then.
Fortunately, I know just how to get out of this.
“You know, maybe we should use this time talking about our families,” I tell him. “Neither one of us is going too far for a while: You’re supposed to stay in bed until further notice, and I don’t trust you to do that unless I’m right here.”
“Don’t you have school or something?” he asks.
I feel as much of the unbandaged portion of his forehead as possible to see if he’s spiked a fever.
“Summer break started last week,” I tell him. “You don’t remember?”
He looks up at me, saying, “They have summer classes, you know. Don’t you want to get your degree already? I mean, why wait?”
“Because I have to work during the summer,” I tell him.
“Then isn’t there a job you should be getting to or something?” he asks.
I pat his chest. “It can wait,” I tell him. “Right now, I think maybe it’s time for your sponge bath.”
“I don’t know what your obsession is with wanting to do that,” he says, “but I really don’t want to have that be what you’re thinking about when you see me naked.”