Dear Maria

Chapter 5 - Breakfast

My mom is pretty great. A lot more understanding than you'd think, she's always supported me. I haven't exactly made it easy for her, but she never gave up not once. That's why I was comfortable, knowing Alex was in her care. I knew she wouldn't make judgements of him, because he was my friend. He'd get the best of care with her, just like I always have.

Alex wasn't exactly rushed to hospital, more so drove at a leisurely pace. I sat in the back seat with him, keeping the ice gingerly placed on his hand. It made me wonder how hard he'd actually punched the guy, but I found out his hand hit the ground pretty hard when he was thrown down, so I guess that explains things. I swear since he was told it was broken all he did was complain. He sat with his head being propped up against his good hand, which was leaning on the edge of the inside of the door. I was sat on the other side, the armrest down in the middle, so I could put the ice on the hand.

When we got to the hospital, he was put into a cubicle. I say cubicle, it's a wing of the hospital with a row of beds, each with a curtain around it. He hopped onto the bed, in reasonably good spirits and I took a seat on the all too familiar plastic-y chairs. It wasn't long before he was carted off to x-rays. I stayed put, biting my fingernails subconsciously. Hopefully, for his sake, they were only fractures. I'd never broken a bone before, but Josh had, and I remember the pain he was in, breaking his wrist. He had to stop drumming for months, it killed him practically. I was snapped back out of my daydream, or nightdream, by Alex returning, clinging onto his hand protectively.

We awaited patiently for my mum to return, or just any doctor, but sure enough my mum did return clutching four x-ray photographs. 'Okay so we know now that three bones in your hand are damaged, two fractured and one completely broken. We'll plaster you up straight away'. He thanked my mum great fully, before lying down on the bed, eyes shutting softly. 'Y-you should rest, it's 10:30 and you're probably pretty tired out'. All he managed to spit out was 'nah, m'good jus' need a lil' lie down is all'. He sounded like a toddler, which in turn made me giggle just a bit. He'd had a lot of gas and air, bargaining with the nurse who'd brought it, to let him keep it until someone else 'urgently needs it more than I do'. He'd only been lying down for a matter of thirty seconds before my mum returned, asking us to follow to the fracture clinic.

After suffering through forty minutes of dispute with the doctors and nurses, Alex had his hand neatly covered in a yellow plaster cast, almost up to his elbow but not quite. He grumbled and moaned a lot, at how 'why did they have to put glitter over it too' and 'couldn't they just wrap a bit of bandage around, plaster casts are cold and itchy'. At first I found his ramblings funny, laughing shyly each time, however I grew bored of it after a while, I was tired and honestly I just wanted to go home. I hated hospitals they only ever brought back bad reminders for me. My mum offered to pay for a taxi to our house, telling Alex to stay in one of our spare rooms for the night, so she could keep him under observation tomorrow and give him his meds, other than this nights supply, but 'only if his parents were okay with it, and feel to phone them'. He thanked her again, assuring his parents would be fine, and we got into the taxi together, heading back to my home.

'Shouldn't you at least call your mom, maybe just to tell her you've been in hospital?'
'Maybe tomorrow, I can't be bothered for her whining'.
I sighed exasperated; I'd spent the entire journey arguing with Alex over him calling home. It was only fair his parents knew, I'd want my parents to know if I'd broken my hand. I guess my mom would technically know anyway, but that's besides my point. By the time I'd unlocked my front door, Alex seemed to be in a better state, lighting up another cigarette. I semi-automatically breathed in his smoke, the feeling immediately taking home in my lungs, despite it only being the second time I had inhaled it. I settled for watching him smoke again, lying flat out on our sofas. 'Maria? My hand hurts, like real bad'. I grabbed the bottle containing the four pills he needed to have tonight, handing them him and getting up to grab a glass of water.