Yes Please || c.g. {complete}

The Only Thing

40

.Layla.

I had never been more excited to ride public transit.

Carl and I were on our way to my follow-up appointment the following afternoon. It had now been a week and a half since I messed my leg up, and I was going insane in my apartment.   I had seen pretty much every '70s game show, and was familiar with their old school slang, like 'making whoopee' (which Carl and I did quite often). I knew which season of Law & Order: SVU was playing based on Olivia Benson's hairstyle. I had ordered a small appliance off an infomercial. I needed to be stopped.

I was hoping I would be cleared to head back to school after Labor Day weekend. I needed to have my life back again and stop relying on Carl and Debbie for everything.

"Ready?" Carl asked as our stop approached.

I nodded and he helped me stand up so I could put my right arm over his shoulders for support. We slowly made our way to the doors as the L pulled up to the next stop.

We made our way down to the street and took a cab the last half mile or so to the hospital.

Finally, we arrived in the waiting room, and I practically collapsed into a chair as Carl went to let the receptionist know we were there.

About twenty minutes later, the nurse called me back. The doctor looked me over and seemed really pleased with how my leg was healing.

"Would it be possible for me to return to school this upcoming Tuesday after the long weekend?" I asked hopefully.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Carl tense up.

The doctor leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms as he considered it. "How far is the commute?" he asked.

My face fell. "About an hour."

He nodded. "Public transit?"

I nodded. Fuck.

"Alone?"

"Yes," I sighed. Strike three.

Carl had nodded vehemently at all the questions. I wanted to smack him.

The doctor sighed. "I would be more comfortable with you waiting another week or two until I can check on your progress one more time."

I could feel frustrated tears prickling the corners of my eyes.

"I will be happy to give you a letter explaining my reasoning that you can submit to your university," he said. "I'm sorry, Layla. It's just not realistic to expect that you're ready for two hours of commuting everyday, going up and down stairs and walking considerable amounts."

I swiped at the stubborn tear that escaped. I hated that he made sense. I wouldn't even look at Carl, who I was sure was over the moon about knowing he could keep me safe from creeps of Chicago for another couple of weeks.

Instead, I felt him wrap his arms around me. "I'm sorry, baby," he whispered.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," the doctor said sympathetically. "I hope you understand it's because I'm looking out for you and your health."

I nodded, swiping at another tear.

"You're still taking the antibiotics, correct?" he asked, looking again at his chart.

I nodded, zoning out as he droned on about side effects or some shit. I felt so defeated.

Hardly any words were exchanged on the way home. Carl just held me while I let the occasional tear slip down my cheek.