Miguel snorted like he didn’t believe him. Hector didn’t have a chance to set his mind at ease as the door re-opened and the doctor walked in carrying X-ray films. She was an older, dark-skinned African American woman with a friendly smile. She slid the X-rays onto the screen before pulling a rolling stool up to the exam table. Hector watched as she examined Miguel with quick, gentle hands.
“The good news is your ankle isn’t broken,” she said as she probed the injured area. She leaned to the side to point at Miguel’s illuminated X-rays. “The bad news is you’ve got a pretty nasty sprain. You’re going to be in an air cast for about a week.”
Miguel slumped back against the paper-covered pillow. “I’m supposed to start a new job in a week.”
“What type of work is it?”
“Dental assistant.”
“You should be fine for that. Over the next few days, keep it elevated and iced, and try to stay off it as much as possible. Keep the air cast on whenever you’re on your feet. And go see your general practitioner to get it examined and obtain a work release.” She wrote on the clipboard. “That’s going to throb pretty good for a few days, so I’m writing you a small prescription for pain medication. Any questions?”
Miguel shook his head, while Hector thanked the doctor. She left, off to take care of whatever was next on her list. The nurse came back in, carrying the boot the doctor had mentioned as well as a pair of crutches. After showing Miguel how to put the boot on, she helped him back into the wheelchair. Hector followed, carrying Miguel’s discarded shoe and the crutches she’d brought, as she wheeled Miguel from the room to get checked out. The lady behind the billing desk gave them a tired but professional smile.
“How did you want to pay today?”
“Oh, ummm, I don’t have insurance.”
“We have payment plans,” she said as she pulled out a booklet and spread it open on the counter in front of Miguel.
Hector spoke up. “That’s not necessary. I’ll pay.” He pulled his credit card out and handed it over.
Miguel looked up at him with a frown on his forehead. “I can do the payment plan,” he quietly said.
Hector shrugged. “If you’re going to do a payment plan, just pay me instead of the hospital.” Of course, he didn’t have any intention of allowing Miguel to pay him back for this, but it wasn’t necessary to mention that right now.
After a moment, Miguel nodded, looking defeated. Hector figured it was because he was tired and in pain. Hector signed the charge slip and tucked his copy of the receipt away in the folder of paperwork they’d given Miguel. Then he grabbed the crutches leaning against the wall. “Ready to try these out?”
Miguel eyed them with distrust. “I guess.”
Hector helped him out of the chair, making sure he was steady before handing him the crutches one at a time. He pushed the wheelchair out of the way, then slowly walked next to Miguel as he began a halting swing forward.
“I think you’ve got it,” Hector said once they reached the doors. “Are you okay to stay here while I go get the truck?”
Miguel nodded, the forlorn look still on his face.
“Hey. Don’t stress. You’ll be healed up in no time.” He chucked Miguel under the chin then went to get the truck.
At home, Miguel crutched over to the couch. He dropped down to sit, then cursed as he jostled his ankle.
Hector hurriedly tossed his keys on the entry table and went over to his friend. “What the hell are you doing?”
Miguel looked up at him in confusion. “Uh, going to sleep?”
“Funny.” He squatted and scooped Miguel up in his arms again. Now that Miguel was safe and only had a simple sprain, Hector became aware of just how much he liked having Miguel’s warm weight cradled against him. He didn’t mention that of course, staying silent as he carried his friend into the bedroom. Miguel leaned his head on Hector’s shoulder, his hair brushing Hector’s chin. A shiver raced down Hector’s spine at the soft, unintentional caress. Without meaning to, he briefly tightened his hold, essentially squeezing Miguel in a quick hug.
A small gasp came from Miguel, but Hector didn’t acknowledge it. Just like he didn’t acknowledge the thrum of arousal in his blood. What would he see if he looked down? Was Miguel watching him? Maybe with the same confused yet aroused look on his face that he’d had during their fateful movie night?
In his head, Hector chanted fuck again. Out loud, he reassured Miguel. “You’re not sleeping on the couch with that ankle. Don’t even think about arguing with me on this.” He gently placed Miguel in the center of his bed. He took a few of the extra pillows and put them underneath his ankle, elevating it as the doctor had ordered. Then he took the air cast off, the Velcro loud as the straps pulled apart. Hector set the boot on the floor next to the bed so Miguel could easily reach it.
“Get undressed while I go and get you an ice pack and your pain pills.” He started from the room, but turned back when Miguel called his name. “Yeah?”
“I have to pee.”
Hector stood there for a moment, then laughed. “I should have thought of that.” He went out to the living room and grabbed the crutches. “Do you want to put the boot back on or do you think you can manage to do this on one foot?” he asked when he returned.
“I can manage on one foot.”
He watched to make sure Miguel was steady on his crutches then left the room to get the pills and make an ice pack. Eyeing the instructions on the bottle, he noted that they said to take with food. He was willing to bet Miguel hadn’t had anything to eat at the Gator Pit, so he got a sleeve of crackers from the pantry. By the time he made it back to the bedroom with everything, Miguel was already lowering himself to the bed.