After the Fall

seventh floor.
    Fuck.
    At least I could walk. Well, sort of. Thanks to my broken hand, I could only use one crutch, but with some work, I could get around on my own. That wouldn’t have been the case if I’d taken them up on the wheelchair they’d offered me. That had been a brief conversation.
    “We could get you a wheel—”
    “Hell to the no.”
    “Nathan, you—”
    “ No .”
    So here I was, facing my apartment with a crutch under my arm, silently cursing evolution for not giving humans wings. Getting up those stairs on my own? Not a chance. Just . . . no. And the thought of needing someone to help me with something as simple as stairs made my skin crawl. There was nothing in the world I hated more than leaning on someone else, never mind doing it both figuratively and literally. Christ. I’d not only lost a summer with my horse, I’d lost my independence for a few months. Fuck my life.
    “This will be fun,” I said. “Two casts versus six flights of stairs.”
    “Six flights? Oh, Lord.” Cody shook his head, chuckling. “This is not your day, is it?”
    “Not even a little,” I grumbled.
    “I don’t suppose there’s an elevator.”
    “Nope.” Indeed there wasn’t. Not in this older-than-the-hills building. Why did I live in an apartment with no mechanical means of getting up to my front door? Because Nathan-from-the-past had thought walking up and down the stairs every day with no easy escape via an elevator would be good exercise and keep him from getting out of shape when he slacked off on going to the gym.
    Hey, Nathan-from-the-past? Nathan-of-the-present and Nathan-of-the-next-three-months both think you’re a dick.
    I suppose if I take it really slowly, I could get to the top on my own.
    “Well,” Cody said, “let me help you to the top for now.”
    I was too tired and in too much pain to be stubborn, so I didn’t argue.
    Even with his help, the climb was hell. Every movement jarred my leg, and three separate times, I instinctively reached for the railing when I lost my balance, and each time, smacked that cast and sent fresh pain vibrating through my hand. The broken bones weren’t the only things hurting, either; at least a dozen bruises had already formed on my hip, my elbow, and my upper thigh, and I was pretty sure the stirrup had bitten pretty hard into my ankle. Good thing I’d taken my foot out of it, though. Getting dragged behind Tsarina would have made this day so much better.
    Finally, Cody and I made it to the top. I leaned against the wall to catch my breath.
    “You okay?” he asked.
    I nodded. “Yeah. Just need a second.”
    “Take your time.”
    When I’d recovered a little, I leaned on my crutch and hobbled toward my door.
    “You got your keys?” Cody asked.
    Reaching into my right pocket with my left hand while leaning on a crutch probably wasn’t the most dignified thing I’d ever done, but I managed to get my keys out.
    Right then, though, the door opened. Naturally.
    Brad, my roommate, stared at me. His platinum blond hair was wet and unruly, so he must have just gotten out of the shower. “Dear God. What did you do ?”
    Cody chuckled and patted my arm. “I’ll let you tell him the story. Let’s get you in and situated.”
    “Thank you,” I muttered.
    Brad and Cody helped me into the apartment and onto the couch. I tried not to curse at either of them while they arranged my leg on top of a stack of pillows. Easier said than done, of course. Who knew something like a broken bone would hurt so goddamned much?
    Then Cody handed off the care and feeding instructions from the ER to Brad. “Make sure he keeps that leg elevated whenever he’s sitting, and make him move around once in a while.”
    Brad saluted with two fingers and set the ER instructions on the coffee table.
    Cody clapped my shoulder gently. “Take it easy, kid.”
    “Thanks. And thanks for the lift home and everything.”
    “Anytime. You need a thing, you give me a call, you hear?”
    I nodded.
    Brad showed Cody out. Then he came back into the living room, and I cringed at the thought of how pathetic I was.
    “You need anything?” he asked. “Drugs? Ice? Two-by-four to the head?”
    I laughed. “That last one sounds pretty appealing.”
    “I’m sure.”
    “I’m good, though. Thanks.”
    “No problem.” He grabbed a beer from the kitchen, and then sat on the recliner beside the couch, eyeing my leg. “So what in the world happened?” Before I could answer, he