Edward Adrift

idea. It doesn’t matter.
    Total miles driven: We’re missing a chunk, including how far he and Kyle went Thursday while they were out looking at oil pumps, but let’s just say, roughly, 1,838.7. That includes the 93.8 we know about from Thursday, plus another 20. It’s close enough.
    Gas usage for Friday, December 16, 2011: None. I’m with Kyle here. Who cares?
    Addendum: I guess I get to decide what goes here.
    Look, it’s hard to see Edward hurting like this. I don’t know him very well, but I’ve come to care about him, and I hate that I can’t help him more.
    Over the past day or so, I’ve been thinking about bad things and why they happen. When I was trying to catch up to Edward on that horrible night, I drove right past where my mommy and daddy died, and I didn’t even think about it. That’s the first time. I was fixated on someone else. That’s the first time, too.
    Very strange.
    Edward is a gentle and good man, and yes, he’s peculiar, but I’m peculiar, too. I think that’s why we’re friends.
    Yesterday was a hard day. Today will be hard, too. I guess all we can hope for is that it’s less hard.
    Often, hope is all you have.
    Unfortunately, Edward doesn’t like to put his effort into hope. He’s going to need to now.
    I feel better today than I did yesterday, although it still hurts like a motherfucker when Sally and Sheila Renfro pull me to my feet for my first walk around the hallways. Sally tells me that three trips around the hallways yesterday was a good number but that she wants to see at least five today. I tell her I will do my best. She also says the catheter is coming out today and I’ll have to get up to go pee from now on. Based on recent history since I went on my diabetic medicine, that means I’ll be out of bed repeatedly today—and that, of course, means that Sheila Renfro and a nurse will be pulling me to my feet.
    This sucks.
    When Sheila Renfro and I get back to the room after the first set of laps, Dr. Ira Banning is waiting for us.
    “Good news, Edward,” he says. “I think you can go home tomorrow.”
    “Really?”
    “Yep, you bet. The scans look good. You’ll need to be careful for a while—with those ribs, for sure, but especially with your head. No boxing matches or football games, OK? I want your word.”
    I think Dr. Banning is having some fun with me.
    “I promise. Can I still watch the Dallas Cowboys, if I promise not to play?” I’m having fun with Dr. Banning now.
    “Hey, Edward, I can’t stop you, buddy. Wouldn’t you rather watch Tim Tebow?”
    Everybody in this town is brainwashed about Tim Tebow. I laugh, and laughing hurts. So I stop laughing and let myself fall into the chair that Sheila Renfro slept in. Sally told me she wantsme to spend some time out of bed today, that the only way my ribs are going to heal is if I make them do what they’re designed to do.
    I wait till my breath slows down. “That’s a good one, Dr. Banning.”
    He looks at me funny. “Tim Tebow is a big deal around here.”
    So I’ve heard.
    I’m pretty funny sometimes.

    “Do you remember what I said yesterday about coming back to the motel with me?” Sheila Renfro asks.
    I’m dipping baked, breaded chicken chunks into low-fat ranch dressing and eating them. My appetite has returned. Dr. Banning says that I’m going to be amazed at how quickly I start feeling better now, and for the first time I’m inclined to believe him. Still, it’s barely past noon, and I’ve already been up four times to pee, each one an exercise in extreme pain as Sheila Renfro and the nurses pulled on my arms to get me on my feet. So despite my obvious improvement from yesterday and Dr. Banning’s proclamations (I love the word “proclamations”) of imminent health, I’m not ready to say that it’s going to be smooth sailing from here, to use a well-known idiom.
    “Yes, I remember,” I say.
    “Have you thought about it some more?”
    “Since you brought it up yesterday?”
    “Yes.”
    “No, I haven’t.”
    “Oh.”
    “What’s there to think about? I’m going.”
    “Oh!”
    She smiles at me, and I don’t take it for granted. I remember when I first met Sheila Renfro and I wanted to see her smile and she hid it from me. She’s not hiding it anymore, and I’m glad. It’s a friendly smile. She has her hair drawn into a blonde ponytail, which makes her face look sleek and pretty. I don’t see any makeup on Sheila Renfro, but I’m not sure anyone could tell