True Art

Chapter Twenty-one

MATTHEW'S POV

There was no way I was going to let the nurse put a catheter up inside where she was intent on placing it.

"I can use a bedpan," I argued.

"The doctor has requested it. You have to stay off your leg," the nurse said impatiently. There was a good chance she was going to beat me down if I didn't give in.

I sighed and watched the nurse leave, knowing she'd be back in an hour to repeat the same argument we'd already had three times now.

The prognosis was good. I'd be back to full health and mobility as long as I rested after my surgery to put a pin in place.

The surgery was scheduled for the next morning and then I'd be discharged the following day. I had two options. Go and stay with my friends again, but that wasn't really an option at all. The surgeon had assured me I'd be back on my feet within six weeks. Six weeks? There was no way I could crash on my friends' couch and expect them to help me for that long.

That left the second option, which was really my only option. I'd have to go stay with my parents. That was almost worse than the surgery. The idea of being trapped with my mother for that long was unbearable. She'd be faffing over me, giving me her best 'I told you, you should have done this,' and 'if only you had listened to me,' and she'd be onto her favourite rendition of 'Sure, well, you're back here now, you may as well stay. What's the point of going back to Dublin when you could live here and get a job at Darcy's pub?' It was the reason I'd accepted near homelessness rather than going back home to her.

But this was different. I was injured, and I'd be incapable of caring for myself. I needed to be looked after, and right now, my mother was the only option I had.

My phone flashed with an unread message. It was scratched from the fall and the corner of the screen had a nice big crack, but it still worked. I certainly couldn't have afforded to replace it.

My friends had been texting all day to check up on me. I should have been grateful, but instead, I was still waiting, hoping for a message or a call from Remi. I still didn't understand what had happened. Was he angry with me? Annoyed that I'd caused so much trouble? Or was it something else?

I was confused, desperate for an answer, and hurt that he had seemed to cut me off so easily. But of course, this was my fault. I'd jumped in the deep end, rushing into things like I always did, and I should have known better. Why would he want me? I had nothing, just credit card debt and now a messed-up knee.

No, I'd never suit someone like Remi. He'd want someone like him, powerful and wealthy and, ideally, not homeless. I was none of those things. Not even close.

I grabbed my phone and rang my mom, bracing myself for her barrage of questions.

"Hey mom, how are you?"

"Good, nice of you to call me. I was starting to think you'd cut me out of your life for your exciting city living."

"I had an accident. Don't panic, but I'm a little injured."

"Jesus. Jonathan, Matt was in a car accident! What happened, tell me everything."

"No, mom, it wasn't a car. I tripped on a hike and-"

"What? Yes, I'll tell him. Your father wants me to tell you that you should have got the private health insurance like we told you. See, this is what happens. You get injured, and then you're stuck on the public waiting list. Are you in the emergency department?"

I rolled my eyes, defeated already. "No, mom. I was brought to the hospital, seen immediately, and I'm scheduled for surgery on my knee tomorrow."

"Really?"