Today the doctors unwrapped his head. They'd probably done it on other days while he wasn't aware of it, or at least the nurses might have done it to change his dressings and prevent infection at the site of the wound, but this was moment of truth time. They wanted to send him home soon, they said, and the state of his stitch site would inform them how close he was to leaving.

"Remarkable," the first one said as the other made notes. "You can barely tell there was ever an injury aside from the hair stubble. These stitches are ready to come out."

"Would you say I've been healing faster than normal, doctor?" He could never remember the doctors' names, so he just went with their title.

"Everyone has their own speed," he replied. "You're in good health, so your recovery has been speedier than some."

How to ask what he wanted to ask without sounding like a conspiracy theorist? "When you've been doing tests on me, like the MRI, the blood tests and so on, have you ever discovered anything... concerning?"

"Concerning? How so?" the second doctor asked as he opened the chart at the foot of his bed and had a look through it.

"I mean, did you find anything you wouldn't have expected to find?"

"Like what?"

"Like... I don't know... metal?"

The second doctor's brow furrowed, and he looked at the first, who shrugged. "You never had any symptoms of heavy metal poisoning. You were in a car accident."

"I know. So, the level of metal in my blood is normal?"

"Well, if you're talking about iron, it's in every molecule of hemoglobin. You couldn't live without it, because it's what's responsible for the capture of oxygen from your lungs and for that oxygen's release to the cells throughout your body." He scanned the chart a little further and said, "I mean, your iron levels are a little higher than normal, but that's not concerning. Do you eat a lot of red meat?"

Al shrugged. "No more than the next guy, I guess. I don't eat steak every day, but beef ends up in a lot of the dishes I make, even if it's just a pasta sauce."

"Do you eat broccoli, pumpkin seeds?"

"Broccoli, about as much as the average person. I don't eat pumpkin seeds."

"Do you donate a lot of blood?"

"I try to donate when there's a clinic near me."

"They probably love you. I bet you're a good clotter, too. Your healing has been free of complications. The only thing I might recommend is lowering the amount of iron rich foods you eat if you suffer from constipation."

"Actually, I'm pretty regular. So, the other metals, they're okay, too?"

The first doctor read the chart too and nodded. "Sodium, potassium, magnesium, copper, nickel and zinc levels are all within the acceptable range. What's this about, Al?"

He hadn't even considered that sodium, potassium and magnesium were metals. "Sorry," he said. "I guess I'm just worried something happened to me after the accident that might have affected my quality of life in the future."

"The injury to your head was what nearly killed you, Al," the second doctor said. "You've almost completely recovered from that, and very soon we can send you home to finish your recovery. I'd take that as a win."

Al knew there was no way he could keep interrogating them without appearing like a lunatic. "You're right. I will. Thank you, doctors."

They completed their examination of him, repeating the process they went through before. The first doctor then removed the stitches, which made Al feel like a turkey being de-trussed for Thanksgiving dinner. It felt nice not having that feeling of pressure at the site anymore, though, and nice not to itch so bad that he often had to rub the site through his gauze just to relieve it. 

Once they were gone, Carl came by for another session. This time, Al followed behind him with the walker to a room where he was asked to try walking on his own, between parallel bars he could grab if he felt unsteady. He'd seen this scene in countless TV shows, the hero battling back from disability with a grimace on his face, but for him it wasn't so dramatic. He went a whole five steps at a time without having to grab the bars. Carl made him do it over and over again, and from time to time made him stop and stand still without grabbing the bars. He explained, "Just standing straight and still without aid is a monumental feat of balance and strength, something we take for granted when we're well. You're getting stronger, but it will take some time before you're getting around without the walker, and then you'll graduate to a walking stick."

After about an hour of physical therapy, Carl walked him back to his room at the ICU, where he was surprised to see he had a visitor. "Agnes!" he said, unable to suppress a smile.

When she saw him, she gasped. "You're walking!"

"That's right, you didn't see me walk, last time."

"And your bandage is off!"

"Yeah, they just took out the stitches today. Do I look like Frankenstein's monster?"

She shook her head, and to Al's surprise her face crumpled, and she strode forward and wrapped her arms around him. Carl cleared his throat and excused himself.

It was an awkward hug, but he let go of the walker and did his best to return it, hoping she'd be able to hold him up if he lost his strength. He heard her sniffing and said, "Hey, what's wrong, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she squeaked. "It's just so nice that I can give you a hug, now. You've been in bed every time I've visited."

"Oh, honey," he said, then kicked himself for his stupid mouth. He often called her honey when they were together. It must have been the feel of her in his arms, the muscle memory it sparked, that reset his head to the late Nineties. She was his everything, once, and she felt just as good now as she did then, so he might have held her longer than was decent for a man married to another woman. Of course, he'd left decency in the rear view mirror years ago when he welcomed Lauren into his bed, at Rachel's invitation, yes, but a couple of times without. What was one hug for an old friend and former flame?

"Thank you," she said. "I really needed this."

"Are you okay? Really?"

She wiped her eyes and looked up at him. "Yeah. I officially filed divorce papers today, and gave a lawyer testimony that could be used against Patrick."

"Oh. Wow. This is going ahead, then."

"Yeah." She looked deep into his eyes and said, "I'm going to be a free woman, soon."

Oh, fuck. He needed to deflect, because he knew what she was implying, and he didn't want to break her heart. "This other lawyer," he said, "was his name Mandeep Randhawa?"

She blinked in surprise. "That's right. How did you know?"

"He got me out of jail, once."

She gasped. "You were in jail? Why?"

"Speeding and fleeing the police."

Her mouth dropped open. "What the fuck? Why did you do that?"

"I was racing to help Lauren. She was doing a stakeout over in Aldergrove, and a man she was watching had something of hers, and she'd confronted him. I didn't know at the time that she had the situation in hand, that I didn't need to hurry so recklessly, but my little stunt actually had the effect of drawing the police right to where Lauren was struggling with the guy, and by arresting the guy they actually broke open a case we were working on."

"We?" she asked, frowning. "You're not police, or even a P.I. like Lauren. You're a cataloguer."

Al chuckled. "I know. This particular case actually involved me and my friends, that's why I said we."

She still looked unconvinced, and now Al's leg's were feeling shaky. "I think I better go back to my bed," he said. Regretfully, he let her go and grabbed his walker. She opened the door for him, and he went in and settled himself down, not as careful to cover himself, since she'd known his body intimately, but maybe he should have been, because she was eyeing him with an interest he remembered from their time together.

"Lauren," she said. "What is she to you?"

Al frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I know Rachel is your wife, now, but I couldn't help noticing the rapport the three of you have. When Rachel and Lauren brought me to your new townhouse, I asked them about that kiss I saw, and they admitted they were lovers."

"They did." It wasn't a question. Al was just flabbergasted that they'd told her.

"They also said you and Joe know about it and are okay with it."

Al sighed and said, "Yeah. We are. You have to know Lauren and Rachel. When we were kids, they were very close. It went beyond friendship. They'd even been each other's first sexual experience at thirteen."

Agnes blinked in surprise. "Oh. I see. And this happened while you were having your crush on Rachel?"

Al chuckled and said, "Yeah, but I didn't know about it until Rachel told me when we reunited thirty years later."

She nodded uncertainly. "Still, this doesn't explain the electricity between the three of you."

Al shrugged. "Lauren's a good friend. We're all good friends. Reuniting was the happiest time in my life." He saw her face fall and corrected himself. "I mean, I was very happy when I was with you, too--"

"Have you had sex with Lauren?" she asked in a near whisper, as if she didn't really want to know the answer.

Al opened and closed his mouth, unable to answer.

"You have, haven't you," she said in disbelief.

"Agnes..." he began.

"Does Rachel know?"

"Yeah," he said. "Rachel was with us when it happened. We were all together."

Agnes blushed and looked down. Al felt terrible. Agnes might have wanted to get out from under the thumb of her conservative parents, but he knew she was still conventional when it came to relationships. She wouldn't be able to understand this. Maybe that was for the best. If he tarnished his own image in her eyes, maybe she wouldn't try to get back together with him. 

"Does her husband know?" she asked.

He sighed and nodded. "It nearly destroyed their marriage. They're better, now, but I'm not sure they'll ever get back to how they were before." 

"So, you're no better than Patrick," she said tightly.

Al raised his hands in surrender. "I don't expect you to understand. If you think less of me now, I won't blame you."

She looked dazed, and when Al patted a space on the bed next to him, she sat.

"What would you like me to tell you?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said.

"I'm fallible. I don't dispute that."

She nodded, still looking numb. "Maybe in my mind you were frozen in 1999, that lovely boy I hoped to marry one day."

It wouldn't do, now, to tell her he'd been in his thirties when she left, hardly a boy; nor would it do to tell her he'd been planning on proposing before she dropped the bombshell of the move to the Okanagan. "Maybe you hoped I'd be ready to welcome you back with open arms, continue where we'd left off?"

"Ha. I don't know," she said sullenly.

"I never forgot you, if that makes a difference."

"Me neither."

"Maybe if you returned before 2009..."

"Don't say that. Please don't say that," she said tearfully. "I can't bear the what ifs."

"Sorry." He put an arm around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I don't blame you for moving on," she said. "I did too."

"It wasn't right away. It wasn't until I reunited with Rachel."

"Then I guess I moved on first."

"It's okay." He sighed in resignation and said, "I'd like to meet your kids some time."

She sniffled and wiped her nose. "Yeah, yours too."

"Even if we can't be together, I don't want to lose you again."

She shrugged. "I'll be here, I guess. There's nothing left for me back in the Okanagan. I'm working at VPL, now, so we can always meet for lunch when you're back at work, that is, if Rachel's okay with it."

He chuckled. "Yes, we don't want to keep anything from her."

"She's been wonderful to me, letting me use your place, when she should have rightly been cold and suspicious."

"Oh, she's suspicious, all right, but she's all heat."

Now she chuckled. "Careful. You don't want to disparage your wife in front of your ex-girlfriend."

"It's actually one of the things I love most about her."

He knew he said the wrong thing when he saw the look on her face. He squeezed her tighter and said, "Seeing your face, the first face I saw when I woke up, well, after my cat, it was..."

"I know. I'm sorry. It should have been your wife's face you saw. We weren't ready for it to work so fast, and she was looking away for a moment, talking to your mom. I feel like I stole her moment."

"No, I mean, I'm sure she doesn't hold that against you. What I mean to say is, I'm sorry I freaked out. It wasn't that I didn't want to see you--"

"I know. You thought you were still in the coma."

"I just couldn't believe you were there, in the present, with me. I mean, first I didn't know where there was, or when it was; I was quite disoriented."

"Of course. That's completely understandable."

"But once I got my bearings and realized everyone was there at the hospital, that I'd woken from a coma and you were all there to see me, and once I could get a handle on my feelings, I realized that my disorientation at seeing you wasn't just that I thought I was still in the past; it was seeing your face and knowing I still felt the same for you as I did all those years ago."

"Oh," she breathed, and soon she was sobbing into his shoulder. 

"Oh, honey," he said, stroking her hair. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--"

"I still love you," she blubbered. "I knew as soon as I saw you that first night in the hospital bed."

"I love you, too," he said. "But."

She nodded. "I know.  But."

"I'm so sorry. Until they legalize plural marriage in this country--"

"Ugh," she said, and chuckled. "Sorry, but I'm not sharing you with your wife, or Lauren, for that matter."

He chuckled too. "Sorry. That was in bad taste. Can we just love each other as good friends?"

She sniffled and nodded. "Yeah."

"And I'll be there for you whenever you need me, and try to be happy for you when you find someone new, because you will, I just know it, you're just too darned lovable."

She laugh-cried and said, "We'll see. I still have to get through this divorce and then get my life together."

"Stay at our place as long as you need. You and your kids."

She gasped. "Oh, that reminds me." She looked at her watch. "I'm visiting Rachel at her office to pick up the keys. I should get going."

"Okay."

She stood, made like she was about to go, and then leaned in. For a moment, he thought she would kiss him on the forehead like she did last time. 

Her lips found his before he knew what she was doing, and that old muscle memory came back, and he was kissing her back. One of her hands gripped his hair as her tongue snaked into his mouth, but it was at the site of his just-removed stitches, and he couldn't help flinching in pain. The effect was akin to tossing a bucket of cold water on the both of them, and she broke away quickly. "Oh, sorry," she said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said, still panting, both from the pain and from the need for air after that kiss. 

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay," he said. "Just don't tell Rachel about it when you pick up the keys."

"I won't," she said, chuckling. "I think I'd better not be alone in a room with you anymore."

"I guess not if we're going to remain just good friends." 

She smiled a little too triumphantly, though, and blew him a kiss before leaving. Al stared after her, wondering how healthy his marriage, already fraying at the edges because of Lauren, was going to remain with Agnes back in town.

Thanks for reading this far! If you liked what you read so far, hit "Vote" to send this title up the ranks. If anything doesn't ring true about medical procedures, leave a comment and let me know; I strive for authenticity.

To see how Lauren brings up Tej's offer to Joe, click on "Continue reading."