In with the New Baby

“Remember!” she yelled out of fuckin’ nowhere. “The eleventh commandment. M-Y-O-B! Mind your own business.”

All the other kids shuddered, but in my own little wimpish way (believe me, I was a little thing who was lucky he didn’t get run over every time he crossed the street – that’s why I eventually started bulking up in the gym and then joined the military and became a fighter on the side), I thought to myself, that is good advice.

And the lesson of Sister Francis Bernadette has stuck with me since.

She would not recognize me now, I’m sure, but, then again, we all change. I just happened to go from dorky skinny kid to big tough guy, which is more of a drastic turn-around than most.

I stand in line at one of the registers at Walmart, and this little kid in front of me turns and points to his dinosaur toy.

“This is Rex,” he says. “You know, from the movie?”

I say nothing and shake my head.

“He means Tyrannosaurus Rex from Jurassic World,” his mother says.

She smiles at me but I’m in no mood to flirt. For some reason, single moms always think I’m their type. I guess it’s something about how my big arms could rock their kids to sleep and then throw the mom over my shoulder and carry her into our own bedroom for a different kind of rocking.

I’ve had my share of them who wanted me and I’ve taken advantage of some of the opportunities but I don’t want any of it today. I still can’t get that physical therapist, Amanda, off my mind, and I still feel bad for what I did when I was at her office.

Still, I don’t want to be rude.

“Cool,” I say to the little kid.

The cashier rings me up and bags my stuff, and as I leave the store, I can see the dog in the passenger window of the cab of my truck, wagging his tail and panting. He’s only half under the blanket, and he doesn’t seem cold. So any nosy busybodies can just keep walking right by, thank you very much.

“Oh, Rex,” I say.

And that’s it. My new buddy.

And his name is Rex.

I hear it through the grapevine that Anne talked to Damien about me, and I don’t appreciate it.

As Sr. Francis said, M-Y-O-B, mind your own business!

I know they mean well and are trying to figure out the best treatment for me. But I’m still pretty mad.

I go to the gym because I need a good, hard workout to try to clear my head. I start with the treadmill because, despite everything, I’m pissed off at Damien, and he’s on the other side of the gym. Being over here on my own gives me the chance to pound away my problems on the machine.

He looks up and over at me and I look down. I increase the speed of the treadmill until I’m running at a really fast clip.

He saunters over, acting like Mr. Tough Guy, and I ignore him.

“Hey,” he says.

I say nothing and just look at the wide-screen televisions that are playing a football game.

“Anne is worried about you, you know.”

I still say nothing. I’m running too fast; my knee aches. It’s killing me.

“Anne feels like you’re in a bad way,” Damien says, and wipes his face with his towel. “I’m just going to come out and say it so we can clear the air. I know you’re avoiding me.”

Fuck him, I think to myself. Suddenly I feel a pop in my knee. I fall on the belt of the treadmill and then I slam against the cinderblock wall behind me.

“Fuck!” I say and grab my knee.

I’m panting heavily. My knee is so fucked up. I can’t do this anymore. My face grimaces from the pain, sadness, and frustration.

Damien comes over and helps me up. Some of the other gym attendants help me over to the chairs at the side.

They help me sit down. I grab onto my knee and look up at Damien. He puts his arm around my shoulders.

“I can’t go on like this,” I say.

“I know, bud,” Damien says. “Let me help you.”

I lean back in the chair while Damien pulls his Jeep up to the front door. Some of the other people at the gym help me in and Damien drives me back to my apartment. Then he helps me in by himself, which is no small feat.

“Thanks,” I manage to grunt.

I was silent the whole way here, because of the pain and also because of the embarrassment.

I fall onto the couch, breathing heavily.

Damien props my leg up onto the couch and takes my workout shoes off.

I feel heavy and tired.

When I awake, Damien is on the phone in the kitchen and he’s talking loudly. I can hear him pacing back and forth.

I don’t give a shit. I shut my eyes.