Page 2 of When We Fell Again
No shit.
I guess it served me right for going to a kid’s playground after a skinful of beer and whisky in the middle of the afternoon, then fucking about on the swings meant for much younger people than me. I’m only in A&E because my bandmates pressured me to get it checked out. We’re due to start something of a comeback tour in two weeks, and postponing it isnotan option. At least, that’s what the management said.
“It isn’t serious enough to warrant you going into theatre to have it put back into place, so one of the nurses here will do it,” she said. Her eyes met mine, pupils dilating. “We’ll sort you out with some pain relief or a sedative.”
My interest piqued at the mention of pain relief.“What happens after that? Can I go home?”
She nodded. “We’ll do another x-ray to check the shoulder joint is back in place, but you’ll need to wear a sling for a few days while the pain settles. You’ll need to take some time off work as well.”
“How long? I, um, have some commitments coming up.”
“What do you do?”
Trying not to take offence that she wasn’t a fan, I sucked in a breath. “Lead singer with Idol Rev. We’re going on tour.”
The consultant stifled a snort. “Sorry, Jordan. I don’t think that will be possible. You need to rest for at least two weeks before you can resume any kind of physical activity.”
“But you can give me something for pain relief, right? Like codeine or a shot? Just to get me through the gigs. I promise I’ll rest the entire remainder of the time.” I narrowed my eyes, mentally counting the days between now and when we were meant to leave.
Her mouth pursed. “That’s not a long-term fix.”
“It’s just something short-term, to get me through the tour, I promise. We can’t change the dates.” I sounded like I was begging, but for a whole heap of reasons, the tour couldn’t be called off. Particularly if I wanted to have a career afterwards.
“Your health is more important than a tour, surely?”
Yeah, if I hadn’t been a dick and got wasted only a few days before we’re due to leave.Turning my best pleading look on her, I gave it one more shot. “Don’t make me beg.”
There was a flicker of something in her gaze, and she looked away.Bingo. “Let me see what I can do. In the meantime, I’ll arrange for the nurse to sort out your shoulder manipulation.”
Ha. Manipulation. I was already pretty good at that if her reaction was anything to go by.
Once she’d gone, I leaned back against the pillows, trying to ignore the pain. I was desperate for something to get me through. Anything to take me off that hospital bed to another place. My mind chose that moment to kick in with a vengeance, reminding me of the last time I had been in hospital, and the consequences for others. My already cold body dropped in temperature by another degree as I screwed up my eyes to try and rid myself of the memory.
My phone jiggled in my pocket. Pulling it out with my good arm, I squinted at the message.
Levi: So what’s the latest? Do you need me to come and pick you up?
I tried not to laugh, feeling the vibrations of pain all over my body. Levi was as wasted as me. And if he hadn’t encouraged me to swing higher in the first place, I wouldn’t have fallen off and landed heavily on my shoulder. There was no way I’d let him get behind the wheel of a car.
Seriously, we were such a bad influence on each other.
It took me a while to type back a reply using only one hand.
Jordan: Dislocated shoulder. The doc reckons I can’t tour, but bollocks to that.
Levi: Shit. Sorry, man.
Levi Kennedy and I had been friends since the age of fourteen. We met at school and bonded over our love of hardcore punk and alternative rock music. Always the outsiders, we presented a united front to anyone who ever gave us shit. Twelve years of friendship, and I doubted it would ever change. He was the brother I never had, and we were closer than any family. Plus, his guitar skills were out of this world. Oh, andhisbrother, Jude, also played a mean set of drums. With the addition of Robbie Benson on bass, we were a pretty solid unit. No one got between us. Ever.
Levi: How long are you going to be? We’re wondering whether to get a takeaway.
My stomach rumbled. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate something. Did I have breakfast? Or lunch? Or anything other than alcohol? It was all a bit hazy.
Jordan: Dunno. Have to have the shoulder put back in, then another x-ray, so fuck knows how long all that will take.
All I wanted to do was go home. Preferably with a bag full of opiates.
Levi: Okay. Keep me posted, yeah?
