hulk. "God damn it, Zack! I keep telling you to stop
punching people. Do I have to call the cops?"
"Fuck off, Ike. That guy was hitting on Nora."
He turned back to O.E. "Don't let me see you around
here again, fuckwad, or else I might have to kill you." He
narrowed his eyes and gave O.E. the once-over. "Now since
your legs are still working, I suggest you use them." He
roared at O.E., "Get out!"
I'm going, I'm going. O.E. didn't have to be told twice.
He stumbled through the nightclub, tasting blood. He
made it to his car and collapsed into the driver's seat,
twisting the rear view mirror to examine himself. His jaw
looked bruised, darkness had spread over one side. But this
was much more than a bruise-he could feel a stabbing
pain whenever he tried to open his mouth.
Shit. Shit. Shit. He wanted to shout it out, but speech
was impossible right now. Instead, he drove himself to the
hospital.
By the time he got there, his eyes were watering from
pain. He had to pantomime getting punched in the jaw in
order to explain his situation to the nurse.
She looked up at him in his party clothes and exhaled.
"Have a seat and fill out this form." She handed him a
clipboard.
It took an hour before they called him into an
examination room, and by then his whole head was
throbbing. The E.R. doctor, a young woman, smiled at him.
"Good evening, Mr. Orton. I see you got into a fight."
O.E. grunted, his only means of communication at the
moment.
After a short examination, some much appreciated pain
medication, and a long wait for X-rays, the doctor made her
diagnosis. "First the good news: your jaw suffered a minor
fracture and should heal in two weeks. Now the bad news:
we're going to have to wire it shut during that time. I'm
going to check you into a room for the night, and we'll have
a surgeon take care of it in the morning. Is there someone
you'd like to contact?"
O.E. moaned and let his head drop. He shook it back
and forth to tell her, thanks but no thanks. He was on his
own. This night was turning into a colossal failure.
Tuesday, September 18
The next afternoon, after uncomfortable surgery, O.E.
sat in a hospital bed with his jaw wired shut. The pain
killers were doing their work, and his head felt like it was
securely wrapped, ready for shipment. All he had to do was
write Rebecca's address on his forehead and throw himself