After Henry killed all chances of Saturday Night Intimacy when he murdered my foot with a bowling ball, we left Chooch with his Aunt Kelly and went to visit Henry’s mom Judy, who has been in the hospital since Thursday morning, recovering from a liver surgery. (She is OK, but has to stay in the hospital for a week, which sucks!)
As soon as we got to her room, she started questioning me about my foot (Henry had told her over the phone). You should know that Judy LOVES HER SON. I mean, you want to talk about Golden Boys? In her eyes, he can do no wrong. However, even Judy knew that Henry done FUCKED UP this time. I sat there with my arms crossed, shooting smug looks at Henry while his mom, the actual patient, fussed over my foot.
She wanted me to go to the ER in the worst way, and now I kind of wish that I had, if only to watch Henry’s face blanche as I told all of the nurses and doctors about the abuse that had befallen me that day.
Son of the Year Henry ate Judy’s hospital dinner. Mmm, beef tips over noodles.
Before we left, I pulled Henry into the hospital chapel. I poked my head around the corner first to make sure there weren’t any sobbing family members or bereavement clubs going on, and then I began exploring while Henry stood off to the back, making disapproving sighs.
I signed the chapel prayer book (even though I kept calling it the guest book) and Henry was bracing himself. Jesus Christ, I didn’t write anything bad! Do you think THAT poorly of me, Henry?
Moments later, I swiped some chapel souvenirs. I have big plans for that cross. It involves pink spraypaint, a tiny plastic babydoll and the essence of Satan.
In the parking garage, Henry opened the car door for me. OH, HOW GALLANT.