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“—okay there?” Kamal groaned, rubbing at the tiredness that mucked around in his vision as he steadily came to. Simply put, feeling both cold and sweaty wasn’t an ideal start to his morning. Wait, morning? Was it morning? He could see the sunlight filtering in through the skylight, yeah, but that didn’t mean that it was morning already. As a matter of fact, it was still quite dark. “Hey, kid!” Oh hey, there was someone standing in front of him. Oh no. “What’re you doin’ on the floor? Did you spend the night here?”
“Mornin’.” That’s all he could say, really. Well, untrue, he could say more. Kamal could say a lot more. However, being found on the floor next to the stairway entry wasn’t necessarily good. As a matter of fact, it was awkward. Really, really awkward. “Is it really morning already?”
“It’s about 5:07am. Sun hasn’t quite come up yet.”
“Gotcha.” ...Why was he on the floor? He remembered helping Boris change his old dental office to, he didn’t know, some kind of recreational room? He helped center a circular rug as well as organize the dozens and dozens of books he brought. Anyways. He helped set up a room. He went down the elevator. He was always thankful for that thing. Got out of the elevator, walked through the tunnel. He could remember pain, his lower spine feeling like his head that time he contracted a high fever. He could remember the ache in his shoulders, his hips, his ankles, the complete total exhaustion his body was suffering from after spending a day doing errands. He remembered reaching the stairs, looking up them, measuring his pain amount...and then he must’ve just decided to lay down on the floor. In hindsight, it was a good decision at the time. Now? Oh what a terrible decision that was.
“You, uh, gonna answer my previous questions?” Did he trust Jimothan enough to honestly answer? Kamal knew from Parsley that Jimothan could be very...old-fashioned(?) at times. The ‘back-in-my-day’ kinda guy.
“I know he means well,” he recalled Parsley saying, “but it gets...aggravating sometimes. A lot of the times. Yeah, a lot of the times.”
That said...Kamal didn’t think he was in a well-enough state, nonetheless position, to even try and lie to the older man.
“First and foremost I don’t want your input on this, capiche?”
“Capoche.”
“Yes, I did spend the night on the floor. I swear I didn’t mean to, but...I didn’t have the energy to hike up the stairs.”
“How so? I’ve seen you go up and down those stairs plenty of times. Slowly, yeah, and primarily using one foot, but you’ve still done it.” He sighed.
“I don’t…have a good spine? If I move around too much it kinda just...hurts a lot?” A queasy feeling settled into his stomach, anticipating the typical onslaught of responses he receives when talking about this. ‘It’s because you don’t move around enough.’ ‘It’s because of your posture; stand up straight.’
But he didn’t hear it. Instead…
“What kind of pain is it?”
“Uhh...well, it’s like a, a squeezing pain. It feels like someone is balling up their fists around my spine with like, uh, you know how stomach pains feel like? In addition to the squeezing its just like a similar feeling to stomach pain.”
“And it gets worse as you keep moving?”
“Y-Yeah. Sometimes I can forcefully block out the pain. Put it in the backlogs so that it’s just an achy feeling, y’know? Nothin’ too major. But, if I move, and move, and just keep moving, I can’t ignore it. Instead it kinda just...spreads like a contagion of pain. My hips’ll feel sore, my shoulders will ache, and my ankles just like...sting with pain. I can deal with it, for the most part. Sometimes it just...becomes a little too much.”
“I see. Got anything to help you with it?”
“Hm?” Truth be told, he was not expecting this kind of response from Jimothan.
“See, I used to play sports—” Okay, now that was something he could expect, “—and it’s really easy to get yourself seriously injured. A lot of my pals have ended up with twisted ankles, torn rotator cuffs, gashes, concussions, you name it. Heh, I’ve gotten a few gnarly injuries too. But that’s besides the point. My point is, you need something to help you if things get t’ be that bad.”
“...I do have a cane.”
“I’ve never seen ya with it.”
“That’s uh, because I don’t, bring it into public.”
“And why’s that?”
“Um, well, uh,” he tugged at his sleeve, feeling so...so...he didn’t know, but whatever it was it left a twisty feeling in his gut and a sickly feeling in his throat. “I guess I’m just...embarrassed? And afraid. I can walk fine for the most part, and I just, I don’t know, I just don’t want people getting all up in my face about it.” Kamal did his best to not dredge up those memories. Those stay in the deepest depths of his mind. “I guess I feel ashamed.”
There was a beat of silence before Jimothan spoke up.
“There’s nothin’ wrong with needin’ a cane, son. Here,” Jimothan knelt down, reaching for his arm, “think ya’d be able to manage to move down to the lounge with me as a support?”
“I can try,” he replied. Truth be told, he didn’t really want to move. However, Kamal knew that it was for the best if he did for a couple of reasons: a.) staying on the cold, hard floor was only going to cause him further pain, b.) someone could trip over him and knock a tooth out, and c.) the site of him lying motionless on the ground was sure to cause a fit of panic among the others. Needless to say, he didn’t want to take the chance of any of those things happening. “I can’t imagine it being too much from walking with a cane. It’s just that, y’know instead of me holding a stick it’s me holding onto a man and the man is holding onto me.”
“No need to expand on it.” Jimothan took ahold of his arm, wrapping it around his shoulder while his free arm went around his waist. His grip was too firm for his liking, having that dad-quality to it, but he knew that, if he wanted to get off of the floor, he was going to have to deal with it. “I needja to try’n push yourself offa the ground, okay?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be strong and burly?” He cleared his throat.
“I’ll admit, I’m not exactly in my prime anymore. If I was 20 years younger, sure, I would’ve been able to lift ya no sweat, but...I’m not 20 years younger. You gotta work with me here, alright?” Kamal took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. This was gonna hurt.
“I did say I could try.”
“Well...you ready?” He sighed.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Alright. On the count of three, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Three...two...one...go!” As he expected, the effort of standing up burned, his lower back, hips, and knees all pulsating with pain. His spine cracked in displeasure as he attempted to straighten his posture, his bones creaking and moaning as he got to his feet. He put more weight on Jimothan than he would’ve liked, but the man did offer his help. That meant that he didn’t mind, right? Probably. Yeah. Yeah probably. “You doin’ okay?”
“I’m doing about as good as I could be doing.”
“If it weren’t for me supporting you, you’d look like nothing is wrong.”
“Thanks! I spent years practicing.” Jimothan ignored that and, instead, asked another question.
“Think we’ll be able to make it down the stairs alright?”
“As long as you keep supporting my weight I don’t think we’ll fall.”
“Only one way to find out, I suppose.”
-
The fact that they made it to the lounge was a complete miracle. At least, to Kamal.
Jimothan guided him to the couch, gently loosening his grip so that he would be able to seat himself without causing himself more pain. Although he felt that it would be near impossible to settle comfortably into any one position, he still felt gratitude towards the old bartender. It was a nice change of pace (was that even the right term? whatever), having someone whose generation is known for chastising actually...not do that.
“Do you use heating pads? I think I’ve a spare one lyin’ ‘round here somewhere.”
“I do, yes. If you could get it that’d be mucho appreciated.”
“Give me a few minutes.”
Kamal sighed, arching his spine as he rolled his shoulders back. Did it help him at all? Eh, he wouldn’t know. There admittedly was something nice about hearing his joints crack, but whether or not it helped soothe them was unknown to him. ...He really should look that up at some point.
He stared up at the ceiling, absently tugging at his shirt. How long was it going to take Jimothan to find a heating pad? He hoped not very long. Asides from the pain, the lounge was just too...uneventful? No, not that. It was, oh, let’s see. It’s too quiet, for one. The jukebox had been turned off; they never played it in the morning. On top of that, the TV that had been installed recently was off. When he holed himself on the roof, there were things he was able to listen to. The wind, Questionette’s indecipherable phrases, Borbra’s giddiness at spotting a bird, stuff like that. It’s just...too quiet. There was nothing to distract himself with. Instead, the only thing he had was the pain and he hated it.
Was it normal to be so focused on that? Maybe finding a forum where he could talk to people who were like him would be useful. Or maybe clubs? No, definitely forum. Maybe forum. The thought of opening up to complete strangers wasn’t really...ideal to him. Kamal liked to think of himself as a closed book. He’d talk about himself when it was required of him, but he was careful not to give too much detail or dip into a topic that interested him.
Wait. Oh god. Oh god was he an idiot. Why didn’t he just sit on the stairs? That would’ve been so, so much better than passing out on the floor. God...what a moron he was. Pain or not, nothing could excuse that level of stupidity. Assuming he still would’ve passed out, well, it would’ve looked a helluva lot better than being passed out on the floor. Like, he didn’t know, it probably would’ve just looked like he was gonna take a small break and then fell asleep? God, being found like that would’ve probably saved him the awkward conversation.
Although...he supposed that the cat would’ve gotten out of the bag sooner or later. He got lucky, last year, having landed in a position that didn’t require much walking or lifting. Being able to sit on the Terrace all day was nice too...minus the ‘having to see how far away he was from the ground and hearing the wind roaring in his ears’ bit. Ah, well, best to not think about that. Gotta focus on the forward. Moving forward. However the saying went.
Kamal was brought out of his thoughts by what, at first glance, appeared to be a blue piece of cloth moving in front of his face. Upon closer inspection, he could see that Jimothan had returned with the aforementioned heating pad.
“Here ya go, kid. I’ll plug it in for you.” He took it graciously, mumbling his thanks. The instructions on these things always said not to lay on them, but he didn’t care. Nothing bad has happened...yet. He didn’t even know what bad thing to expect. Heavy burns? A small fire? ...Okay yeah those were concerning but it’s fine! Whatever works. What-ev-er works.
Kamal stretched, sinking further onto the couch. He needed to stop thinking so much. But if he didn’t stop thinking then the only thing he’d only be able to fixate on would be the pain and he felt so stupid and cliche for only thinking about the pain but god how else could he think of something else he really just needed the heating pad to start heating up—
Jimothan cleared his throat.
“You, uh, aren’t much of a talker, are ya?”
“Uh, n-no, not really.” Jimothan nodded his head before turning to rummage around in the lower cabinets, taking out a rag and a bottle of surface cleaner.
“Mind me startin’ up some small talk?”
“Sure? I just can’t promise that my responses are gonna be, well… I don’t know, interesting I guess?”
“That’s fine.” He sprayed the countertop, wiping it down with vigor. “D’ya think this is gonna work?”
“What’s gonna work?”
“The repurposing of the Habitat.”
“I don’t think this is small talk.”
“Well...it gets a conversation going.”
“Mm.” He scratched at his shirt. “I don’t know. I mean...no one asides from the original 24 know what was going on here last year. Heh, rhyme.” He cleared his throat. “Boris has done a really good job of renovating the place and, like, he’s been going to therapy and you can tell he’s doing better, y’know? Flower kid really helped him.” He sighed, taking a beat of silence. “I mean, I guess, there’s only one way to find out. And that’s, uh, through time?”
“Only time will tell?”
“Yeah, that saying.”
“Heh. I suppose you’re right.” Once the bar was clean, he moved to focus on polishing the various wine and martini glasses behind him.
“Why’d you come back?” The glass squeaked.
“Why wouldn’t I? You know as well as I do that Habit pays really well. Gotta put food on the table, all that stuff.”
“Was your previous job not good enough?” He hummed. Not quite a yes, but not quite a no. “Last time, and you don’t have to answer this, you came here because you were worried about Parsley. Does the same hold true? Or did, uh, something happen? Sorry if it sounds like I’m prying.”
“It’s fine. Curiosity takes you down on a path.” Jimothan set down the glass he was cleaning, staring at his reflection. “Family life isn’t easy. Think it’s best if I leave it at that.” There was a thread of melancholy in his tone, the hints of something unraveling. It’s really not his business. “So, how ‘bout you, if you don’t mind tellin’?”
“Ah, well...I don’t...really...know.”
“Lying really isn’t your strong suit. That’s okay, though. Is the heating pad helping any?”
“Sorta.”
“Want me to ask someone to pick up some pain medication? I heard that Aleve works pretty well.”
“Ask me again in 15 minutes.”
“You got it.”