Still On The Fridge

Danny texted at seven. Three words. I was there by eight.

Left hand only. Three rounds. Danny sat on the stool and did not look at me once.

Last round I threw one right. Slow. The shoulder clicked. Clean. No pain. Nothing wrong. Just a click.

I stood still. Bag still swinging. Danny still not looking. The click did not say anything. Not yes. Not no.

Drove home. The brown envelope is still in the drawer. Fight paper too. I did not pull it out.

Dr Reyes' number is still on the fridge. I got a glass of water. I saw it. Put the glass down. Did not take it down.

I keep saying I will call tomorrow. I have said that for a week. I do not want to know what she will say.

Not knowing is the worst part.

I am tired of being brave.