My Best Friend Emily Ch. 07

Emily glanced across at Angela, and for a moment I thought that she was going to ask Angela to leave. Something passed between them that even in my current state I couldn't miss, and it dawned on me that while Emily was sitting with me she probably told Angela everything. Emily wasn't the type to hold anything back. I wondered what Angela already knew.

"Do you remember what I told you... yesterday?" Emily asked.

I gulped. Yesterday's conversation did happen, I thought to myself grimly. I nodded.

Emily took a deep breath. "Lisa shot you, shot me, and shot herself. She's dead," Emily said. I nodded again, hoping she would tell me more. I wasn't disappointed. "The gun was fully loaded," Emily said. "She could have kept shooting. The only reason either of us are still here is that she was in a big hurry to blow her head off." I winced when she said that, so Emily added, "Are you okay?" I nodded at her. I knew it was going to be painful to hear, but I wanted to hear it.

"Once I knew... it was over," Emily said, "I jumped up and called 911. One look and I knew there was no saving Lisa." Emily paused, and I could only imagine the horror of seeing Lisa dead. "But you were still alive. I did what I could until the paramedics arrived. They saved your life, really. They were able to keep you from bleeding to death until they got you to the hospital. The doctors were able to patch you up. A couple of transfusions, and you were stabilized."

"What about you?" I asked, indicating her arm.

Emily chuckled. "Compared to you? I got a few stitches and a band-aid," she said. "I'm only wearing the sling for sympathy," she added with a wink, and I knew she was lying, that she was hurt worse than she was letting on. "Anyway, obviously the authorities descended on the house. There were police, homicide detectives, and coroners. They rushed you off to the hospital but they treated me at the scene. Lisa's were the only prints on the gun. They found a note she left. Then they searched the house."

Emily paused again. I winced when she mentioned a note. It was still hard to believe what had happened, and the thought that it was premeditated was hard to understand. Why did she want to kill herself? Why did she want to try to kill us?

"Joe, did you ever read her diaries?" Emily asked me.

Her what? I thought to myself. I knew that Lisa was a writer. She wrote some short stories that she let me read once or twice. They were fantasies similar to Lord of the Rings. I never knew she kept diaries. It was another secret she kept from me.

The look on my face must have been enough of an answer for Emily. "The police found a drawer full of old notebooks. They dated back to high school, maybe even older. Her iPad was also apparently full of writings. Obviously they wouldn't let me read anything," Emily said, "But when the police questioned me I got an idea about what was in them. Sometimes they were just typical diary entries. Sometimes they were disturbing, even deranged. Joe, Lisa had been planning to kill herself since high school."

Emily paused again to let that statement sink in. I wondered sometimes if Lisa was depressed, but I never thought she was suicidal. There were times she just wanted to be alone. All these years when I thought she was off grading papers or preparing lesson plans, she was actually filling notebooks with deranged thoughts. The thought of it chilled me. Lisa was psychotic. All these years, she could have snapped at any moment. We pushed her to it, I thought. Emily and I, we finally pushed her over the edge.

"Apparently there were several suicide notes amongst her notebooks," Emily continued. "She was always trying to write the perfect suicide note, but she never went through with it. Apparently she kept changing her mind, or chickening out. One theme that apparently kept coming up was blaming her parents for having to hide her sexuality, for feeling pressured to live life as a heterosexual when she really wanted to be with women."

"She was a lesbian," I mumbled.

"Lisa was bi-sexual," Emily snapped, and then she softened her tone. "You need to stop thinking of sexuality as black and white. It's not always that simple. The police who questioned me said there was plenty in there about you, about how much she loved you, about how you made her life almost bearable." Emily sighed. "In the end it wasn't enough. Anyway that's all the information I could get about Lisa's diaries, even though I did a little bit of Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct on them." Emily turned and sat in a chair by the window. She made a show of crossing and uncrossing her legs. She was wearing shorts. She laughed. I knew she was just trying to lift my spirits. "They're yours, you know," Emily added. "They're yours to read or yours to burn, whatever you want to do with them."

I knew right then that I wanted to read them. To try and understand the person that I always thought I knew but never really knew anything about. The pain in my chest was getting worse. I grimaced and Angela noticed. "You are in pain," she said, and she lowered the bed until I was lying flat again. Almost on cue another nurse showed up with a dose of painkillers. I felt her inject it into my IV, the burning sensation as it entered my bloodstream. I realized it would put me out again in moments.

Emily had stood up again and was by my bedside. She touched my cheek. "You rest," she said. "We'll talk more tomorrow." She leaned down and kissed my forehead. "Goodnight," she said, as the drugs kicked in and the world around me spun and faded.

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The next day I was actually awake, more or less. The day nurse sat me up and fed me breakfast. My stomach was grateful for the food, but it had been over a week since I'd eaten, and I had to eat slowly to let my body adjust. The day nurse was the stocky woman I had seen yesterday. She was a chipper person and started telling me how I would progress. When I healed enough they'd get me on my feet and start therapy. When I was strong enough they'd send me home. I smiled at her as she shoveled another spoonful of eggs into my mouth.

I fell asleep after breakfast, and when I woke up again, Emily was there. I had a meal in me and I was able to actually sit up and drink water. I was able to talk and ask questions. The other nurse was gone. We were alone in the room.

"How are Lisa's parents?" I asked Emily. "How are they coping?"

"Oh my God!" Emily shouted. I narrowed my eyes at her. Emily got a little more somber. "Joe, there's so much more to tell you, a few things I held back until you were a little better. When the police searched the house, they found the toys."

It took a few seconds for me to realize what she was talking about. Right, the sex toys! The dildo, the butt plug, the bottle of lube. They were probably still in the desk.

"They looked at her phone, too. They saw our conversation, my conversation with Lisa, the naked pictures we swapped back and forth," Emily said, "And they searched her iPad too, where she eventually started writing instead of by hand in notebooks, and the last couple of weeks obviously told the whole story of our relationship."

"Well, the press had a field day," Emily said. "Obviously any shooting in a small town like ours would be newsworthy, but once word of what was really going on got out, that there was a scandalous love triangle, that we were all sleeping together, it became a sensation. I'm talking nationwide. I've done a couple of interviews. I'm the other woman," Emily said with a giggle. I glared at her again.

"Anyway, Lisa's parents were horrified to learn the truth about their daughter. They've been horrible, really. They blamed you, they blamed me, and they blamed society. They'll say and believe anything to avoid blaming themselves or their archaic belief system. They'll talk to anyone who'll listen. They gave interview after interview. They even showed up at your house with a priest and attempted to do an exorcism. Demons, be gone!" Emily shouted, and she giggled again. I didn't have to glare at her this time. She knew she was out of line.

"They turned Lisa's funeral into a circus," Emily continued. "I didn't go, but I watched the highlights on the local news. Her parents screamed about how their daughter was led astray, about how this country has lost its way, about how they need to bring good Christian morals back..." Emily trailed off. She saw the look on my face.

"I missed Lisa's funeral," I said.

"I'm sorry Joe," Emily said, "Lisa's parents wouldn't have wanted you there anyway. It'll be a while yet before you get out of here. Like I said you were better off not going." Emily paused to wipe a tear from my cheek. I didn't even realize I was crying. "I just can't believe it," I mumbled. "I can't believe this happened. I can't believe she's gone." Emily pulled one of the chairs to my bedside and took hold of my hand while I cried.

She sat with me quietly while I cried myself out. "It's good that you can cry," Emily said eventually. "Let it out." I slumped down in the bed. My chest was throbbing, and I told Emily. She pressed a button and a nurse arrived promptly. "His chest hurts," Emily said, and the nurse injected another dose of painkillers.

"See you later, I guess," I mumbled as the drugs made the world spin and I fell back into darkness.

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Emily and I were sitting in my recliner watching Ferris Bueller's Day Off. We had seen the movie hundreds of times, but we still laughed. We still recited our favorite lines along with Matthew Broderick, Alan Ruck, and Jennifer Grey. It was another half-aware dream, where I knew I was dreaming but I let it unfold. A part of me thought that we needed to keep it down because we would disturb Lisa. Another part of me knew that she was dead.

Lisa sort of faded into existence in front of me. "Lisa!" I shouted in my dream, and I reached out to her, not with my arms, but with my entire being, my mind and soul. Lisa vanished, and I felt empty. She was gone. The TV was off, and Emily was gone too...

I realized I was awake again. For the first time I was awake and alone. No doctor, no nurses, no family, no Emily. I lay there for quite a while, just staring off into nothing, thinking about everything. Eventually I thought about myself. I had been awake for two days, more or less, and I hadn't even tried to move. I moved my legs into the air, first one, and then the other. I wiggled my toes. Everything seemed to work. I moved my left arm and wiggled my fingers. I moved my right arm and felt a sharp pain in my chest. Right, that's the side I was shot on, I thought. Moving my right arm hurt. I made a mental note to tell someone. I tried to look at the wound on my chest but all I could see were the bandages.

Boredom caused me to drift off again, and I woke up later in the day. I found Angela was in the room with me. She was changing my IV bag. "Hello," she said when she saw I was awake. "I heard you ate breakfast this morning. Would you like some dinner?"

I nodded at her. She pulled out a menu and held it open in front of me. I pointed to what I wanted, a hamburger, careful to use my left hand. Angela went to the phone and ordered it. "There are some people waiting to see you," she said, "I made them wait until you were awake."

The parade began. Family, friends, and co-workers filed into my room in ones and twos. It was Friday evening, and for the next two days people were with me day and night. After a while the two at a time rule got relaxed and there were several people in my room at once, my closest friends and family staking out spots in my room and staying for hours at a time as others filed in and out. By Sunday night I had seen almost everyone I knew, and I was exhausted.

On Monday morning I saw the physical therapist for the first time. She was a tiny woman, barely five feet tall. "We're going to try to get you up on your feet," she said to me, "Don't be surprised if you have trouble walking."

"Why?" I asked her. "Was there damage to my spine or something?"

"Not that we know of," she replied, "But as much as we've learned about the human body, there are still mysteries. You can knock out something somewhere and something else doesn't work anymore. But it's more likely you'll have trouble walking right now because you haven't walked in two weeks and your leg muscles have atrophied."

The stocky day nurse pulled off all of my monitors and unhooked my IV. The two of them helped to haul me to my feet. The physical therapist was surprisingly strong. My first few steps were shaky and tentative. I felt like a newborn deer. I got my legs moving and took a few stronger steps. The nurse was on my right side and she had to readjust her grip on me. She moved my right arm, and I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I cried out.

They walked me back to the bed and sat me down. The therapist examined my arm, testing my range of motion and seeing what movements made it hurt. "There's a lot of muscle damage," she said. "It'll take time but it should heal fine." The physical therapist gave me a walker, and I got up again and shuffled back and forth across the room. I was grateful that I was going to be able to move around on my own. I was getting tired of using the bedpan.

The physical therapist left but she would be back. I was okay walking but she would work on my arm, helping me get back my range of motion and dealing with the pain. I plopped back into bed and the nurse reconnected me to everything. The doctor came in shortly after and decided that I didn't need to be hooked up to monitors anymore, and I got disconnected from everything but the IV. The nurse showed me how to move the IV stand along with me if I decided to get up and walk and nobody was around. After she left I got up and went to the bathroom, just because I could. I plopped back into bed, my chest throbbing, but I was so exhausted from moving around I fell right to sleep for the rest of the afternoon.

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I woke up to an odd sensation. I looked down and was shocked to find myself naked from the waist down. Angela was there with a bucket and a small soapy sponge. "Hello," she said, smiling at me warmly. "Enjoying your sponge bath?"

I stared at her. She was rubbing the sponge gently up and down my inner thigh. I noticed again how gorgeous Angela was, her big brown eyes, her dark ebony skin, her sleek shiny hair. Was it my imagination or was her nurse's outfit a little tighter? She leaned forward, her cleavage coming together in front of me. I stared at the beginning of a tattoo on the top of her right breast, disappearing under her nurse's uniform.

The sight and sensations were having an effect on me. I could feel myself growing hard. I was embarrassed, then horrified as Angela took hold of my growing member to sponge at my scrotum. "Yes, Mister Joe, you are enjoying yourself," she cooed as I grew harder still in her hand. I felt her fingers move slightly against the shaft. I grew larger and more erect. No way, I thought, she didn't just do that on purpose. Angela finished sponging her way down my other leg. "Okay, he's all yours," she said, and let go of my engorged penis and walked away.

Wait, who was she talking to? I was so focused on Angela I didn't think to look around the room. She wouldn't be giving me a sponge bath with someone else in the room, would she? Suddenly Emily came into view. "Hey pal," she said cheerfully, and to my shock she climbed right onto the bed between my legs. She leaned forward and grabbed a hold of my penis. "Did you miss me?" She said, her mouth just inches away from it.

"Emily!" I shouted. "What... what are you doing?"

"Relax, Joe," Emily said. "Nobody is going to walk in on us. I slipped the guard a finsky. It's amazing what it can do to a guy's attitude." She giggled and stroked my erection.

"What? What guard?" I was still shouting. "What's going on?"

"Joe," Emily said, "Your room has been under 24 hour guard. The press is dying to get a hold of you. I was dying to get a hold of you too," Emily added with a giggle.

"The press?" I said, "Why would the press want to talk to me?"

"I told you Joe," Emily said, "Our story caused a sensation. You, me, Lisa, our love triangle, the shooting. There's a high price out there for your exclusive interview. Everybody wants to hear your side of the story, if only to be a counterpoint to all of the horrible things that Lisa's parents have been saying. So, you've been under guard, until you're ready to talk."

I was about to yell at Emily again but I paused to let that sink in. I was going to have to give interviews. I blanched at the thought. I had no interest in publicity. Emily was continuing to stroke me, and I turned my attention back to her. I realized with a start that she was wearing the dress, the blue sundress I bought for her that morning. I also noticed that the sling was gone, replaced by a bandage on her arm. I decided not to mention the dress to her, but I asked her about the sling.

"Yeah, it came off today," Emily said. "It still hurts when I move it the wrong way, so I just try not to move it the wrong way." Emily ran her thumb along the underside of my penis. My legs jerked. "To celebrate that and you walking today my friend Angela here helped me plan this. Just lie back and enjoy yourself."

When Emily mentioned Angela's name I looked across the room. Angela was indeed still in the room, watching. She noticed me looking at her and looked me in the eye, and smiled. I felt sheepish, being jerked off in front of a relative stranger.

Emily was shifting position again, and I realized with a start that she was moving to straddle me. She didn't intend to just jerk me off; she was going to have sex with me. No, this was so wrong, I thought to myself. Here, in the hospital, in front of a nurse, so soon after Lisa... Lisa...

I couldn't even finish the thought. I wanted to scream at Emily, but I couldn't find the words. She was hovering above me now, working herself into a sitting position, lining her crotch up with mine. She caught my eye and smiled at me. She seemed oblivious to the fact that I didn't want her to do this. I felt her groin press against mine, and I noticed she wasn't wearing panties. Of course she wasn't, I thought, if she was planning on doing this. I felt her line me up with her pussy, and start to push me into her. I felt the head of my penis push through the opening. Emily sighed as she impaled herself on my cock.

Then she started to lose her balance. She teetered to one side, arms flailing for some kind of purchase. In a flash Angela was by her side, holding her up. "Thanks babe," Emily said, and began to move herself up and down on my erection. To my complete shock, Angela didn't move away. She stayed where she was, one hand on Emily's left arm, the other on her right shoulder, helping her keep her balance. Angela caught my eye and grinned at me. This was just too weird, I thought.

I was angry at Emily for doing this. I was lying in bed with a gunshot wound. I was shot by my wife who then killed herself, and here we were two weeks later, having sex. I was grieving, sad, angry, confused. This was a crazy thing to do. Despite what Emily said we could still get caught. There were probably video cameras in the room, and I found myself glancing around the ceiling until I found it. Yeah, the little node-like thing with the dark glass, I thought, horrified. Somewhere a security guard could be watching this. This is going to end up on youtube. This is going to be on the news. Man shot in love triangle has sex with his lover in the hospital, the headlines would blare. What an asshole.