Ill Will Read Online Free PDF Page A

and Cordelia, since I think he was more interested in her expertise in the situation. “Ah, sorry. We were otherwise occupied.” I had turned the phone down for important bedroom activities.
    “Still? Aren’t you two well into the lesbian bed death era? The funeral should be a distant memory by now.”
    “Still. Lesbian bed death is a vicious rumor started by straight men who can’t stand the competition.” I took a sip of my iced tea. “However, we have slowed down a bit, only a couple of times a week now instead of every day.”
    “No wonder you don’t have time to answer phone calls from desperate friends,” he grumbled.
    “How’s Andy?” It was time to get away from my sex life and onto the reason for this lunch.
    “It was not a fun experience. I was sure he was going to bleed to death before he was seen. His folly with a kitchen knife was regrettable, as it seemed every drug dealer in the city chose last night to get into a gun battle. Shotgun wounds trumped paring knives.”
    “Damn, you picked the wrong emergency room.”
    The serious look on Torbin’s face was one I rarely saw. One of the reasons I loved my cousin was his ability to find the humor in just about everything. “We didn’t have much choice,” he said softly.
    “Andy doesn’t have insurance,” I said.
    He nodded.
    Our appetizers were served. A heaping plate of onion rings seemed the only comfort available.
    He took a bite out of one, chewed, swallowed, then said, “That’s the favor I need to ask for. Andy’s okay, but the cut looked kind of red and swollen this morning and he’s in pain. Do you think Cordelia would be willing to take a look at it? We tried a regular doctor, but the earliest available appointment is sometime next week. And I think Andy would cut off his hand before going back to the ER.”
    Cordelia—and I—didn’t want to be the local on-call doctor, so we had tried to discourage friends from cadging medical help from her. When she had her own clinic she was pretty good about working people in, but that clinic had been washed away in the floods and there didn’t seem to be enough returned people to justify the cost—financial and emotional—of rebuilding it. Now that she was just a “doc for hire,” she had far less leeway in who she saw. Torbin knew he was asking a big favor.
    “Let me call her,” I said. “Don’t eat all the onion rings.”
    I walked outside before dialing. Just to be safe, I didn’t want Torbin overhearing our conversation. Not because he would hear her saying no, but to avoid him hearing me tell her she could say no.
    Luck—of some sort—was with me, as she answered the phone. When she’s working it can be hard for her to take a call. I quickly explained the situation. “You don’t have to do this. I know how tired you are and—”
    She cut me off. “It’s okay. Tell them it’ll have to be after I’m home this evening. If they can wait until then. Tell Torbin if it gets worse, if Andy has a fever or something, then he needs to go to the ER.”
    “Andy doesn’t have insurance.”
    “Damn,” she swore softly. “He still needs to go. It’s probably cheaper and easier than having his arm cut off. And I’ll give him the lecture tonight about taking this as a wake-up call. He can get away with a knife wound; it’ll heal. If it’s cancer or a car accident, no insurance might kill him.” Then she had to go.
    Torbin had been good about the onion rings. No more than one had disappeared in the time I’d been gone.
    “Come by the house tonight. If he has fever or things get worse, drag him back to the ER. You want your boyfriend to be hard, not stiff.”
    Torbin smiled his relief. And ate another onion ring.
    Our main dish arrived, a burger for me and ribs for him. Major comfort food.
    “What about you?” I asked. “What happens if you get hit by a Mack truck?”
    He put down the rib he had been eating. “We used to be good. Before Katrina, Andy worked enough time