Not So Bad

Clay checked left, then right. The coast was clear - all the nurses were busy. He kept the warm bag of McDonald’s tucked safely under his jacket and darted into the hospital room.

“Hey Bobby, I brought some --”

Bob lunged for the remote control and turned off the television. Then he pasted a bright, innocent smile on his face and sat back. “Clay. What’s up?” He spotted the bulge under Clay’s jacket, and his eyes lit up. “Did you bring it?”

Clay eyed the television warily. “What were you watching?”

Again with the wide, guileless eyes. Clay knew that expression. They’d perfected it together when they were kids for the purposes of switching identities for the day.

“Nothing,” Bob said sunnily. “Is it McDonald’s?”

Clay approached the bed cautiously, still holding his prize. “What could that show have possibly been that you turned the TV off that quickly?” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you were watching --”

“Dude, you can’t get porn on TVs in hospitals, and that’s just wrong.” Bob crossed his arms over his chest indignantly.

“I didn’t say it was porn, but since you suggested it --” Clay struck, quick as a snake, and snatched the remote up off the bed.

“Hey!” Bob scrambled after it, but he was too late. And he was brought up short by the IV in the back of his hand.

Clay hit the power button and watched the television come to life. The scene was dark, but Clay recognized the streets. It was a local show, one filmed in Canada. The characters on screen were a woman, blonde, with glasses and a night stick and a man who looked surprisingly young in comparison. Then he grinned. Long fangs. No way.

Bob turned bright red and ducked his head, an automatic gesture even though he no longer had long hair to hide behind.

An amused grin spread across Clay’s features. “Blood Ties? The one Shelley watches? Are you serious?”

Bob snatched the remote back with an indignant huff, but he didn’t turn the show off. “She started watching it with me when she comes in to visit, and...it’s not so bad.”

“It’s about vampires.”

Bob rolled his eyes. “It’s obvious I’m not in it for the vampire.”

“Is it obvious?”

“I’m not Dan.” Bob eyed the McDonald’s bag hopefully.

Clay’s expression turned calculating. “Give me one good reason why I should continue to associate with a moron who watches such low-brow --”

“The girl. The ex-cop. She kinda reminds of Caro.” Bob stared down at his hands.

Clay’s breath hitched in his chest. “Oh.”

Bob lifted his head. “I’m sorry.”

Clay shook his head, held out the bag. “No. I was just kidding about the show --”

“I’m sorry about me. And Carolyn. And how it made you feel. We both -- well. I felt horrible about it.”

“I know, dearthair. But she chose you, and not me, and you deserved to be happy. Now eat up before the nurses get back.”