Virgin Tales — Chapters 3-6

And now back due to popular demand, Virgin Tales returns for four thrilling installments.
I've decided to lump all these together. Mostly because I don't want start so many different threads and this way I can keep everything together. Plus, this is in all likelihood the last installment of Virgin Tales.
If life is nothing more than a series of events, than the last eight weeks have been lots of living.
It is a a little weird that real life has such twists and turns, as you'll read.
Anyway, as usual, names and some events have been changed to protect the innocent, but this is mostly non-fiction. Everything happened fairly close to the way I described.
If you want background, find the previous threads. And if anyone knows a TV producer looking for a series idea, I think I got one.

Chapter 3 — The Art of Buying Flowers
​

So buying flowers isn't easy.
My local Sam's has a flower stand and has lots of choices. It was post-kitchen disaster and she was coming over.
I was doing movie night. Definitely, Maybe — I heart Ryan Reynolds — was the choice. I was also going to do some pizza and Sam's has the best pizza and a pretty awesome flower selection. So it was off to Sam's.
I'm not what one would call a flower-buying dude, so I asked one of the girl's working there if she could help out.
“Do you love her?”
I don't know.
“Well if you love her, buy her red flowers.”
Really?
“Yes and if you like her, you buy pink flowers.”
This is all really confusing.
“Not really. You just buy what you like.”
What do sunflowers mean?
“That they are sunflowers. Some girls like them.”
Is that what you would want?
“I like the lilies. I think they are pretty and white doesn't mean love.”
I think I will buy the lilies.
“Good choice.”

So it was off to movie night at my place and everything went off without a hitch.
Definitely, Maybe wasn't all that bad and the pizza was good. It seemed like my home passed inspection, but that's just a guess.
Plans were made for more.
After she left, I got a call from an old hookup. One that would let me have my way and my answer surprised me.
“No, thanks.”
My life seems to be changing.

Chapter 4 — Just a quick dip in the pool
​

Labor Day weekend rolls around and she has a work trip scheduled to Chicago for the next week.
Her pooch needs a place to stay, so she's going to take her to parents' house and I go along for the ride.
The plan was to leave Sunday afternoon.
I wake up Sunday morning and make my pre-church preparations. And I don't have any hot water.
As a matte of fact, my gas stove isn't working either.
I decide its time to call the gas company.

"Hi, I live in town and I don't have any gas coming into my house."
What's your account number?
"I dunno know"
Okay, give me your social security and your address.
"Okay.”
You don't see to have any problems with your account. Are you in the house?
"Yes."
You are!?! Sir, you need to get out of your house immediately. You might have a gas leak.
"What."
Get. Out. Now.
"Umm, okay."
Have you called the fire department?
"No"
We'll have someone over immediately.
And let me tell you, the gas company's response was like the second coming of Jesus.
The best part? No gas leak. They had been doing some street work or something and had shut the gas off, but it wasn't logged or recorded anywhere.

Needless to say, our departure time was delayed, but only slightly.
The trip up was uneventful and meeting her parents and some assorted friends was pleasant enough.
It was a small town and I was promised by the local country correspondent for the weekly paper in town that I would make her weekly roundup of important people coming to town.
It made me giggle, but on the inside, she was very serious about her craft.

Chapter 5 — Dear Chicago, you'll never guess.
​

So Tuesday rolls around and I'm supposed to pick her up and take her to the airport. She calls, while I'm driving that direction and I'll tell her I'll be there in a little bit.
I pull in and she's sitting on the sidewalk of her apartment complex and in the rain.
This perplexed me, but I go around and park.
With the rain it is slick out, so I walk with a deliberate pace to avoid an accident.
My assumption is that she has slipped and ripped her pants or something. When I get closer, I realize that's not the case. Not the case at all.
The upper part of her leg is going one direction and the lower part of her leg is going the other. Not quite Theismann-esque but close, very close.
She wants to know if it looks bad enough to call the ambulance or if I can take her to the emergency room.
She lives in an apartment complex and the guy from the complex had made it down. He had a box knife on him and I cut the pants to get a look.
At this point, it’s worth remembering that in my previous life I worked as an EMT and fireman. I've seen some injuries.
Her kneecap was sitting about half way up her leg and you have a giant gap where the kneecap should be.
I call 911 and the fire truck gets there first, then the ambulance.
One of the fireman slips on the pavement as well. It was slick and probably actionable.
I call her boss to tell her that she won't be making the flight and which hospital in town was acceptable to the insurance.
The ambulance crew loads her up and I tell her that I will meet her at the hospital.
In the meantime, the fixer upper calls me back and I tell her what happened. With the phone tree being what it is, she had heard that it had been a wreck and the car had flipped.
She gets to the ER and after the x-ray they determine that the kneecap has been broken in half and the bottom half has been broken again.
Time for surgery, assuming she gets a room. One has been promised and I go to investigate. The room is clean and ready to go, but the computer says it was dirty. So the ER wait stretches into the 16-hour mark.
Frankly, not acceptable, but the surgery comes first.
So that happens the next day. And when the leg is opened up, it reveals that the tendons have been torn as well. So that needs to be repaired as well, and then the kneecap gets stitched back together.
Prognosis?
The next three months in a leg immobilizer.
PT and rehab for another six to ninth months, and the doctor telling her that it will be about a year before the leg is right again, not that it will ever be “right” just that it will be good to go.
The nurses at the nursing station on the floor pronounce me the “best husband ever” since I have spent so much time at the hospital.
I don't correct them because I've been staying after visiting hours were over and as a non-family member they would have ran me off.
Plus I needed to see if Vandy could pull off the upset of South Carolina. They did.
This makes her suite mate, a very surly 70-something very angry, but she got over it or something like that.

Chapter 6 — The aftermath
​

It has been T-plus 8 days since the accident.
She's at home and her mom has been with her the whole time.
I've been pronounced the “sweetest boy ever” for my efforts post accident.
She's worried that I will dump her. She's going to be using a walker for the next three months and that, with everything else, has caused some concern.
My way of thinking has changed.
I think I might be in my first adult relationship.
Weird.

 

That's quite a story. I hope it works out.

 

First a virgin, now a time machine? I want your life, dude.

 

You lost all credibility there.

And chapter 5 was painful to read.

 

Man ... now even she decides she wants to do the hibbity dibbity, it'll take a morphine drip to make it possible and let's be honest, it's just not as fun if she's not awake. I mean, what?

 

Dude, some small town weeklies are required by law to run those columns. I can picture it now ...

Miss Nameless Virgin and Mr. JayFarrar visited Virgin's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Virgin, over the weekend. They spent Saturday before returning home to Big City.

 

Every time I see one of these, it's like a gift from Santa.

And you sir are a fine gentleman. With first-hand experience of what rehab is like, best wishes to your lady friend.

 

You forgot, "a good time was had by all...except Mr. Farrarr."

 

Good for you, Jay. I look forward to the post from the altar.

 

Jay, I can't figure out whether the proper response to this is "That's wonderful" or "That's terrible" (your heart / her leg). Work on figuring out creative ways to keep her positive; you'll be amazed how good it will make you feel.


For the single guys out there: It obviously worked well for Jay, but a lot of women would look at white lilies and think, "Funeral flowers?" Just sayin'.

 

I'm a rose guy. But all it usually does for me is drain the bank account a little more and make the mothers say, "He's such a sweet boy."

Maybe I should try for the mothers.