Chapter 25

Greg lay in bed with the lights off even though he was wide awake. It was difficult for him to stop thinking about Joanne. She was different in ways he couldn't wrap his mind around. He couldn't decide if she was more like a female version of Wilson or a calmer version of Stacey. She was definitely nothing like Cuddy.

He turned on his side with a bit of frustration. Comparing Joanne to anyone he knew wasn't fair to her or himself. Greg realized he was trying to fit the new woman in his life into pre-existing molds of personalities he had experiences with. If he wasn't careful, he'd find himself trying to force a square peg into a round hole.

Furthermore, by comparing her to what was familiar to him, he would eventually thrust upon her the expectations he had of those people he identified her with.

Greg settled onto his back and groaned. No wonder his relationships failed at the start. He expected people to act in a certain way; and when they didn't he was disappointed. No, not in them, but in himself for pegging them to be one way and finding out that weren't. He was wrong.

Being wrong was okay-as long as the next step got you closer to being less wrong, or even right. Yet somehow in relationships, it wasn't so easy. Usually by the time he ceased the self-castigation, it was too late to repair the damage to the relationship.

Why could he never realize this before? The more he tried to rationalize the patterns, the less he understood his own intentions. Two questions circled his mind. The first was if he really wanted a serious relationship with the person in question. And the second, more important one: did he deserve it?

Nolan would be proud of him for analyzing the situation so rationally. The psychiatrist would also ask him what he thought he got from Joanne that made him look at his situation differently than he had all the others. Even more so, he'd probe further to get under his patient's skin to explore what Greg hoped to get from her.

Why was she different? He had been pissy. And she laughed. He had been rude. And she laughed. He was himself, no holds barred. And she was still interested. She wasn't judgmental. And aside from the great sex, she didn't need to dote on him or irritate him with the need to know his every move or what he was thinking. They could be together and content without needing to say anything.

Greg was smiling when he finally fell asleep. His mind was a peace thinking only of the interactions he shared with Joanne out on the deck. The feel of her body close to his was like that of a security blanket swaddling him from the negative thoughts and activities that usually pervaded his actions for the worse. That comfort lulled him; kept him safe from the dreams that usually escalated to nightmares.

The nothingness of darkness behind closed eyes was disturbed slightly by a muscle twinge. For a brief period of time the only conscious systems of Greg's body were his brain and his ears. Once the absence of a foreign presence wasn't detected, his ears went deaf and the brain drifted off. Until another twinge made his right foot jerk.

Greg turned on his side, his body's subconscious way of taking pressure off nerves that caused the spasm. It worked long enough for sleep to approach again. But it seemed to minute he was asleep, another physical distraction would occur.

This time it was more than a twitch. It felt like someone set his hip on fire. No matter how he moved, there was no relief, only painful discomfort exacerbated by the heated, sandy grittiness he felt in his joints.

The ibuprofen bottle was on the night stand. He took six. Twelve hundred milligrams should tame the inflammation enough for sleep to come again. Greg suffered through the agony until the pills kicked in.

And then two hours later, he was in agony once again. The only other thing he could try was a hot bath. He sat up, letting his legs adjust to the pain before sliding them over the mattress. His right side resisted, forcing him to move more slowly than he liked. He had to support his thigh with both hands.

Standing was going to be a bitch. Greg took a few deep, cleansing breaths before rising to his feet. Three quarters of the way to standing, he realized it wasn't going to end particularly pleasantly. He only hoped the landing would be soft.

When his right leg buckled beneath him, he hissed more in frustration than pain. He had been having a pretty good week, so far. Why did he have to be hurting now? There was no emotional turmoil. In fact, he felt great, except for the damn spasms.

With gritted teeth, he grabbed on to the edge of the bed, forcing himself up. He massaged his thigh mercilessly, hoping to loosen the knots enough to make the arduous journey to the bathroom. If this was any indication of how today was going to unfold, it bode ill omen.

After a long soak in the hot bath, Greg was able to get some rest. His leg, as well as he body, felt weak, but he chalked it up to exhaustion. He called down to the front desk to change his wake up call to four hours later than originally planned. If he was going to be in any shape to get through the day, he needed a few decent hours of sleep.