Free Wild by Tina Folsom

get you Chinese,” he conceded only too easily.
    “Thanks. Here’s some money for it.” I wanted to hand him one of the twenty dollar bills I had on the coffee table, but he waved me off.
    “On the house,” he smiled. “I’ll see you in a little while.”
    Not if I can help it!
    He turned and walked out the door. I heard his footsteps on the stairs. Seconds later I heard what sounded like a garage door opening and then the roaring sound of a car engine.
    I was alone again.
    There was no time to be wasted. First I needed to find something to wear. Since I had no idea where I was, I had to be prepared to be out in the cold for a while. I peeled myself out of the couch and staggered to his walk-in closet.
    With each move my leg throbbed harder. I looked at the coffee table where he had left me the painkillers, but I wanted to stay alert, and the pain helped. When I opened the closet, I didn’t know what I had expected, but the contents were entirely normal for a man. A few suits, lots of pants, jeans, shirts and t-shirts. I knew all his clothes would be way too large for me, but luckily it had come into fashion for girls to wear their boyfriend’s jeans. I wouldn’t be out of place.
    I took one of his jeans from the hanger and limped back to the couch.
    Lying down on the couch it was easier to slip the jeans over my injured leg. I was careful not to touch my wound. It was expertly bandaged. I had to give him that. Whatever he was, he was a pretty good doctor, if he really was a doctor.
    The short walk back from the closet had exhausted me. I took a brief break, just breathing in and out. I could feel how weak I was and knew I had to eat something before I left. As I got up, I had to hold up the jeans with my hands. I would have to get a belt or something to hold it up.
    But now all I could think of was eating something. I opened the fridge and took out a steak. It was huge, but I was hungry. It wasn’t hard to work out how to turn on the grill and it didn’t take long for it to heat up.
    I slapped the meat onto the hot grill and it sizzled. The smell made me even hungrier. I looked at the clock on the oven and realized I hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, since my late breakfast the day I had left Carmela’s flat.
    No wonder I felt weak. I liked my steak medium and it didn’t take long for it to cook to perfection. As I finally took the first bite, I felt better. The steak was delicious. I hadn’t had a good steak in a long time. My meager wages didn’t quite allow me to splurge like that.
    After I had devoured the entire steak, I suddenly felt tired. There was no harm in resting for a few more minutes, I told myself as I hobbled back to the couch. I needed all the strength I could muster, so shutting my eyes for a few minutes couldn’t all be bad. I wouldn’t sleep. I would just rest my eyes for a few minutes.
    No!
    I had to stay alert. I pulled myself up and got up from the couch. Realizing that the jeans were slipping down my thighs, I knew I needed to get to his closet once more. He had to have a belt which I could use to hold up the jeans. I searched through his drawers: underwear, socks. There, belts.
    I picked one and pulled it through the hooks on the jeans, but when I tried to close it I was out of luck. There weren’t enough holes in the belt. I threw it back into the drawer. Maybe a tie would do the trick. I opened the next drawer, but found no clothes.
    The drawer was filled with stacks of photos. Curiosity got the better of me. As I dropped myself to the floor I took out a stack and looked through them. I was fascinated by one of the photos. It showed a group of people in their late twenties, Vince amongst them, who were at some party. They were dancing. Vince was laughing.
    I noticed their clothes were awful. The colors seemed out of place. I had never seen so many people showing no taste in clothing whatsoever. Then I realized it was a theme party: they all wore seventies style clothing.