"Wait, it gets worse. Earlier that evening Philly 911 took a call from some kook who said an FBI agent shot and killed somebody at..." Frank held up his hands, playing along, "I give up." "The Hilltop Train Station! It took Philly Dispatch forever to figure out what county the call was supposed to be transferred to, and by the time they finally dispatched to your PD, it was hours later. The worst part is, the cops never bothered looking because they assumed it was a hoax and they were all tied up on some kind of aggressive DUI detail." Frank shook his head and said, "Jesus." "Exactly! Now they're waiting for the medical examiner to identify the bodies. If it turns out one of them actually was an FBI agent? Wow, heads are gonna roll." "I'm almost glad to be getting out." The doctor set the chart down and said, "I can't blame you. And that's where the good news comes in. Based on my examination and a review of your medical records, I'm recommending you for full disability, effective immediately. You'll be collecting seventy-five percent of your salary for sitting at home from now on, my friend." Frank nodded and tried to look more pleased than the doctor's words made him feel. "Will I still be able to do other things? I don't want to have to spend the rest of my life pretending to be a cripple." "Sure you can do other things. You can even get another job as long as it doesn't require strenuous physical labor. And don't join any basketball leagues." Frank stuck out his hand and said, "Well, I guess that's that, doc." "I'll schedule another appointment with you in a few weeks just to keep things above board. Will you see Marcus any time soon?" "Today, in fact. I'm helping him with a court case." "Excellent. Tell him he owes me a rematch on the golf course. Do you play?" "No," Frank said. "Well now have all the time in the world to learn." Frank told the doctor goodbye and headed out of his office, going down the hall toward the reception area to leave. He didn't notice any pain in his knee, at least, not any more than usual. Maybe I've just grown used to it over the past few years, he thought. Maybe he'd been fooling himself all this time by sucking it up and pretending that he had to press on and continue to protect and serve. Or, maybe you're a nothing more than a conniving freeloader now, something said in the back of his mind. He walked past a skinny girl no older than twenty. Her arms were bruised and she had large empty holes in her ears, stretched out loops of skin with no tribal disks in them. She handed the secretary a handful of dirty cash and the secretary was issuing her a receipt. Frank walked out the door and said, "I wasn't born to do just this." He went to his car and sat down, gripping the steering wheel. "I have more to offer. I can learn new things, and I'll do them just as good." The doctor's front door opened as the girl came racing out, waving a small white prescription in the air happily at the driver of a rusted station wagon parked next to Frank. The dirtbag behind the wheel waved for her to hurry up and get in. She kissed him as soon as she got in, but he pushed her away and jammed on the gas, burning tires as he peeled out of the parking lot. They'll be at the pharmacy in five minutes, Frank thought. Crushing the pills up to snort them or shoot them in six. But these are the things I don't notice anymore. These are the things about which I no longer have to care.
