So the guy who asked for my phone number last Tuesday night? He called. Care to know why no one won the bet? Here’s the explanation.
My phone rings. The name says “Fez aka ‘Joel'” on the face plate. Quite frankly, I was rather stunned.
Fez: Hello? Carly?
Me: That’s me.
Fez: Carly, this is Joel.
Me: Right. Fez. How are you?
Fez: Good question. I wanted to call you and tell you why I didn’t call you the other night.
At this point, I recognized his voice as somewhat feeble and weak.
Me: Don’t worry about it.
Fez: Well, I wanted to call, but I’m kind of… well… I was in the hospital.
Me: The hospital??
Fez: Yeah… Actually, I still am.
Me: Oh my goodness! What happened?!
Fez: Um… A couple days after we met, I got locked out of my house. So I decided I’d try to climb in through a window. What ended up happening was my arm went through the glass and the glass… the glass went through my arm.
Me: Are you serious?! Will you be ok?!
Fez: Yeah, I’m going to be fine. I went through five hours of surgery, though. The doctors say I can’t drive for 6-8 weeks and that I’ll need therapy to get the function in my left hand back.
That’s when it occurred to me how incredibly devastated Fez probably was. He’s a guitar player and to lose the ability of an arm or hand would be very traumatic.
Me: Do you need anything? Does your family need help? My friends and I will glady offer our services if you need it.
Fez: Uh… Well, not really. I mean, thank you! But I think I leave the hospital tomorrow. But I’ll definitely let you know if anything should come up.
Me: Tell you what. I’ll call you on Monday to see how you’re feeling. If you’re feeling better and if you’re up to it, maybe you can come hang out with me and some friends like before. I don’t mind giving you the ride.
Fez: You’re pretty far up north…
Me: It’s totally fine. No one can go 6-8 weeks without hanging with some friends. So I’ll call you on Monday?
Fez: Yeah. Definitely.
Me: Great. Feel better ok? And call if you need anything.
Maybe I like him. Maybe I’m hoping to get to know him better. And maybe my intentions are undertoned with romanticism. In any case, if I nearly lost my arm in an accident such as that, I wouldn’t mind the help from nearly-perfect strangers. And something tells me that he would have done the same for me. And that’s all that counts.