Reading Time:
14 Minutes

Chapter 1

Four men halted their conversation and exchanged nervous looks when they heard the front door of their frat house open.  They had all given hopeful words and put on encouraging faces when their brother had left this morning for his doctor’s appointments, but none of them actually expected good news.  They all had watched Tony diligently perform his physical therapy exercises yet get diminishing returns as the weeks, then months, passed.  Today was the final assessment to see if anything could be done to improve the mobility of Tony’s knee.

Jacob entered the living area, Tony not trailing behind, and there were grimaces, huffs, and hands running over faces.  The others looked at each other, wondering who was going to be the one to actually ask.  Jacob collapsed onto the sofa and slouched back, letting his had fall back to stare at the ceiling.  “Go on.  Get it over with,” he said glumly.

Michael was the one to brave the question everyone actually didn’t need answered.  “It was bad news?”

“Eh,” Jacob answered and half-heartedly waved his right hand from where it rested on his knee.  “I guess one could say there was some good news.  The skin has healed great from the surgery.  Given time to fade, they will hardly be visible.  The bone fractures all healed perfectly.  The meniscus tear healed great.  The ligaments are all attached firmly and the grafts are solid.”

Michael kicked out knocked the toe of Jacob’s shoe.  “But?” he asked in irritation.

Jacob let out a heavy sigh.  “But.  Yeah.  There’s always a but, isn’t there?”

“Is there anything they can do?” Michael pressed.

“No,” Jacob said, short and bitter, aching for his brother.

“But athletes come back from torn ACLs all the time,” Zach protested.  “He just needs a few more months, right?  It’s only been six months and it can take a year, right?”

“You know it’s not just the ACL, Zach,” Jacob said.  “It was the PCL, MCL, and LCL, too.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” Zach said with a sigh.  “Front, back, left, and right.”

“Anterior and posterior cruciate and medial and lateral collateral ligaments,” Jacob corrected.  “Plus the meniscus tear.”

“Yes, Dr. Innes,” Mike said while Zach just rolled his eyes.  He huffed a laugh when Jacob gave him a rude gesture.

“Zach’s not wrong, though,” Steven said.  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of someone not recovering from a knee injury.  Mabe not pro athlete level, but not like what Tony’s experiencing.”

Jacob rolled his head where it lay on the couch, still tilted towards the ceiling.  “It’s true that 95% of all knee reconstruction surgery is successful.  But there’s still that 5%.  There was a lot of damage done to the knee.  The surgeon was great, but there was probably some surrounding tissue damage that wasn’t found because of all the swelling at the time.  Maybe that could be found and repaired now and maybe not.  They used bits of his hamstring in the repairs – that’s pretty common – but it’s left him with weakness in the hamstring that’s not going away with physical therapy.  He’s also been unable to achieve full motion – that’s what’s causing the pain with too much use – and that’s also not getting better.  The surgeon thinks the placement of the repairs is just a little off and not working in conjunction with each other like they used to.  Maybe a revision surgery could fix that, maybe not.  If it was just his ACL, that would be the likely recommendation, but with all four?  There’s no indication which ligament is the problem, or if it’s more than one, and going in to fix something just might make it worse.  Plus, well,” Jacob blew out breath.

“Well, what? Don’t leave us hanging, here,” Zach demanded then batted away Steven’s hand when he got poked in the side.  “What, you know you want to know!”

“Don’t be rude,” Steven said, giving Zach another poke.

“There’s nerve damage,” Jacob stated baldly to avert the impending fight.  “They had hopes that it would heal, and it has to a large extent, but not fully.  It’s causing proprioception issues.  His body is not fully aware of his lower leg.  That’s not going to get better, either.”

“That’s the limp?” Zach asked.

“No, that’s the clumsiness,” Theo chimed in from the armchair.  “Not picking up his foot all the way.  Placing it wrong.  Stuff like that.”

Jacob nodded and gave another half-hearted hand wave towards Theo.  “What he said.”

“This sucks,” Steve said slumping back and shoving his feet under the coffee table.

“Yeah, brother, it sure does,” Theo said, also slumping back.  “So, in summary…”

“You always have to summarize,” Mike complained.

“Shut up, Mike,” was chorused by three others.

“In summary,” Theo said again, sending a glare at Mike.  “Reduced strength, reduced mobility, and reduced awareness.  Forever.”

Jacob nodded and flicked a finger towards Theo.  “What he said.”

Everyone was silent for several long moments.

“So what do we do?” Theo asked, then raised a challenging eyebrow when everyone stared at him.

~Pasta!~

“Gather, my brothers!  I have food and beer!” Zach announced loudly as he entered the living area dragging an old, beat up, red Radio Flyer wagon overloaded with boxes and bags.  “I dropped by High Street and picked us up some good beer!  I’ve got a case each of pilsner, lager, stout, and pale ale.  And made a quick stop for a case of Coors because Mike is a weirdo.”

“Fuck off,” Mike said with a grin, striding over to pick up the case of Coors.  He hauled it over to sit next to his usual spot at the end of the couch.

“Christ, Zach, that’s enough beer to keep us drunk the whole night,” Jacob said, also grinning his way over to the red wagon.

“That’s not a complaint,” Zach sing-songed back as he watched Jacob lay claim to the case of pilsner.

“We’re done with school, we’re all graduating, we can stay drunk the whole night if we want,” Mike said, hauling up the stout from the wagon.  “And I love that plan.  Finals were a bitch.”

“I hear that,” Theo said, coming in from the hallway and picking up the lager and stout on his way to his claimed armchair.  “Come on, Steve.  Get off your lazy ass and pick up the last case.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Steve said and pulled himself from the middle of the couch.  “What’s in the bags?”

“I dropped by Olive Garden and picked us up some chicken alfredo and tiramisu,” Zach said proudly.  “And salads.  Because I wasn’t risking soup in my car.  And garlic bread, of course.”

“You did what?”

Everyone turned to see Tony in the doorway to the kitchen, looking furious.

“Picked up celebratory dinner and beer!” Zach said with a grin.  “Since you’re by the kitchen, get us some forks and knives, yeah?  And napkins.”

“Like hell I will!” Tony bit out.  “You sorry mother fucker!  How dare you!”

“Jeez, man, what’s your trip?” Zach asked angrily.

“You brought that mass-produced shit pasta into this house?!” Tony protested, half yelling with anger.  “And don’t even get me started on the tiramisu!  How fucking dare you?!”

“We’ve been talking about this dinner all week and now you’re bitching?!” Zach half-yelled back.

“Nobody said a damned thing about pasta,” Tony ground out.  “I make the pasta in this house.  We practically swore a blood oath over it!  Everyone promised to not bring in that mass-produced boxed shit.”

“You haven’t done shit in the kitchen for weeks!” Zach protested, waving a hand angrily towards the kitchen.  “I asked around and we decided on chicken alfredo.  I wasn’t going to hope you’d decided to finally give a fuck so I bought some.  Now you don’t have to stand and make pasta and make your knee ache.  A little appreciation here, asshole.”

“Fuck you,” Tony replied angrily.  “If you wanted chicken alfredo, you could have told me!  Not bought tasteless noodles with some unknown base mix sauce!”

“Fuck you,” Zach argued back equally angrily, pointing back towards the entrance to the hallway that let to the bedrooms.  “You’ve barely left your room the whole damn week!”

“And you fucking bought tiramisu?!  That shit’s even worse!” Tony yelled, ignoring the accusation of isolation.  He pointed an accusing finger at Zach and hissed out, “Whatever commercial chain-serving bakery they’re using obviously doesn’t use good coffee, good cream, good vanilla, or any alcohol at all!  That shit can barely lay claim to being tiramisu at all!  And did you buy marsala to go with it while you were on your beer run?  We’re not having beer with dessert!”

Zach rolled his eyes and waved dismissively.  “I can go buy a bottle of wine if you’re going to be a bitch about it.”

Tony pursed his and took in a long, loud breath through his nose.  He narrowed his eyes at his frat brother and curled his fists.  “You get that shit out of this house.  And go buy two bottles or wine.  Dinner will be ready in two hours.”  He turned back towards the kitchen and took a step then twisted around enough to give Zach a glare.  “And it better be the good wine, asshole.”  He turned back and walked into the kitchen and slammed the door behind him.

Everyone was quiet for several moments before Mike started snickering.  “Good job, Zach.  Totally Oscar worthy.”

Zach smirked and took a mocking bow.  “Thank you, thank you.”

“You didn’t really buy food from Olive Garden, did you?” Steve asked, eyeing the bags he was standing beside, then picking up the last case of beer.  “I’m just glad that worked.”

“Hell no,” Zach snorted.  “I wasn’t wasting that kind of money.  And we knew it would work.  Pissing him off always works.”

“You already get the wine?  Or do we need to make that run?” Theo asked, pulling open one of the ends of the case of lager.

“I got it,” Zach answered with a nod.  “Three bottles, actually, because I know the bottle he uses for cooking is almost empty.”

“Too bad about the salads, though,” Mike said, following Theo’s example and opening the case of Coors.  “That’d have been nice.”

Zach waved at the bags.  “I got lettuce and stuff for salads.  Plus ciabatta rolls from that bakery we like.  And the good olive oil.  And snacks.  Because I didn’t have lunch and I’m starving right now and I can’t wait two hours for dinner.”

“Oh, me too,” Jacob said, standing up after opening the case of pilsner and coming back to the wagon.  He picked up all the bags and turned back to the coffee table.  “Put away the wagon and I’ll get the snacks opened.”

“Yeah, sure,” Zach said, pulling the last bag out of the red wagon, obviously wine bottles, and putting it to this side before turning and dragging the wagon behind him.  “Be right back.”

~~Pasta!~~

“God, this is good,” Jacob groaned after taking a bite of the tiramisu.

“Of course it is,” Tony said, waving his fork and taking a sip of wine.  “I don’t make shit desserts.”

“God’s truth,” Jacob said, closing his eyes in bliss and ignoring the snickering of his frat brothers.

Tony took another sip of wine and stabbed his fork towards his brothers.  “You assholes set this up, didn’t you?  I had all the ingredients somehow.”

“Yeah, of course,” Zach said, leaning back in his chair with his wine glass.  “You’ve been a morose, pouty little bitch the last few weeks.  We had to stage some kind of intervention to get you out of your depression.”

“Fuck you,” Tony said without heat and took another sip of wine.

“Slow down on the wine,” Jacob said, giving Tony an assessing look.  “That’s your second glass.”

“Fuck you,” Tony said again, but did put down his glass and took a bit of dessert.  “And I have every reason to be depressed.  I’ve just spent my whole college career preparing for a primary and secondary career that are now impossible.  Hurray!”

“Don’t be a sarcastic asshole,” Mike said, refilling his and Tony’s glass despite Jacob’s glare.  “You’re a smart guy.  There’re tons of things you could do.  Hell, maybe you can make chicken alfredo and tiramisu for a living.”

Tony rolled his eyes and took a sip of wine, also ignoring Jacob’s glare.  “I’ll just, what, get a job at OIive Garden?  Be real.”

“I dunno.  I think it could work,” Theo said, licking his fork.  “You make all those weird pasta shapes.  I bet you could open a boutique or something.  Tony’s Fancy Pasta.”

“With what?” Tony asked with a bitter laugh.  “You know I’ve got practically no savings at all.  I was going to live with and mooch off Mike’s family while attending the Illinois police academy when I was done with the pro football thing.”

“You can still live with us,” Mike said firmly.  “Hell, my mom would adopt you if you made dinner most nights.  Feeding six men is no picnic.  And my whole family loves pasta.”

Tony looked startled at that.

“What?” Mike asked, looking offended.  “You thought I would rescind the offer because of your knee?  Asshole.”

“No, not that,” Tony said, shaking his head.  “I guess I didn’t think about it.  And we had planned that I wouldn’t arrive until all your younger brothers were out of the house.  Would you guys even have room right now for me?”

Mike shrugged, then grinned a little meanly.  “Sure.  Bunk beds exist, you know.  I’ll take the top bunk.”

Tony rolled his eyes at the snickers around the table.  “Thanks, man,” he said softly then smiled a bit when he felt Mike tap his foot in acknowledgement.

“You could find something in sports and recreation,” Steve piped in.  “You know, actually using that first degree?  I know you planned on using the second one in Criminal Justice, but why not use the first one?  I know you don’t want to teach kids, but there are tons of places that have recreation programs for adults you could look into.  Hell, resorts always have that type of thing.  You could live in style.”

“Maybe,” Tony said with a grimace, that option not immediately appealing.  “My bigger problem is that I need a new car because my knee can’t handle pushing in the clutch all the time with a stick shift.  And I still need physical therapy and my student insurance is going away.  So I’ve got to figure out how to pay for that, too.  New car, medical bills and no income.  College success right there.”

“Stop being a depressing asshole,” Jacob demanded, taking a break from his enjoyment of the tiramisu and pointing his fork at his brother.  “We can find you a car easy enough.  And you don’t need to go to physical therapy; you just need to continue it.  We got the whole year-long plan from Dr. Bettes and you can do all that stuff on your own and you know it.”

Tony sighed but nodded and took a bite of dessert.

“You could always marry someone with insurance if you really want to actually go,” Theo said idly, cutting himself another piece of tiramisu.

“What?!”  Tony gasped out, grabbing a napkin to cough out bits of tiramisu.

“I’m just saying,” Theo said with a shrug.  “You get along with everybody.  An arranged marriage of convenience wouldn’t be too much of a hardship.  You could always divorce later if it really doesn’t work out.”

Tony just stared open-mouthed in astonishment.

“You got someone in mind?” Mike asked curiously.

“Wait, wait, wait!  I’m not getting married!” Tony spluttered out.

“Well, my mom’s looking for a nice young stud,” Theo said with a grin.

“I’m not marrying your mother!” Tony denied vehemently, appalled at the thought.

“She’s got a great job that has great insurance,” Theo said, still grinning.  “She’s only fourteen years older than us – as awful as that is – and you’ve dated women older than her.  And you know she’s hot.  And she likes you.  She’d go for it.”

“No!” Tony refused, waving both hands.  “I am not marrying your mother!”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Jacob said thoughtfully.  “Especially if you end up needing another surgery in a few years.”

“What?!  No!” Tony nearly shrieked.  “I’m not marrying anybody’s mother!  What the fuck is wrong with you guys?!”

“What about Ophelia?”

Everyone stared at Steve.

“You met her last year and you guys really hit it off,” Steve said, looking like he was thinking through logistics of getting two people married as fast as possible.  “It would actually help her a lot, too.  She needs a husband sooner than later.  We were talking about it just last week.”

Tony took a sip of wine and glared at Steve.  “Your cousin is bad ass and doesn’t need a husband to succeed.”

Steve tapped his fork on his plate, looking a combination of sad and angry.  “Actually, she does.  She’s had a couple accusations levied against her about being a lesbian.  They haven’t gone anywhere, but it’s only a matter of time before someone manufactures something to force her out of the Navy.  Hopefully just discharged and not jailed.  A husband would solve that for her.”

“That’s bullshit,” Tony bit out, offended on Ophelia’s behalf.

“Sure,” Steve said bitterly.  “It’s not even true.  But that hardly matters to some people.  You know some men just hate competent women that show them up.  And the military hates homosexuals.”

“Christ, Steve, that’s awful,” Theo said with a grimace.  Mike and Jacob murmured agreement, looking equally upset.

“Just think about it,” Steve said and took a sip of wine.  “Mutual assistance isn’t a bad reason to get married.  And you did like each other.”

“It’s a better reason than pregnancy,” Mike muttered.  Everyone made faces at that but nodded.

“Enough,” Tony said firmly and pulled the tiramisu dish towards himself.  “Let’s talk about nice things.  Like how we’re done with school.  Except Jacob.”

“Residency is not the same thing!” Jacob protested, willingly perpetuating the frequent argument in order to lighten the mood.

The frat brothers continued to talk and bicker, celebrating their success and talking about future plans.  They talked around Tony’s current issues, keeping it light-hearted, but rejoiced in successfully getting him re-engaged with life.  That had been the biggest battle, and they’d won it.  They knew he’d thrive somehow.  They would all make sure of it.  That’s what brothers were for.