It was a moment of truth. I took a deep breath and walked purposefully down the hallway to the bathroom. Shirtless and focused, I came up on Ray, who was still talking through the door to Jimmy. All the evidence available told me Jimmy was still crying and babbling. He was apparently convinced he was gay. This had somehow been brought on by his belief that he had gotten very turned on when Ray was about to take his pants off.
"You need to leave," I told Ray.
"I'm not going anywhere," Ray told me as he turned to face me. "I haven't fucked your girlfriend yet."
"And you're not going to," I told him calmly. "Get the fuck out of my apartment. I'll deal with Jimmy. He's my friend and I know how to talk to him."
"No," spat Ray. "Now fuck off so I can talk to Jimmy."
I pushed Ray up against the wall. He pushed me back hard enough to send me sprawling into the laundry room. Luckily, I landed on a pile of sheets I hadn't yet gotten around to washing, and was able to hop back up on my feet with relative ease.
"You shouldn't have done that," I said, gritting my teeth.
I pulled my right arm back, almost dislocating my shoulder in the process, let out a bloodcurdling yell, and punched Ray in the face as hard as I could.
"Fuck, dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?" he yelled as he fell back against the wall, blood pouring out of his nose.
"I asked you nicely to get out of my apartment. The party is over and you are no longer wanted here."
"I brought pizza," he said.
"Yeah, and no one actually ate any of it. Take your stupid cheese slides off the slice too easily pizza and GET OUT!"
Muttering obscenities, Ray stood up and started walking back to the living room. He looked at Erica, still naked on the couch. She stretched out her arm and pointed towards the door while glaring at him.
"This shit is fucked up," he said. "I'm done with you weird ass fucking people."
"Good," I said with my strongest tone of voice. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out."
"My hero," Erica said with a smile as she looked at me.
"One down, one to go," I said after Ray walked out and slammed the door hard behind him.
I walked back to the bathroom door and knocked on it.
"Who is it?" replied Jimmy's voice.
"It's Keith. Are you okay in there?"
"I think I'm gay, man. I can't deal with that shit."
"Well, you need to go try to deal with it somewhere else. I think you're just freaking out and if you go home and go to sleep you will wake up tomorrow morning and realize you just had some kind of panic attack because you're homophobic. Now, open the door before I kick it down and have to send you the bill for the time and materials it will take to repair it."
Jimmy was silent for a minute or two. I waited patiently, hoping he would do the right thing, and slowly the doorknob began to turn. The door popped open and Jimmy gradually pulled it open.
"You don't think I'm gay?" Jimmy asked.
"First of all, it isn't that big of a deal if you are. So what if you're gay. Second of all, I know I'm your best friend, but I really need you to leave so Erica and I can deal with some shit of our own."
"You're being like weirdly assertive, man. Are you on drugs?"
"No, I'm not on drugs. Now, please collect your shit and leave. I'll call you tomorrow."
"I don't want to be gay," Jimmy cried. "I'm not attracted to men."
"Are you even aware of what being gay means?" I sighed. "Just go home, please."
Jimmy nodded quietly and walked out to the living room. He collected his belongings and slowly walked out to the door. He opened it, looked out, and then turned around.
"Um, I came with Ray and he's gone."
"Well, he couldn't have gotten far. Call him on your cell phone or get a cab or something," I told him as I pushed him out the door, closed it behind him, then locked it and set the deadbolt.
"Wow," Erica said. Her eyes had lit up and she was smiling at me in a way she'd never smiled at me before. "You can do things when you're properly motived, can't you?"
"I didn't want you to be unhappy," I told her as I looked down at the floor. "They were making you unhappy, so they had to leave."
"Is your hand okay?" she asked as she got up, still completely naked, and cautiously took my right hand in her hands. "It is swelling up big time, and two of your fingers look all twisted. I think you broke your hand."
I looked down at it, felt woozy, and passed out.
When I came to in the emergency room, a man who didn't appear to be an employee of the hospital was hovering over me, leaning over my hospital bed, his face no more than three feet away from mine.
"Hello! I'm glad you're awake! You broke two fingers in your hand and your wrist and we're going to have to take you in for surgery!"
"Get out of the way, Linus," someone else's voice said. A man in a lab coat with a stethoscope around his neck appeared. Behind him, two men in scrubs were grabbing the arms of the man who had been hovering over me and forcefully leading him out of the room.
"Are you the doctor?" I asked.
"Yes, I am. Sorry about Linus, he gets out of the psych ward a little too often for my tastes. Now, he was right, you did break two fingers and your wrist. We'll have you patched up in no time."
After they brought me into another room and set my broken bones and gave me copious amounts of prescription painkillers, they put me in a wheelchair and wheeled me out to the waiting area where Erica was flirting with a male nurse. She was dressed relatively conservatively, with sweatpants and a sweatshirt and sneakers, but she exchanged phone numbers with the male nurse regardless.
"Hey!" she said when she saw me. "You lived!"