Freya has been in a constant state of giggle fits. She had woken up to Harry Rayburn by her side with a look of concern, though to her it looked like he had four heads. From there, all she really remembered was Harry, Ripley, and her mother being near her at all times and her hands being so heavily bandanged she wasn't even sure her hands were in there anymore. Between the questions from every which way about what had happened to her and her own fuzzy memory, she was in a state of confusion. The pain meds didn't make it any easier, because her head wandered a hundred miles a minute. Everything was funny. Everything was sad. Everything was interesting. If only her attention span could've matched her ability to laugh for ten minutes straight. Maybe then she'd be aware at the actual seriousness of the situation.
Words were said like "nerve damage" and "phalanges". All these big medical terms that Freya didn't know, but when it was mentioned, Harry and Ripley showed concern and their eyes would dart to Freya with a sort of pity frown. Being out of the hospital had been better than she had imagined. Minus the fact that she literally could do nothing for herself. Even hopped up on the strongest pain killers the doctor was allowed to prescribe orally, Freya still felt bad that the two men in her life and her mother were now her personal slaves. What surprised her the most, were the lengths that Harry and Ripley were willing to go through to help her. To make her feel comfortable. Not that she didn't know they cared about her, but for the first few days they treated her like they'd taken her for granted for the last eight years. Which wasn't true, and it made Freya wonder what the hell they might've known about her weird injury that she didn't.
The real savior was her mother. The ever doting Mary, the cocktail waitress from Vegas. She had spent the last few weeks making Freya's favorite meals (though it was Harry and Ripley who benefitted since Freya threw up most solid foods because of the pain killers), answering Freya's bathroom breaks, and even showering her grown daughter. There really were no words for the gratitude Freya felt for the people in her life. At first, she was sure that her mother's presence at the house 24/7 would drive everyone there out of their minds, but it become somewhat nice. If she could push past the constant questions about which one of the men in her life was her actual boyfriend, having her mother around just made her feel complete. They cuddled and watched Hallmark movies. They did puzzles (or well, Freya would point to the pieces that fit), and her mom had gone clothes shopping and put on a mock runway show for her. There was nothing quite like the fashion choices of a Vegas lady. Although she knew that it had been mostly because she was hurt, Freya had been so happy to have spent time with her mother.
Which was why she was confused when she got up Monday morning and saw her mother's bags packed and waiting by the door. "Mom?" She called out, finding her in the kitchen making Freya one of the smoothies she liked. "Why are your bags packed? Are you going to stay at my place?" Even though she lived with Harry and Ripley, she still had her own apartment for god only knew what reason. "No, sweetie. I have to go back to Vegas. I've already missed two weeks of work and you know that Steve always makes backhanded comments when I take off of work." The change in Freya's demeanor must have been obvious. "Freya, what's wrong?" Her mother's face showed her own concern and bit of confusion. Normally Freya was pushing her mom out the door because she drove her crazy. "I don't want you to go, mom. Who's going to help me in the bathroom? Or in the shower?" She started, using her own disability as a way to try and guilt her into staying. "Sweetie, I don't know a lot. I'm not super genius smart like you or your daddy. But I know that those two men," Her mom pointed down the hallway to where Harry and Ripley's bedrooms were, "Are going to take care of you probably even better than I could. Because they love the hell out of you." The words hit her harder than she imagined and she wanted to argue with her mom, but she could just barely remember little moments from the last two weeks. Ripley learning to knit so he could finish Freya's current projects. Harry catching her trying to use the remote and then letting her use him as a pillow. Ripley buying every smoothie book from Barnes & Noble and then making nearly all of them for her. Harry answering her plea for him to help her in the shower and scrub her hair like she had lice. And not being snippy about it. Ripley and Harry both laying on either side of her taking turns reading her emails and sending ones back by typing what she said. And all of them falling asleep. Her mother was right. She was more than loved. She was lucky.