Blood Signs

Randall Stewart’s stomach growled as he flipped through his textbook. Concentrating on his paper was difficult as he struggled to work through his hunger. He was out of money until later in the week when funds from his student loan came through. The twenty in his pocket was going to have to last until Thursday, when he got his check.

“You gonna do something about that, man? It sounds like it’s going to escape and eat me,” Darren asked, laughing.

“Very funny,” Randy said to his roommate. He wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow. He hated Mondays. They were just the beginning of a long, hard week; served him right for going to medical school. At least this was his last year.

If he survived his clerkships.

Some of the physicians didn’t appreciate spending time on students while others went too far the other way and wanted to be your new best mentor.

Luckily he didn’t have anything on Sunday; it was the only time he didn’t have clerkships. Occasionally, he was on call with his intern, but it was rare.

Another stomach growl made him grimace.

An apple sailed through the air heading towards him. He caught it with one hand, biting into its thick flesh. Juice spilled down his chin, making him pause and wipe it with the back of his hand.

“Seriously, dude, haven’t you found a job yet?”

Randy shook his head at his roommate, not bothering to look away from his computer. “I’ve had a hard time finding one that’ll work around my schedule.” Randall’s last job for a catering company had a downturn with the economy so they had to let him go. For the past three weeks he’d been looking, but it had been next to impossible finding something else. “It’s hard to convince people to let you work odd hours when they can hire ten other people who can work whatever hours they want.”

“Why don’t you hit your parents up for cash?”

Randy laughed and even he could hear the bitter notes. “Not everyone’s parents are rolling in cash, like yours. My dad’s a farmer. Hell, I’m going to have to be some top-notch specialist in order to make enough to cover my student loans.”

He tried not to let the idea depress him. After finding out how much college and medical school cost, Randy almost gave up on the idea, but he’d been dreaming of being a doctor since he was five and got a toy stethoscope for Christmas. His parents supported him emotionally, but they barely had enough money to pay for the farm, much less medical school. He’d always had a rocky relationship with his father, but then his father was a tough bastard. Randy’s coming out of the closet didn’t change their relationship a bit.

When he left for college, Randy’s father gave him a box of condoms and told him not to come home with any diseases.

It was almost a tearjerker.

His mother had shaken her head and slipped him a hundred dollar bill. Unfortunately, that money was long gone for other expenses. College was fucking expensive.

“I’m going to have to do something soon, though, or I’m going to starve to death.” He’d been frugal but his medical school loans didn’t cover as much as his undergraduate degree loans. There were a lot of extras in medical school that ate up his food money. They never tell you that you’ll need copy packets that cost thirty dollars each, on top of your books.

Darren flashed Randy a smile that, if he didn’t know the man was as straight as a board, he might have taken as a come on. “I might be able to hook you up.”

He could almost see the bright yellow caution light flashing over his roommate’s head.

“Hook me up with what?”

“A job.”

“What kind of job?” As far as he knew Darren hadn’t worked a day in his life. His friend was getting a Masters in Fine Arts degree because Darren didn’t know what else to do with his drawing talent and his family would pay as long as he attended college doing something.

Before Randall could interrogate his roommate, a soft beep from his laptop told him it was time to check his glucose levels. With a sigh, he pulled out his kit. Removing a test strip, he pricked his finger and squeezed until a drop of blood fell on the strip. He put it in his meter and waited. The machine beeped and he let out a breath of relief.

Normal.

Diabetes was a vicious bitch.

“How often do you have to do that?” Darren asked.

Randall sighed as he answered the same question that Darren asked every couple of weeks. After two months of rooming together, Randall had came to the conclusion that Darren had absolutely no memory capability. “Once a day unless I feel like crap then I check it until my sugar levels off.”

“Huh. Wanna come with me tomorrow night?”

“Where to?”

Darren’s eyes flickered around their shared room like he didn’t know where to look.

“Where to, Darren?” He asked in a firmer tone. It wasn’t like his outgoing roommate to keep secrets. Darren was the type who liked to boast about anything he could and some things he shouldn’t.

“It’s easier to take you than to tell.”

“It’s not illegal, is it?” He didn’t need his Iowa farmer father coming to the police station to bail out his gay, stupid son. His father’s opinion of him was already low enough.

“No.” Darren said, meeting his eyes. “But it’s hard to explain. Which is why I want you to come with me.”

“Fine.” Randy said. After all, what did he have to lose? He needed a break from his homework, anyway.