48. Didnt think itd hurt
Didn't think it'd hurt
Elena
“I don’t have the patience for this today,” I snap at Cynthia.
She’s been doing so good about getting her homework done right after school, I don’t even know if I should be picking this fight.
Except I know that she barely passed her last math test and desperately needs to do her practice problems.
It’s just that I slept like shit last night.
I’m pretty sure I undercooked a piece of chicken I made myself at lunch yesterday, because I was queasy by three in the morning.
Today I’m opting for a big salad for dinner, it’s safer.
“Grandpa had to drive to Missoula for a part for the tractor, so I have to take care of Trixie. She gets a flake of alfalfa in the morning and the evening. Plus one scoop of grain.” Her fists dig into her hips defiantly.
“I don’t have a problem with you feeding her. What I have a problem with is that you’ll spend the rest of the evening out there with her and not do what you’re supposed to do.” A wave of nausea has me setting down my knife.
The tomatoes I’m slicing look suddenly gross. Did one go bad and I caught a whiff?
Her hand flies up and she starts ticking off fingers as she counts. “I did my chores. My laundry is put away. My lunch for tomorrow is already made. I swear I’ll do my homework later. It gets dark out so early now, I can’t hang out in the barn.”
“Okay. But I’m gonna hold you to it.” I squint one eye so she knows I’m serious.
She tugs her baseball hat low over her eyes, then runs outside.
I finally finish the tomatoes and get started on the green onions when my phone rings in my back pocket.
After a quick wipe, I dig it out.
“Hi, daddy. Dinner’s almost ready.” I glance at the mushrooms and weigh putting them in.
They don’t sound appealing.
“I can’t talk long. I just got on scene to a three car accident, so I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up. Love you, bye.” He clicks to end the call before I can reply.
This isn’t the first time it’s happened. I know it won’t be the last.
Does it get easier knowing he’s putting himself out there?
It’s not like I didn’t know what he did when I met him.
Tears sting my eyes looking at the array of food in front of me.
Damn onions.
The house suddenly feels empty knowing he won’t be walking in the door any second.
It’s fine. Everything is fine.
I’ll put in the mushrooms. I know he likes them.
Busying myself with preparing him a plate to put in the fridge helps me focus.
But when I shut the door, there’s a weird sound coming from it.
Wait.
I open and close it, yet the noise doesn’t change.
Except it’s getting louder.
Fuck, it’s outside.
Running out onto the porch, it’s obvious now.
Cynthia.
She’s howling in pain, staggering as she tries to run towards me.
Oh shit.
Without pausing, I take off in a sprint, oblivious of my bare feet on the frozen ground.
“What happened?” I’m yelling before I even reach her.
“I—I—I fell,” she sobs.
That’s when I see her cradling her left arm against her chest, her wrist at an odd angle.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” I run my hands quickly up her shoulders, but I don’t see anything that’s glaring.
“No. Don’t touch. I just wanna sit down.” Her shuddering breathing chops her words.
My heart races as I walk with her, helping her inside to perch on one of the kitchen chairs.
Grabbing a plastic bag, I fill it quickly with ice and wrap it with a small towel. “Here, put this on it. We’re gonna have to get you to the hospital.”
She winces when the cold pack touches her, but bites her lip.
“Can you tell me exactly how you fell?” I squat in front of her so she can see me easily.
“Um, I was up on the fence. Trixie was standing there eating and I thought I could just sit on her back for a minute while she stood there.”
“‘Thia,” I groan. “You know better than to try and ride her alone.”
She sits up a little straighter. “I’ve done it tons of times. It wasn’t her fault, I swear. My sweatshirt snagged a nail.” She holds up her right arm to show the torn hole. “And she just kinda took a step sideways.”
Her good hand flies up to stop my reply. “She didn’t spook, Elena. She was so perfect. She just stood there.”
“I’m not upset at your horse. That’s good she behaved. Just imagine how much worse it could have been if she freaked out?” There’s a teeny, tiny, silver lining.
I have to call Wade.
Her red eyes water as she rocks herself, watching me bring up his number.
Come on, pick up.
Voicemail.
“Wade, I think Cynthia broke her wrist. You need to call me back.” I end the call, and immediately hit redial.
Again no answer.
“Fuck.”
“Where’s Dad?” Her chin trembles in a stoic effort to calm herself.
“He’s on an accident scene. He said he was going to be late getting home.” I hate this.
She needs to be seen by a doctor.
Her brows work into a knot. “Should we wait until he gets back?”
That’s the big question.
I’m supposed to get this monitor off on Monday. It’s the only thing making me hesitate.
Can I see her suffer?
No. I’ve done much worse than violating parole for her.
My head shakes as I stand. “I’m not going to sit here and watch you be in pain for six hours.”
Sending Wade a rapid text of what’s happening, I hope he can get it in time.
I grab my keys and coat, then help her wrap her jacket around her shoulder.
This is the first time I’ve driven my Jeep since I got it back last week.
I didn’t think it’d be like this.
Luckily, there isn’t anyone in the waiting room when we get there.
A nurse with kind brown eyes pushes open the door to the ER. “Cynthia Rowland?”
“That’s me.” My sister has a dull glaze when she stands.
It makes me sick knowing how badly she’s hurting.
“My name is Maggie. I just need you to step on that scale real quick.” The nurse pauses, pointing to the small platform.
Cynthia steps up dutifully to be weighed, then we both follow Maggie into a curtained off area.
I check my texts again, but it looks like Wade hasn’t seen them yet.
It makes a knot form in my throat.
When the fabric wall is pushed open, Dixon blinks for a second before striding in and sitting on the rolling stool near the stretcher. “Well hi, Cynthia. I heard you hurt your wrist. Can I take a look?”
She wrinkles her nose. “I’m confused. You’re a doctor?”
His dark mustache pulls up in a smile. “I am. A good one, I promise.”
Holding her arm out carefully, she answers all of his questions and only tries to jerk away once when he touches an angry looking bump above the joint.
“X-rays it is. I’d say with about ninety-nine percent accuracy it’s broken, but let the pictures tell us how badly and where. Think you can do that?” Dixon rolls back, jotting down a note on the clipboard in his lap.
Cynthia raises her chin and sets her jaw, then nods.
“You’re lucky it isn’t busy. We should have you home in no time.” He pulls the curtain closed when he leaves.
“I didn’t know,” she whispers.
“Does it make it easier knowing him?” I say in hushed tones in reply.
“Yea. He knows Trixie really well. So I’m glad he won’t be mad at her.” She almost looks relieved.
“‘Thia, I know it wasn’t her fault. I’m just worried that you’ll get hurt again.” I reach out and rest my palm on her knee.
Her forehead furrows. “Please don’t make me get rid of her. I love her. Grandpa got her for me. Don’t you see? I’ve never had anything that was mine .” She takes rapid breaths with her rising voice.
“I never said that. I just love you and don’t like seeing you in pain.” I hope one day she understands just how far I’d go for her.
She’s fighting the tears when Maggie pops her head through the slit. “Follow me, kiddo.”I stand up too, but she holds up her palm.
“Nope, you stay here. I know Cynthia is tough enough to have her picture taken on her own.” Maggie gives me a practiced smile.
“I’ll be fine. I’m practically a teenager.” Cynthia disappears after Maggie, leaving me alone to consider what she said.
Yes, she is twelve now, going on twenty.
But I remember when she was born. And then how fiercely I had to fight to protect her from the creeps Mom brought around.
Not to mention the shit I did once she was gone.
It makes my stomach roll.
Crap.
Bile forces its way up, gagging me.
Scrambling for the garbage, I narrowly make it before I’m heaving up my meager lunch onto some discarded latex gloves.
“Elena?” Dixon stands next to me. “Are you okay?”
Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I glance up to see his worried expression.
“This just is a lot,” I croak, waving my arm in a general circle.
His jaw tics. “Are you prone to vomiting when you’re stressed?”
I shake my head, worried I’m going to hurl again.
He squats his huge frame next to me. “Are you pregnant?” he asks quietly.
I freeze, wide eyed, and stare at him.
“I don’t know.” There’s definitely a chance.
It’s not like Wade and I have used any protection.
He curls his finger, gesturing me to follow.
When he reaches the counter, he grabs a plastic cup with a lid. “Go pee. We’ll check while she’s in x-ray.”
This is crazy.
Dixon ducks to catch my eyes. “I won’t tell. It’s up to you.”
I can’t say anything for fear I’m going to puke again.
Wordlessly, I go into the sterile hospital bathroom and open the top of the small container.
This can’t be real.
Somehow, I manage to get almost half an inch in it before I dribble on my fingers.
Gross.
As I’m cleaning up, I splash some cold water on my face. It kinda helps settle my belly.
He picks it up with a gloved hand. “Go sit down. I’ll be back in just a few minutes with some ginger ale and crackers.”
“Thank you.”
It’s an eternity until he returns with a soda and snacks.
“Congratulations, momma.” He gives me a genuine smile before he leaves.
I need Wade.
Should I text him and tell him?
The anxiety boils in me, threatening to have me bending over the trash can again.
I’ll wait and tell him later.
After Cynthia is taken care of.
I’m half a sleeve of stale Saltines down when she finally is brought back.
And thankfully my tummy has settled as well.
“Can I have one?” She shuffles her butt to sit up on the stretcher again.
Nodding, I toss the rest of the package next to her leg. “How’d it go?”
“No big deal.” Her bravado slips into a wince when she bumps her injured wrist.
The curtain whisks open a few minutes later.
“Well, it looks like you have two small fractures,” Dixon announces. “We’ll get you splinted up, then you’ll need to follow up with orthopedics in a few days for a cast. But I think you’ll fully recover without issue.”
“At least it isn’t my drawing hand,” she exhales.
It doesn’t take long to get her all wrapped up.
He was right, he is a pretty good doctor.
We’re sent home with a few papers detailing what she can do to help with the pain, and a phone number to follow up with.
When we walk in the door, she stops to turn to me. “Elena, can I just go to bed? Are you gonna be angry if I don’t do my homework tonight?”
“Of course not!” I pull her in for a gentle hug. “I’m not mad. You were so brave today.” I press my lips to her temple. “I’ll get you a snack.”
As I dig into the refrigerator for some carrot sticks to go along with peanut butter, I bump my ankle monitor against the door.
Maybe there’s an allowance to go to the hospital?
Or maybe I really am lucky?
Either way, I don’t regret taking her.
Now I can’t wait to tell Wade the big news.