7. Sunny
7
SUNNY
M y hands shook as I positioned the X-ray machine. They shook harder as I reviewed the films. The woman waiting in exam room one came in with a possible broken wrist, bruising all over her body. With Jackson out for the day and Carter slammed with his own patients, I tackled this case, but it challenged my ability to focus and remain detached personally.
That was one thing they taught you in nursing school—to feel compassion without allowing your emotions to affect your decision-making ability. Seeing those bruises on her arms, hip, and the side of her face, however, pulled at something deep inside my chest, gnawing at it.
I carried the old-school films back to the exam room, passing Carter and a teenage male patient in the hallway. He smiled, but the best I could do was offer a curt professional nod. So many strong feelings swarmed me as I walked back to show the patient her X-rays and let her know that luckily this time there was only bruising.
I knocked before I stepped into the room, and she looked up at me with a drooping, crooked smile. Her little girl sat on the chair next to her rather than on her knee at the exam table as before. Those bright blue curious eyes were the reason I never brought up my suspicion about this woman potentially being in a bad situation at home. It wasn’t the sort of topic you should bring up around children, but after living through my own personal hell, it also wasn’t something I could overlook.
“Well, Mrs. Shroyer, I’ve had a look at the X-rays, and I don’t see any breaks. It appears to be all soft tissue damage.” Sliding the films into clips on the X-ray viewing box, I pointed to the areas we were concerned about. “I’m not seeing any breaks or cracks, not even a shadow. I think,” I said, turning to face her, “with time and rest, you will heal right up.”
Mrs. Shroyer nodded gratefully and sighed. “Thank you, Sunny,” she breathed, and she hugged her little girl to her side.
“I just wanted to confirm that these bruises came from a tumble down the stairs…” The positioning of each bruise, the way she said she fell, even her little girl telling me it did, in fact, happen, hadn’t settled my heart. I met her gaze and offered a compassionate look, a knowing look, and she smiled warmly.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I promise you. I just slipped on Nisha’s Barbie car at the top of the stairs and fell.” Then she turned to her daughter whose shoulders sagged.
“I’m sorry, Mommy,” the little one said, and Mrs. Shroyer gave her a big squeeze.
“No harm done. We just have to pick up toys around the house, so accidents don’t happen, okay?”
Relief started to seep in as they stood and Mrs. Shroyer took her daughter’s hand. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a sucker I’d stashed there at reception when I saw the child come in, handing it to Nisha.
“Thank you for being such a good helper and being patient,” I said, and Nisha’s eyes lit up.
She glanced at her mom, who nodded and grinned, then Mrs. Shroyer thanked me again before they walked out.
I had to stand there a few minutes and compose myself before I could do anything. When I bumped into Freya a few weeks ago, I’d been riddled with guilt over never checking in on her. Kira and I moved to Tampa, and I went on my merry way, building a new life far away from here. It was Chad who brought it crashing back down to earth. Freya’s bruises reminded me of my own very painful incident with him. He only hit me once, but after months of watching his anger issue get worse and ignoring the red flags, I knew it wouldn’t be the last time.
After seeing Mrs. Shroyer’s purpled tissue, the same guilt welled up in my chest. I fingered my cell phone in the right front pocket of my scrubs and thought of Freya. She seemed so happy to see me, then so frightened when I asked her if she was okay. I’d let my own grief over losing Kira and my frustration with my father distract me from following up, and it was time I did something about it.
It was a horrible day to step away from the clinic. Carter was busy as it was, and without Jackson, I knew he’d have to take on more. The roiling uneasiness in my gut wouldn’t let me procrastinate any longer. Freya deserved to have someone fight for her, the way Kira had deserved it too, and I failed her. As a medical professional, I’d seen warning signs, but I said nothing. I had to do the right thing this time, so I marched down to the exam room where Carter had taken the last patient and waited.
The minute the door sprang open and he walked out carrying a blood sample in a vial, I pulled him aside.
“Uh, Doc, I think I have to run.” I chewed my lower lip. I didn’t want him to think I was slacking or just trying to dump my work on him. “I really have to check on a friend.” My eyes pleaded with him to understand and not question me or my motives. It wasn’t something I felt like I should talk about; Freya could get embarrassed or upset with me.
Carter studied my face for a moment with a solemn and concerned expression, and then he nodded. “If it’s important, then go. Is there anything I can do?”
Just that offer was enough to make my heart swell with gratitude, but in honesty, I didn’t think there was anything he could do. I shrugged and said, “I’m not sure, but if there is, I’ll tell you.” Turning to go, I paused and looked over my shoulder. “Thanks, Carter.” I already had my phone in hand, typing a text to Freya that my schedule had cleared up and I’d like to meet for lunch. I only prayed she was free, otherwise I’d look like a fool.
“Hey, Sunny?” Carter called, and I looked up after hitting send. “Dinner tonight?”
Wincing, I had to shake my head no. “Dad insisted we do a family dinner tonight. Mom and Luna will be grumpy if I bail. But maybe another time? Soon…” A warm smile spread across my face and he returned it.
“Sure … Be safe …”
With Carter’s well-wishes and approval, I collected my things and stepped outside into the warm LA sun. It was a hot three-block walk to the C line. On the way, I got a reassuring text from Freya. She was free and would meet me at a coffee shop only a few blocks from our former favorite shopping center. I tucked my phone away and boarded the metro, determined to coax Freya out of her shell and help her.
At the coffee shop, I arrived first and found a place to sit down. I ordered both of us our favorite Frappuccinos and a scone for each of us, and when Freya walked in, she found me quickly. I rose from my seat to hug her, noticing her wince as she put her arms around me. But she hid it with an air kiss to each cheek, and we sat down on opposite sides of the table.
“Oh my gosh, I was so happy to bump into you when shopping. I can’t believe my luck.” Picking up my plastic cup coated in a thick layer of condensation, I sucked the icy caffeinated beverage and examined every inch of the skin she had exposed as discretely as I could. The poor thing had more bruises, darker ones, which meant they were very fresh. Maybe even last night.
“Heavens, I know, right?” Freya slurped her own drink, the one I remembered from years ago was her favorite. “God, this is so good. Do you even know how long it’s been since I’ve had one of these? Age isn’t being kind to my figure.” She chuckled but I didn’t understand that joke. We weren’t even thirty yet, and she’d lost tons of weight since I last saw her.
“Yeah, life is like that, huh?” I didn’t want to jump right to my suspicions and scare her away, so I chose a safe topic. “So you were dating that Trevor guy, right? How’d that go? Are you two still together?” More slurping of our drinks, a bit of awkward conversation, and we finally started to loosen up.
“Oh, no, I broke it off with him. He ended up being a user. But I met Brad and fell for him. I’ve been dating him about six years now.” She spoke about him so kindly, and no doubt she loved him. I could see the sentiment in her eyes and pressed her a little.
“You really like him? How’d you meet?” Freya seemed enough at ease. She answered my questions with a smile.
“Oh, you know. I think I bumped into him on the rail line at one point. We found our schedules matched up and started sitting together every day. Shared stories, swapped snacks. Eventually, he asked me out and the rest is history.”
When she reached up to push some hair off her face, I noticed a huge gash on her hip that hadn’t been treated. I winced, probably grimacing madly, and sucked in a breath, though I attempted to stifle the reaction by sucking on my straw. My heart ached for her so badly.
“What about you? Are you dating someone?” Freya’s question opened up a perfect opportunity for me, but I was a bit nervous to bring it up. I shook my head, and decided not to chicken out. If she really needed my help, and I let her walk out of this coffee shop without even trying, what sort of friend was I?
“Actually, no,” I told her. “I broke it off.” My head hung as I remembered the night I threw Chad out of my apartment. He apologized, swore he’d never do it again, but once was enough for me. “He hit me, had anger issues. I knew I deserved better.” My eyes slowly rose to meet hers. Even without directly asking her, I could see in her gaze the truth. “I had to choose myself over him. It wasn’t safe to be with someone like that, never knowing when he’d snap and do it again…”
Freya’s eyes misted; she nodded and sucked her straw. I reached up and twirled a strand of hair from my ponytail, feeling the urge to shake her, make her confess, but my story was working on her heart. I had to let it work.
“Yeah, that sounds awful,” she admitted. “You deserve so much better than that.”
“You do too,” I said compassionately. I reached out and touched her hand. There were even defensive bruises there, on the sides of her wrist like she’d struck him back. “You really do, Freya. And if you’re in trouble, I can help you.” I would march her right up to my dad’s Malibu home and get her set up in luxury while she got back on her feet if need be. I’d fight my dad to make sure it happened.
“It’s really fine, Sunny,” she said, shaking her head. “Brad, he just…He drank too much, and you know how guys are when they drink. So, it’s not like it’s a regular thing. He’s a good man. I’m really okay.”
Every word from her mouth oozed with pain and fatigue. I squeezed her hand and said, “Freya, I’m worried about you. I really am.”
“Sunny, I’m fine.” Her tone turned a bit tense and cold, and she sucked in a breath and breathed it out. “You know, the night we met, Brad…” She rambled on, telling me about the magical night on the rail line where she met him, how incredibly romantic he was, how he swept her off her feet.
I could see the way she thought of him in the past, before something shifted and turned him into something I was sure neither one of them wanted him to be. I couldn’t ask her about it though. All I could do was sit there and keep reminding her I was here to help if she wanted it.
When our chat was over and I was walking toward the C line again, my phone chimed with a text from Dad telling me to wear something nice for dinner—he invited someone. I rolled my eyes and slumped into a seat at the back of the train, wondering what he was up to. After the day I’d had, I didn’t want to go to dinner anymore. I wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep.