Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bray
“Unca Bray! Come look!” Ava screams from her room. I’m busy making a pasta dish. I wipe my hands on a towel and hurry into her room.
“What’s up, Peanut?” I ask as I walk inside and then freeze.
Ava has somehow managed to build a vertical fort-like structure from God knows what. I squint as I study it. Boxes, toys, couch cushions, and other odd bits are stuck together and she’s sitting on top of it near the ceiling.
I swallow. Shit. How did I leave her alone so long that she’s managed to construct a building?
“And…” she adds and pulls out a cord, plugging it into an extension cord. The room lights up with little twinkling fairy lights. “Ta-da!” she exclaims as she stretches out her hands and then everything goes sideways…quite literally.
Ava starts to fall, the unpermitted structure starts to collapse, and I go diving horizontally to catch her. Toys and boxes rain down on me as I manage to sort of get her.
She screams out in pain, and I freeze, pulling her against me.
“What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” I say, panicked as my eyes search her body.
She’s wailing and holding her hand.
I take a deep breath. “Pull it together, Bray. You’re a fucking emergency room doctor,” I silently scold myself.
“Let me see your hand, Peanut,” I say softly.
She keeps crying but holds her hand out, clutching it with her other hand. I sit her in my lap and push toys away from us as I slowly pry her other hand away to examine it.
Her middle finger is swollen. Shit. No bones are protruding and there’s a little discoloration, but not horrible. It might be broken, but without X-rays, it’s hard to tell.
“Can you bend your finger?” I ask her. She tries but doesn’t bend it very far.
“I-it h-hurts!” she wails.
“I know, baby. I know. I’m so sorry. Unca Bray is gonna fix it, OK? Why don’t we take a fun ride over to my work so I can make it all better?” I say as I stand and lift her in my arms.
“I d-don’t w-wanna g-go!” she screams as she sobs. My heart literally breaks into a thousand pieces. I hold her tight against my chest and kiss the top of her head as I carry her into the kitchen, turn off the stove, and grab my wallet and keys. Then I pull an ice pack from the freezer.
I’m out the door with Ava in just a few seconds, hurrying to the garage. I put Ava in the car seat I installed in here two years ago when I got tired of borrowing Carly’s. She’s nearly outgrown this one, but I pay no attention to that as I fasten her into it. I hand her the ice pack.
“Here,” I start as I set it on her lap, “put your hand on this and it will help you feel better,” I say as I help her set her hand with her hurt finger on the soft ice pack.
She whimpers and my heart lurches. “I’m so sorry, Peanut. I promise I will make it feel all better.”
With tears streaming down her rosy cheeks, she looks up at me like I’m her knight in shining armor, but I don’t feel like I am. “Y-you promise?” she whispers and then sniffles.
“I promise. Good as new,” I say as I lean down and rub my nose against hers.
She sighs a little after a hiccup.
“That’s my brave girl. We’ll be there in two minutes,” I say as I lean back and close the door.
I hurry to get into my seat and then drive us the few blocks to the hospital. I park in my coveted reserved spot, earned after years of hard work. I usually let my colleagues use it, so I’m extra glad that Gloria is off today since she’s the one I’ve gifted it to for the next two weeks.
I have Ava in my arms and inside the ER in a matter of minutes.
“Hey, I thought you weren’t in until four?” one of our nurses says as I walk us into the heart of the chaotic space that I call work.
“We had a little accident, didn’t we, Peanut?” I explain as I point to her finger.
Ava nods.
The nurse, Ruby, comes over and takes a look. “Oh my, what have we here? You know what, I think I have something that will make it all better.”
“Y-you do?” Ava asks, her eyes widening as she keeps the ice pack firmly against her hand.
“I do,” Ruby says. She walks over to her desk and opens a drawer. She finds a box of stickers.
“Which one do you think would help?” she asks Ava.
Ava uses her good hand to look through them. She finds a large one with a rainbow, unicorn, and sparkly stars. She holds it up to Ruby.
“I think that’s the perfect one for you. You must be magical to have found that one,” Ruby says.
Ava nods again. I swear she’s about to start sucking her thumb, a habit we only rid her of a few months ago.
“OK, we are going to X-ray with our magical sticker,” I declare.
“I’ll call and let them know you’re on your way,” Ruby offers.
I mouth, “Thank you,” as I walk us out the door and down the hallway. Ava keeps the sticker clutched in her hand until we walk into the room with an X-ray machine.
“Hey, Doc,” my friend and X-ray technologist, Gilbert, says.
“Hey, G, I got a special patient today. This is Ava. Can we get a quick picture of her hand?” I ask.
“Sure thing.” He walks over to us and smiles down at Ava. “You want to see inside your hand.”
Her eyes widen. “Uh…” She opens her mouth to speak and closes it.
He points to the X-ray machine. “I have a special camera that can take a picture of the inside of your hand. You just have to set your hand on that little table,” he explains. “Think you can do that?”
She purses her lips and considers his request.
“Maybe,” she says quietly and then looks at me for reassurance.
“I think you can,” I encourage her as I walk us over to the table. “Shall we put your sticker on so you can have some magical powers?”
Her lower lip trembles, and she sucks in a breath. Looking from the table back to me, she nods.
“OK, I’m going to set you down and I’ll put it on. Then I’ll be here with you,” I say as I peel the back off the sticker and place it on her t-shirt.
Gilbert gives me a look, and I motion to the adult-sized X-ray shield. He brings it over to me and helps me secure it. Then he grabs a child-sized one for Ava, and we get it on her.
“OK, little buddy. Let’s set that hand on the table,” Gilbert says. He carefully helps Ava position her hand, encouraging her the entire time. Thank God he’s the tech today. The other tech is this grumpy woman who definitely wouldn’t have been as cool with Ava.
“Good job!” he says once he has her hand in the right position. “I’ll be right back. I gotta take the photo. Stay real still.”
He walks around the corner, and I hear the sound of the machine. We repeat the process twice more with different positions. Only one position makes Ava cry, which rips my heart out once again. God, I hate to see her in pain; it’s like a gut punch.
When he finishes, he walks around the corner. “You wanna see your bones?” he asks.
She trembles, and I realize she doesn’t understand. I take off our shields.
“Come here, Peanut. It’s really cool,” I urge as I pick her up. She wraps her arm with her good hand around my neck as I carry her to the screen. I point at her hand.
“That’s what it looks like inside your hand,” I explain.
“That’s my bones?” she asks.
I nod. “Yep.” I lean forward as I study the images. I sigh with relief when I don’t see any broken bones.
“No breaks,” I state. “You have a sprained joint. So, we are going to get it wrapped up, and then we’ll go get a treat. You should be good as new in another two–three weeks.”
“What’s a sprained joint?” she asks.
“I’ll explain everything while I patch you up. Thanks, G,” I say to Gilbert.
“Sure thing. Feel better, Ava,” he says with a wave. She waves back and then remembers her finger is injured and winces.
“Careful, sweetie,” I say as I carry her back to an exam room where I patch up her finger and explain in little-kid terms what her injury means.
“Thanks for saving me, Unca Bray,” Ava says as we walk out of the hospital towards my favorite diner. I’ve just texted Carly, who is heading over to meet us. She’s a little miffed that I didn’t call or text immediately. And by little, I mean a lot.
Her exact words were, “What the hell, Bray? You should have called me right away.”
Oops.
I tried to explain that I was like a panicked new parent and completely went into ER doc mode without another thought, but I know she’s pissed, and I feel horrible about it, both for not watching Ava more closely and for not calling her until we were patching her up in the ER.
We get seated and the waitress brings a kid’s menu with crayons for Ava.
My phone buzzes as Ava settles into coloring at the table. It’s my childhood friend, Lanie.
“Well, that’s serendipitous,” I think to myself as I accept the call.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hey, how are you?” she asks cheerfully. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything. I didn’t expect you to answer.”
I laugh. Nine times out of ten, when she calls, I’m working or sleeping.
“Well, you caught me at a good time,” I lie because Carly will be here any minute, and it will not be a good time, plus I’m still stressed about what just happened.
“You OK?” she asks.
Sighing, I turn away from Ava. “Ava just had a fall, and we had to go get X-rays,” I explain.
Lanie knows all about Ava and Carly. She’s constantly asking me when I’m going to admit my feelings and ask Carly out, which drives me crazy.
“Oh no! Is she OK? What happened? Do you need anything?” Lanie asks. I stifle a laugh at my friend’s immediate line of questioning. She’s a lawyer through and through.
“Yeah, just a sprain. We’re drowning our sorrows in a dinner of ice cream and waffles,” I state.
“Sounds like fun. Well, I won’t keep you. Was just thinking of you because Ashton set a school record for the half-marathon yesterday,” she says. “The season hasn’t even started yet; they are just doing some friendly meets before school starts.”
“That’s great! Wow, I can’t believe he’s starting high school,” I say, wondering if any of my high school records still stand.
Cancer may have robbed my friend of her chance to have biological kids, but the universe works in mysterious ways.
A few years ago, she and her now husband, who is also a doctor, were assigned to help with a foster kid. They ended up adopting him.
“Yeah, it’s crazy. Anyhow, I’ll let you get back to your patient. Talk soon,” she says.
“Bye, Lanesville,” I tease as I hang up and turn back to Ava. She’s managed to color most of the menu.
“Waffles?” I ask.
She nods and then frowns. “Mommy looks not happy,” she says. I turn to see a worried Carly rush over to us.
“Tell me everything,” she says as she hugs Ava and examines her hand.
“It’s fine, Mommy. I’m a brave, big girl. And it’s only a sprain,” Ava explains as if she’s fifteen and not five. Although if I said that aloud, she’d tell me that she’s nearly six, not five.
Carly glares at me. Fuck. I’m in big trouble.