AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Actually, I’m just coming home. But I need to get showered and off to school. I don’t want Professor Chaplin to be upset.”
Well, that did it. Even though telling the truth was always the better plan with either of my parents, this behavior would have been expected more from my older sister, Agatha, when she lived at home, or even my twin.
My mom confirmed my thought when she commented, “This isn’t like you. Everything okay, dear?” She came to where the kitchen became the great room and wiped her hands on the dish towel that was flung over one shoulder.
“Yes, fine. Just had a late night, and it made more sense to stay instead of getting a ride. Shepperd had the car.” As I explained my whereabouts, she was eagle-eyeing my arm. Maybe the way I was holding it against my chest out of habit now, or the way the thing was still swollen to twice its normal size, but she didn’t like what she saw.
“Maye Louise! What happened?” She rushed toward me, and I physically recoiled from her approach. The damn thing was throbbing like nobody’s business, and the last thing I wanted was her touching it.
“I fell. It’s fine, Mom. Seriously. I’m just going to shower and?—”
“No way, young lady. That needs to be looked at. It’s huge!” That was typical Lisa Farsey—stater of the obvious.
“Whether I go to the doctor or school, I need a shower. Please. Just let me freshen up, and we can decide what to do.”
“Fine. But I’m calling Dr. Miller while you shower. Hopefully, they can fit you in.”
“There’s no point going to his office, Mom. He’s just going to send me for an X-ray. If we do anything, we may as well go straight to urgent care, and they can x-ray it right there in their building.” I’d given this plenty of thought already, and that was the best plan.
“Okay, you have a point. I’ll drive you. I’ll cancel my Pilates class this morning. Sound like a plan?”
I sagged with relief and frustration at the same time. I hated to put anyone out, and I knew she coveted that time at her fitness class. Guilt already niggled at me that she would miss today’s session.
“No, Mom. We can go later. So you won’t have to miss class,” I offered. “It barely hurts.”
Lies, lies, lies.
She gave the idea consideration but snapped out of her moment of selfishness and insisted we go as soon as I showered. I knew I shouldn’t think that about the same woman who devoted her entire life to raising my sisters and me. But an injured or sick child in this house never got the attention she deserved. Or at least what we thought we should get.
It was a strange sticking point for not just me but for all my siblings. We talked about it on numerous occasions, and we all harbored the same resentment about it. When we were children and got the flu or whatever was going around school, we were told to tough it out. My parents firmly believed our immune systems were stronger because we didn’t interfere with antibiotics. While I was sure there was some logic to the theory, there were plenty of times it seemed like unnecessary suffering.
“Do you need help? How are you going to undress?” she asked when she refocused on me and not her disrupted routine.
“I’ll manage. I’ll be quick. No way I’m washing my hair today with one arm. It will just have to be a bun day,” I called back to her as I headed toward my room. “Just give me twenty minutes.”
“Okay, honey. Holler if you need help.”
By the time I had my clothes off and stood beneath the shower spray, I was in tears. The damn arm really hurt, and since I’d been keeping it immobilized, it was so much more painful when I did move it. If the damn thing wasn’t broken, I’d be shocked.
Seven hours, five X-rays, two orthopedic consultations, and one blue fiberglass cast later, I collapsed utterly exhausted onto my bed. That was one of the longest, most painful days I could remember.
Of course, I texted Andrew throughout the process—at his insistence, to let him know what was happening. The end result was a broken ulna and a terribly uncomfortable cast up to my armpit.
Unreal. That was the only word that could summarize it. In the interminable wait between various steps in the process, I ended up telling my mother what actually happened. I wished I’d skipped over the part about Joel manhandling me, because she would surely tell my dad what had happened. Though, if he beat the boy’s ass for it, it only served him right.
If he had just respected my dismissal the first time. Or hell, the second or third time, even, none of this would’ve happened. I definitely painted Andrew as the hero in the situation because in my memory, that’s what he had been. Who knows how unhinged Joel would’ve become had he not stepped in. For that, I would always be thankful.
All the stuff that happened after that? Well—jury was still out on the soundness of those decisions. At least I didn’t sleep with the man or anything like that. Then I’d have a mountain of what-ifs plaguing me right now instead of the handful.
Obviously, I was excused from missing the day at school with him. He told me to take the rest of the week off—to recover. Now that I was home, enormous arm resting on a pile of pillows beside me, I had some head time to really worry about the whole situation.
Was he telling me to stay home because he was uncomfortable around me now? Did he ever date any of his other students or interns? Was I just another nubile notch in his bedpost? My rational mind said he was sincere with everything he said and did the night before. The jaded version, admittedly heavily influenced by my twin, had me doubting every single detail as I replayed the night back in my memory.
The doctor at the hospital had prescribed a mild pain reliever, and when there was a soft knock on our bedroom door, I hoped it was my mom, back from the pharmacy with the medication.
“Maye, darling? You awake, sweetie?” Her alto voice was easy to discern through the closed panel.
“Yeah, Mom. Come on in,” I called from the nest of pillows.
