by Casie Bazay
I’m trying to distract myself by watching the muted late-night news program on the TV on the opposite wall when Jackie hurries through the doors. Her eyes dart wildly around the room. She’s pale and thin and her black Dollar General uniform shirt nearly swallows her whole. She freezes when she spots the three of us, and I wave her over. She’s been through hell, and it shows not only on her face, but in her whole demeanor. Her shoulders slump forward as she approaches.
“Hey, Jackie,” I say.
She avoids looking at my mom, instead focusing only on me. “How is she? Can we go back to see her?”
“Not yet. They said they’d let us know when we can.”
She bites her lip, like she’s trying to fight off tears, but then straightens. “Okay.”
Her eyes search for a chair to sit in. There are at least a dozen people scattered around the waiting area and plenty of open seats, but I can tell she’s trying to decide if she should sit next to us or somewhere else. Tim is watching this whole scenario without a word. Meanwhile, my mom has busied herself flipping through a magazine and hasn’t so much as said hi to her sister yet. So much for being an adult…
“Sit next to me,” I tell Jackie. “Please.”
She gives an imperceptible nod and pushes her hair behind one ear.
Once Jackie is seated, Mom finally lowers the magazine to her lap. She clears her throat as she turns to look her sister’s way. “I’m sorry,” she says, so quiet I’m not sure if Jackie even heard, but then my aunt looks at my mom. I’m just sitting here in between them, hoping to God I’m strong enough to be Switzerland.
Jackie swallows and pushes her hair back again. “Thank you for calling me.”
“Sure,” my mom says before clearing her throat again. “It’s not a problem.”
“Becka,” the receptionist calls.
My heart gives a lurch, and I hurry up to the desk.
“They tell me she’s awake. You can go see her now. Room fourteen.”
Oh, thank God, I think as my whole body goes limp with relief. I go back to tell Jackie.
She frowns and draws in a wavering breath. “She may not want to see me. Maybe you should go first.”
“Okay. I’ll be back soon to let you know how she is.”
Another wave of relief washes over me when I find K. J. looking alert and sitting up on the cot. So the man was right—she just got knocked out—but her face is tight with pain as the nurse straps a blood pressure cuff around her arm.
“You’re looking much better,” I say.
She starts to smile but then grimaces, her free hand going to her side. “But how does the bull look?”
I smirk. “Completely fine.”
She tries to shift her position on the bed. “Oh God, that hurts.”
“She cracked a rib,” the nurse says.
“It hurts like hell,” K. J. mutters.
The nurse pats her shoulder. “She has a concussion, too.”
I’m not surprised. “You were completely out,” I say. “Back at the rodeo.”
“I don’t remember anything really—just the bull coming at me,” K. J. says. “The next thing I knew, I was waking up in an ambulance.”
I step to the side of the small room to allow the nurse to pass. She’s moved over to the counter to jot something down on a clipboard. “Your mom’s here. She wants to see you.”
K. J. rolls her eyes. “Tell her I’m fine. She can go home.”
“Come on, K. J. She’s worried. At least let her see that you’re okay.”
She doesn’t say anything for several moments. “Fine. She can come take a look.” K. J. tugs at the sleeve of her hospital gown. “But I’m not talking to her.”
“Real mature.” I glance at the nurse who has busied herself with more paperwork. She probably deals with family drama in here all the time. I’m sure this is nothing new. “I’ll go get her.”
Jackie’s lips tremble as we enter the room, but relief softens her features once she sees her daughter alive with four limbs intact. There’s no telling what possibilities had been running through her mind. The nurse is gone and K. J. is leaning back on the reclined bed, eyeing us both with a look of annoyance. Like we only came here to bother her.
“How are you feeling?” Jackie asks, taking a tentative step closer to the bed.
K. J. looks from me to her mom and back to me again, but her lips stay sealed. I proceed to explain the injuries to Jackie: a concussion, broken rib, and a bruised ego. K. J. works hard to refrain from smiling at that last one.
Jackie steps back and leans against the wall, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Thank God it’s nothing worse.” Her gaze drops to the floor, and she shakes her head. “Damn you, Dad, for making my baby girl get in an arena with a bull.”
I start to explain but K. J. cuts in.
“It was my fault. I got there late and that was the only event I could still enter.”
Jackie’s expression changes from worried to angry, and she looks like she wants to go off on K. J. for doing something so dumb, but instead she mumbles, “That figures.”
The door opens and a young doctor and the nurse from before come striding in. The doctor turns to Jackie. “Are you Mom?”
“Yes, sir.”
He introduces himself as Dr. Yin, shaking her hand. “We’d like to keep Katherine here overnight just for observation. To make sure she doesn’t develop any other symptoms from the head trauma. She took a pretty hard hit.”
Jackie opens her mouth like she might protest, but then promptly closes it again. “Okay, whatever my baby girl needs.”
I don’t miss K. J.’s exaggerated eye roll.
Dr. Yin shines a small light into each of K. J.’s eyes.
“Pupils still dilated some,” he notes. He examines her head, asking where it hurts. K. J. touches the back—probably where her head hit the ground. The doctor stands upright, depositing the flashlight into his lab coat pocket. “Okay, Athena’s going to help get you moved to a room.”
The nurse bustles out of the room, reappearing a few seconds later with a wheelchair in tow. Dr. Yin examines the paperwork on the counter and then turns to pat K. J.’s knee. “No more playing with bulls, young lady.”
“Don’t worry,” she says, “I won’t be doing that ever again.”
“That’s good. I hear kittens are much safer,” he says with a wink. “Take care.”
Nurse Athena helps K. J. into the wheelchair. I can tell she’d like to say a few choice words as she settles into the oversized seat, but just like Jackie, she holds her tongue. We follow them out of the room, but Athena directs us to use the public elevators back near the waiting area. Jackie hangs back while I explain what’s going on to Mom and Tim.
“Are you ready to go, then?” Mom asks. She’s obviously tired. It’s been a long night for everyone.
“Actually, I think I’ll stay here with K. J. tonight. I’ll call you in the morning.”
Mom frowns. “But you don’t have your car.”
“I can bring her home,” Jackie offers. “I’ll stay, too.”
Mom catches my eye, and I know she’s wondering if I’m okay with that.
“Thanks, Aunt Jackie.” It sounds strange to be calling her that to her face after all these years.
Mom gives me a semi-smile. “Okay. Call me if you need something.”
“I will.” I turn to Jackie. “Ready?”
She gives a nod, and we start for the elevators.
“I’ll stay out in the waiting area,” Jackie says once we’ve arrived on the second floor. “I just want to be here in case anything goes wrong.”
She goes to pour herself a cup of coffee from a nearby pot while I head for K. J.’s room. The door is partway open, but I knock before going in.
“Come in,” K. J. responds in a bored tone I’ve heard before. She’s sounding more like herself every second, thank goodness. Another nurse attends to her now, trying to help her get comfortable on the bed. K. J. winces with
every little movement but finally settles back onto the pillow, which has been placed behind her head. The nurse pulls a blanket up over her.
The room is cold and bare, with only a small television and a blank whiteboard on one wall. There’s a padded maroon recliner near the bed—my sleeping spot for the night, I guess.
K. J. catches me eyeing it. “You crashing here?”
I yawn and make my way around her bed. “I don’t have anything better to do.”
“Did my mom go home?”
“No, she’s out there.”
K. J.’s lips tighten, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s pissed at her mom, but deep down, I’m sure she still loves her and is glad she’s here.
I set my backpack in the windowsill and grab a folded blanket from a corner table before sinking into the chair. It’s not super comfortable, but it will do. “Let me know if you need anything,” I tell her.
“’Kay,” she says sleepily. They probably gave her some good pain meds. “Oh, crap,” she says a moment later, sounding startled. “Someone should call Carter. Let him know where I am and all.”
“I have your phone.” I reach for my backpack to retrieve it. “Want me to do it?”
“Do you mind? I’m so tired.”
“Yeah. No problem.” I scroll through her contacts and find his name. It rings five times, but then goes to voicemail. I hang up. “He didn’t answer.”
K. J. is already snoring softly.
I smile, switch both our phones to silent, and put them away.
CHAPTER 31
K. J.
“GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE!”
I open my eyes and blink, trying to take in my dim surroundings. For a split second, I’m completely lost and then a sharp pain shoots through my chest, and I remember everything at once. Shit, my ribs hurt. Or rib, I should say. It’s hard to believe one little bone can cause a person so much pain.
A blond, smiling nurse leans over my bed, smelling like cinnamon and coffee. She adjusts my pillow and I blink several more times, keeping my mouth closed tight. I highly doubt she wants to smell my morning breath.
“I’ve got some more pain meds for you, Miss Katherine,” she says, handing me two white pills and a small cup of water.
I take them without saying a word and the nurse backs away, moving toward the whiteboard across from my bed. She writes “Joy” next to where it says “Nurse” in bold black marker before returning to take the empty cup from me.
“Okay, Miss Katherine,” she says loudly, as if the bull might have damaged my hearing, too. “We’ve got you scheduled for another CT scan this morning, and if everything looks good, you’ll be headed home later.”
“Okay,” I mumble, since I don’t think I really have much say or a choice in the matter. Nurse Joy fiddles with one of the machines near my bed as I attempt a stretch, but any big movement hurts way too much, so I tuck my hands back beneath the covers instead. “What time is it?”
“Seven fifteen,” she says with a smile.
Way too early to be awake right now.
The chair to the right of my bed creaks, and Becka pulls the covers down from her face to peek over at me. Her ponytail is lopsided and she has mascara smeared beneath her eyes, but she spent the entire night here. I’m impressed. She moves the recliner up to a sitting position and rubs at her face.
“Hey,” I say quietly. Unlike some people, I don’t feel the need to be all loud and chirpy this early in the morning.
“Hey,” Becka says. “How ya feeling?”
“Sore,” I admit.
Joy bustles over and straps a blood pressure cuff on my arm. While that’s going, she swipes a thermometer across my forehead. “Everything looks great,” she says. She unstraps the cuff and goes to write my numbers on a clipboard. Apparently, she’s both efficient and cheerful. “Okay, I’ll be back in a little bit to take you for your CT scan. Buzz if you need anything.” She flashes another pageant-winning smile before leaving.
Once she’s gone, Becka stands and stretches with a loud yawn.
The yawn is contagious, and I’m rewarded with another stab of pain. “Ouch! Shit.”
Becka laughs. “I’m proud of how you’ve held your tongue here.”
I pretend to look affronted. “Hey. I can use self-control… when I want to.”
“Apparently so.” She walks around the bed, entering the bathroom. I need to go, too, but I’m scared of having to get out of bed. Maybe I should wait on the meds to kick in again. The toilet flushes and she’s out a few seconds later.
“Did you talk to Carter last night? I must have fallen asleep.”
“I tried. He didn’t answer.”
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He sleeps like the dead. Becka hands me my phone, and sure enough, there are three missed texts, all from Carter. I respond, telling him I’m in the hospital, but fine. I tell him I’ll call him later.
“Is my mom still here?” I ask Becka.
“I’m sure she is. Want me to go check?”
“Nah.”
“Think I’m going to go grab a Starbucks. There’s one on the first floor.”
“No fair,” I whine.
“I’ll get you one, too.”
I hit my buzzer, and when Joy pops back in, I ask her if I can have a cappuccino.
She smiles like it’s a funny question. “I don’t see why not, and you can order breakfast whenever you’re ready. I set a menu there.” She points to my side table. “I recommend the Belgian waffles,” she adds with a wink.
“Awesome, thanks.” I’m liking Joy more and more, and Belgian waffles sound pretty amazing right now.
Ten minutes later, Becka reappears with two coffee cups in hand. “Your mom asked how you were.” She hands me my cappuccino, but I can tell from the steam billowing from the opening that it’s still too hot to drink. I carefully set it on the table next to the menu.
Maybe I should at least be civil to my mom, but it’s too hard to forget our last big conversation. She can just stay out in the waiting room. I don’t want her in here, not after betraying me like she did. “What’d you tell her,” I finally ask.
“That you seem better this morning, and about the CT scan.”
“Tell her she can go now. I’m fine.”
Becka’s lips pucker as she seems to consider something. “I would, but she’s my ride. Probably yours, too.”
“Damn. I forgot, my car’s still at the rodeo grounds.”
“Hopefully Psycho hasn’t gotten to it.”
“If he did, I’m gonna have to hurt him.”
Becka laughs. “I’m sure he’s shaking in his big bull boots.”
I’ve just finished with lunch when a doctor enters my room to tell me everything on the CT scan looked good.
“You’re all set to check out,” she says.
“Yes! I mean, no offense to you all. I’m just ready to ditch this joint.”
“Totally understandable,” she says, and I can tell she’s not offended in the least.
After signing some papers, Joy helps me back into a wheelchair and pushes me out of the room. My mom is still there in the waiting area and she looks like shit, no makeup and her hair a tangled mess, but she stands and gives me a tired smile. I do my best to ignore her.
“I’ll go get the car,” she says to Joy.
“I can walk you know,” I grunt.
“Yes, you can,” Joy says. “And I’ll let you as soon as we get to the front door.”
I can’t see her right now, but I know she’s smiling.
Once the three of us are in Mom’s car, an awkward silence seems to fill every corner of it.
Mom clears her throat as she pulls out onto the street. “Should we go get your car? Maybe Becka could drive it home, and then I could take her back to her house.” She stops, realizing the error of her words. “Or she could drive it to wherever you’re staying.”
“I’m staying at Carter’s,” I say, staring straight ahead, but I’m not one hundred percent sure
I want to go back there.
“Oh,” Mom says, though she doesn’t sound completely surprised.
I look at the time on the dash. “Crap, I’m supposed to be at work in thirty minutes.”
“Work?” Mom glances my way, definitely surprised this time.
“I work at Reynold’s Auto Parts now.”
Her gaze shifts to the dirty shirt I’d had to put back on in order to leave the hospital. “Oh, so that’s why you’re wearing that.”
I quickly Google their number and call the store, telling Doug about my situation. He asks when I think I’ll be able to come back in.
“Um, I’m not sure…” I tell him. “I’ll let you know as soon as I can, though.” When I hang up, I have a feeling that I’ve lost my job already, but maybe it’s for the best.
We arrive at the rodeo grounds to find my car safe and sound in the middle of the empty field. Psycho, as well as all the other livestock, are all gone now, much to my relief. I did not want to see him again. In fact, I don’t want to see another bull as long as I live. I hand Becka my keys and she hops out.
Mom takes it slow as we leave, but I still wince as we drive over a series of ruts. The rough ground is hell on my cracked rib. Becka follows behind us in my car. Mom pushes her hair behind one ear, giving me a nervous glance. “So… where to?”
I’m still not sure where I want to go, but somehow the idea of being laid up on Carter and Dax’s couch watching talk shows or video games all day sounds less than appealing. “Home, I guess… for now.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a slight smile pulling at Mom’s lips. “Alrighty.”
We don’t talk for the rest of the drive home, but I can feel a small shift in things between us. Like maybe I’m slightly less pissed at her now. Or maybe I’m just too tired and uncomfortable to care. I lay my head back on the headrest and close my eyes, not opening them again until we pull into the mobile home park. Becka parks my car next to Mom’s.
“You staying here?” she asks as I open my door and try to find the least painful way of getting out.