The Man Cave Collection: Manservant, Man Flu, Man Handler, and Man Buns

by Ryan, Shari J.

  He laughs and shakes his head. “Okay, bruiser.”

  I pull in a deep breath, wanting to push this guy out of my way, but I hold the air inside my lungs as he spins me into the Radiology department.

  That was a super fun thirty minutes of life, I think to myself as a nurse from Radiology pushes this stupid chair I’m forced to sit in, down to the waiting area where I find Austin waiting.

  “Do you spend a lot of your day waiting on people?” I ask him.

  “Actually, I spend my day taking care of people, but whatever you’d like to think of it as is fine by me.”

  “You’re like a man handler of sorts,” I tell him. I might be trying to get under his skin, seeing as he was trying to get under mine earlier, but I don’t think it’s working much.

  “Sure, I’m a man handler. Is that better?” he gives in. “Why don’t we get you back to triage now.”

  “Do you have any other patients, or am I just getting special treatment?” I realize I’ve never had to spend time in a hospital before, but I wouldn’t think I’d have my very own nurse carting me to and from where I have to go.

  “The ER is quiet today,” he says.

  “So, I’m your entertainment?”

  “You are pretty entertaining,” he quips.

  “Pain entertains you?” I reply. The conversation ends abruptly, which I would normally call a win, but I might have taken one step too far this time, and I don’t feel like I won. “I’m kidding.”

  Austin stops and steps in front of the wheelchair. “Oh,” he says, placing his hand on his chest, “I’m sorry, were you just trying to be funny? I must have missed the punchline.”

  I narrow my eyes at him and return to the back of my chair, continuing this trek back to triage. How is it a man like him keeps his job, but I’m a few minutes late here and there, and I’m shipped halfway across the country? This must be why Dick thought I’d do well down here. They have the patience for late arrivals and rude nurses.

  I settle back into the triage bed, and I notice Austin watching my every move. Obviously, I’m watching his too since I’m aware that he’s studying me. I should be paying more attention to what I’m doing, though, since I accidentally move my wrist the wrong way and let out a yelp. “Do you want the ice back?” he asks.

  “Sure,” I tell him.

  He leaves the curtain-walled exam area I’m sitting in and returns with a cloth bag of ice. He’s gentle while placing it down on my wrist, which hurts more now after getting the X-rays taken. They turned my arm every which way to get pictures of all angles of my wrist, and it’s really throbbing right now. “How’s that?”

  “Cold,” I tell him.

  “Good,” he says. “We should have your results soon, so just hang tight for a few more minutes.”

  Austin leaves and I hear him tending to another patient nearby. He’s sweet as pie to that person, who sounds like a middle-aged female, but she is also being the same to him. I know I’m pissy, but who wouldn’t be right now?

  This sucks. Brendan is freaking out over my wrist and the fact that we’re living in a studio apartment made of cement walls. I feel like I’m in a completely different world here. They don’t even have a grocery store in this town. They have a butcher shop, a garden market, a bakery, and a store that sells all the other little shit. That’s what the brochure described, anyway. I grabbed it on the way out of the hotel and was reading about the uniqueness and history of Blytheville, as well as the reason why they try to keep the old-time southern charm here. Apparently, they’re all about supporting local small businesses and community growth. At least the hospital is somewhat modernized.

  A new doctor pulls the curtain open and walks in with an iPad-looking device that has an x-ray image taking up the entire screen. “Miss Scarlett, hello, I’m Dr. Lane, the orthopedic surgeon on staff here. How are you doing?” he asks.

  “Crappy,” I tell him. “I’m in a lot of pain and nervous to hear what’s wrong.” I’ll take a guess that the news isn’t good, considering this doctor is a surgeon.

  “I can certainly understand why,” he says. He takes a seat on a rolling stool that was sitting beneath the computer monitor and pulls it up to the bed’s side. “It appears you have a type of fracture of your radius where the bone is just out of place enough that it can’t be fully corrected by just a cast. My suggested plan of action is going to be a surgical procedure. We need to realign the fractured bone and then place a metal pin or two so we can force it to heal properly.”

  I’m not sure I just heard every word this doctor said, but my head feels numb, I’m breaking out in a cold sweat, and I’m pretty sure my heart stopped beating about thirty seconds ago. This is a joke, right? “I—I need pins?”

  “I know this sounds scary, but it’s a very common occurrence, and the procedure is performed all the time.”

  “When do I have to have surgery?” I ask.

  “The sooner the better. We don’t want the bones beginning to heal in the wrong place. I would suggest tomorrow if we can get you scheduled for then. For now, we’ll immobilize your wrist and send you home with a pain reliever to help you get through the night. Are you okay with that?”

  I can hardly put a logical thought together, but I need to know how long this will take. “How long is the recovery?” Oh no. I’m going to be let go from my job before I start. This is a nightmare, and Dick will have the last laugh.

  “A full recovery can take up to a year, but you should regain full use of your wrist in six to eight weeks. We’ll put on a cast after the surgery so you can continue on with most normal daily tasks after the pain has subsided.”

  I might just pass out from the information overload. This is unreal. “Okay, I guess I don’t have a choice,” is all I can manage to say.

  “You are making the right decision. For now, you should just focus on taking it easy tonight and get some rest. Do you have someone to help you out at home?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him. Home. I don’t have a home. I’m living in a shack.

  “Okay, we’ll get you wrapped up for now, and I’ll have Austin see about getting you scheduled for surgery tomorrow.”

  The doctor leaves fairly quickly, and I’m left sitting here with crazy thoughts and fears of all the what-ifs. One thing I’m sure about though, Brendan is going to freak. I’m going to be left with a basket case when I’m the one going in for surgery.

  Just breathe, I tell myself.

  Austin reappears a few minutes later with a splint and a sling and sits down on the stool Dr. Lane was just using to give me all my great news. “This will help your arm feel better,” he says as he takes my wrist and places it in the splint. “I’m sorry you have to go through this. Dr. Lane is great, though.”

  “Okay.”

  “So, I was able to get you an appointment for tomorrow at nine in the morning. You’ll need someone to be here while you’re in surgery and to stay with you the rest of the day after you get discharged since you’ll be coming off general anesthesia. I have already talked to Brendan. He’s still processing everything right now, but he said he’ll be here with you tomorrow. I’m assuming he’ll also be able to help you out tonight, right?”

  “We can only hope,” I tell Austin.

  “Do you have transportation for tomorrow?”

  “I’ll call an Uber.”

  He gives me a long, concentrated look, then shakes his head a bit. “Okay, well, don’t have anything or drink after midnight, and if you need anything between now and then, give the hospital a call.”

  “I will.”

  Austin stands up and circles around before spotting whatever it is he’s looking for. He snags a piece of notepaper and removes a pen from his pocket. “This town is small. We all help each other out around here, so if you really need anything, you can give me a call, okay?” He hands me the piece of paper with his number on it, and I’m probably giving him a look like he’s crazy because that’s sort of what I’m thinking. We just met, and nurses d
on’t give their numbers out to patients like this.

  “Are you seriously giving me your phone number? Couldn’t you get fired for this? Like … isn’t there some kind of ethical code against giving your personal number to a patient?”

  He smiles. “We’re in Blytheville, land of the olden days. Doctors and nurses still make house visits in this town. So yeah … ”

  “What a welcome this has been,” I tell him with a fake burst of enthusiasm.

  “Hang in there.” He places his hand on my shoulder again, and this time I feel the warmth of his hand seep through the thin material of my t-shirt. I’m vulnerable. I’ve been here less than a day. Ignore the white smile against his tanned scruff. Go away, hot nurse. I don’t need you or your Southern charm.

  “Well, we know my arm is hanging in there, literally,” I say, pointing to the sling, “so don’t worry about me.”

  “Good one,” he says, pointing at me with a wink.

  Ugh. “I try.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he says.

  “You live here?” I ask.

  “No, I work here … ”

  “All day, every day?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Fun.”

  “It hasn’t been so bad today,” he says, leaving me, and taking the last word with him.

  Chapter Eight

  Austin

  The rest of my shift dragged, but at least I’m out in time to catch the last few innings of the ball game. “I’ll see you in the morning,” I tell Daisy as I toss my bag over my shoulder.

  “You’re welcome,” she says with a raised brow. Her focus is held on the piece of paper she’s doodling on, but I see the sly, little smirk.

  “I’m sorry, but what exactly are you expecting my gratitude for?”

  “I sent you to your Cinderella,” she says with a sigh as she fans herself with the paper she picks up.

  I stop in front of her and rest my elbows on the countertop. “Daisy,” I begin.

  “Austin,” she laments.

  “Cinderella was a poor girl who was left as a maid to her stepmother. The girl in the room you sent me into was no Cinderella. From our interaction so far, she may be more like one of the evil stepsisters. She definitely wasn’t leaving that expensive shoe of hers behind for me to chase after her with.”

  “You never know,” Daisy says, her voice piping into a high pitch.

  “You need a new hobby. Just sayin’.”

  “You need a woman in your life.”

  “No, I don’t,” I remind her. “I am more than enough of a companion for myself.”

  She releases an irritated huff. “You are so darn sad, Austin Trace.”

  I give her my best puppy dog simper and straighten my back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, crazy Daisy.”

  A breeze hits my face the second I step outside the hospital, and for some reason, it gives me a spurt of energy after being cooped up in the hospital all day. It’s the only time of year when it isn’t too chilly, and it isn’t hot as balls yet, so I try to appreciate the four weeks of spring we get.

  I pass by Dickle's, noticing the lack of shouts that would normally be pouring out of the place during a game. With a quick glance inside, I see that the place is mostly empty, which is inviting, especially since Jack is working tonight.

  “Hey, bud,” I shout while walking in.

  “Austin, bro, how’s it going?”

  “Can’t complain. Where is everyone tonight?” I ask, taking a seat in front of the bar.

  “I’m not sure, actually. It’s been quiet all day.”

  “Yeah, the hospital was fairly quiet too.”

  “Want your usual?” he asks.

  “You know it.”

  Jack pours me a tall glass of Yuengling and places it down on a cardboard coaster. “Anything fun and exciting happen at work today?” Jack asks.

  “Not really, except I took care of this chick from Boston who just moved here. Let me tell you something, she’s going to be well-known around here by the end of the week. Her attitude—” I hoot. “Hot damn. The women are going to hate her, and the men are going to love her. It’ll be a cause for a big ole’ tub of popcorn.”

  “Oh man, I want to see this girl. What does she look like?”

  I take a swig of my beer. “She’s smokin’, kind of the whole package, except her mouth and attitude,” I say, laughing.

  “What was she doing in the hospital?”

  “Broke her wrist. She was tramping through the woods in front of the Bayview Plantation. Her four-inch stiletto met a concealed ditch.”

  “Why the hell was she walking through the woods with prickers on her feet?”

  “I guess they do things differently in Boston,” I tell him, taking another big swig.

  “You gonna see her again?”

  I know I shouldn’t be grinning since she needs surgery and shit, but the next day or so with her should be entertaining at the very least. “She has surgery scheduled for the morning.”

  “You don’t work mornings,” Jack reminds me.

  “Am tomorrow.” I wink quickly and take a swig of the beer.

  “Nice, bro. Good luck with that. You love when a girl tries to get under your skin. You’re like some kind of chick masochist.”

  “Keeps me on my toes.”

  Another guy walks in and takes a seat a few stools away from me, so Jack leaves me with a good view of the TV behind his head. Nice. We’re up six-nothing in the seventh inning.

  With the hum of the TV’s quiet static and the water pouring into a sink behind the bar where Jack’s cleaning glasses, it’s hard not to hear a couple of people bickering out on the street.

  I lean back to see what’s going on. Another odd thing about this town is that people don’t argue in public, or if they do, it’s with a smile and the devil in their eye. Most folks save it for behind closed doors in fear of hurting their pristine reputation. I know the truth, as do most of the others who have lived here way too long, but people take the whole “peaceful” town thing very seriously, and undermining that façade could be bad for tourism.

  The arguing seems to get louder, and it sparks Jack’s attention. He presses up on his toes and looks out above the bar’s sign. “Hey uh, what color of hair does Boston have?” he asks.

  “I don’t know, like dark brown and reddish.”

  “Big tits?” Jack continues.

  “For sure,” I respond. Didn’t miss those babies.

  “I think your girl is out there fighting with some uppity-looking guy.”

  “She ain’t my girl, bro. I was her nurse today.”

  Jack lowers back down and continues cleaning the glass he was working on but with a grin that says more than his brain could conjure for words. “Well, I don’t think she’ll be that dude’s girl for much longer, so you never know.”

  I stop myself from telling him they’re not together because that would make it clear I found out a little too much about Scarlett today, which may be the case, but it’s boring as hell around here so I get to know all my patients, not just her.

  When I hear the sound of a slap, I jump off the stool, causing a sharp scrape between the leg’s metal footing and the tile floor. I’m out the door in a matter of seconds, watching the hand wind up to slap again. My eyes widen in surprise, shocked at what I’m seeing. “Ah, you shouldn’t be swinging at people tonight. Or ever, for that matter,” I say.

  “She hits me all the time,” Brendan says. “She thinks she’s hurting me, but she hits like a girl.” And the non-wounded hand slaps his shoulder.

  “Shut the fuck up. Why are you being so stubborn today?” Scarlett asks Brendan.

  “Me? I’m being stubborn? You have a broken wrist. You should be resting because you have surgery tomorrow. Yet, here we are meandering around town, but yes, I’m the one being stubborn.” Brendan is very calm and level-headed, and Scarlett is turning redder by the minute.

  “Hey, hey, calm down.” I walk over to her and grab
her good arm that’s swinging without a target to hit. “You’re going to hurt your wrist more if you keep swinging your body around like that. Why are you roaming around right now? He’s right. You should be home resting.”

  “I need a few things from a pharmacy or whatever you have around here that comes close to that, and I have to get my prescriptions filled.” She continues to look around the street while she’s talking, but she isn’t going to find what she’s looking for within the next couple of blocks. “What about you? Do you just spend your nights roaming the streets looking for tricks?” she asks.

  “Tricks?” I ask with a snort catching in my nose. “Did you not just see me walk out of the bar?”

  She doesn’t orally respond, just squints one eye at me and contorts her face to look like she just tasted a lemon.

  “Let me settle my bill inside, and I’ll escort you two to the drugstore.”

  “No. It’s fine, really. If you just point us in the right direction, we’ll be okay.”

  “Just give me a minute,” I tell them.

  I’m almost positive they’ll be gone by the time I come back out, but at least I offered to be nice.

  I settle the tab with Jack. “What are you up to, bro?” he asks.

  “They’re lost,” I air quote. “I’m going to give them a hand since she should be resting.”

  “What a good guy, you are,” Jack says with a wink. “You go help her get some rest.”

  I pinch the shoulders of my t-shirt. “You know it. I’m sort of the best there is, ya know?”

  “Right, dude. Catch ya later.”

  I head back outside, and I’m surprised to see them still here. Still bickering too. “Do y’all fight a lot?” I ask.

  “No,” Brendan says. “We almost never fought when we were living in Boston.” He doesn’t take his eyes off her as he says this. He looks pretty ticked for whatever she’s doing, which I can only imagine at this point. “Scarlett likes to be in control, so when things aren’t under her control, she gets a little feisty.”

  Scarlett huffs and starts walking off in the wrong direction. That is if she’s still trying to find the drug store.