“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 don’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 Bosto
n,” 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.
“It’s the other way, darlin’,” I tell her.
“We came from that way,” she says, irritation filling her voice. “And since you obviously forgot, my name is Scarlett, not Darling.”
“Well, the drug store is not on this street.”
“I figured everything was on this street. I didn’t even think there was another street in this town,” she says, still looking past me and around the bend as if I’d be lying about something so dumb. “Where is this hidden street then?”
“About two blocks back, through an invisible door at the back of a closet, and through about a mile of snowy woods.”
Scarlett clutches the back of her neck. “You know you’re not funny, right?”
“To each their own,” I tell her.
“No. Where we come from, you’re not funny.”
“You sound like you’re from another planet,” Brendan pipes in, leaving that quip for Scarlett.
“I feel like it right now.”
“You kind of look like it too,” I add in.
Scarlett takes in a long breath of air. “Okay, you know what? I’m done. I don’t need a pain reliever. I don’t need an ice pack. I don’t even need electricity in my shack because that’s not an option, by the way. I just want this horrible day to be over, so I can move onto the next horrible day here.”
“No electricity?” I question.
“More drama,” Brendan replies with a roll of his eyes and a wave of his hand. “It took her a whole five minutes to find the fuse box, and now you’d think we’re all gonna die tonight.”
“Ah.”
“I’m going to find my way back to my servant shack, so I’ll catch you two later. Good night you all.”
“Y’all,” I correct her.
“No, it’s two words. Look it up in the English dictionary.”
Scarlett starts walking again, at least in the right direction of the hotel. I’m not going to question whether or not she’d stop and come back for Brendan because I’m almost positive she means what she says and says what she means.
“How do you put up with her all the time?” I ask Brendan. “And can I get you a beer?”
“Yes, to the beer,” he says.
We head back into Dickle's and take seats at the bar. “One more round, Jack,” I tell him.
He gives me a questioning look, but I shoo him off. Brendan looks as out of place here as I would up north, I’m sure. “She isn’t usually like this,” Brendan says. “She’s freaking out over tomorrow and doesn’t handle change well. Plus, I kind of forced her to take this job
transfer, so I think she might be taking her anger out on me.”
“Why’d you force her?”
“Her boss told her she could either transfer here or she’d be fired without the option of collecting unemployment. The girl needed to get out of Boston, out of the city, and get a handle on her life, which required getting away from her crazy family and shitty friends. So I quit my job and told her I was coming with her.”
I lean my head back, taking it all in. “That’s a big deal. No wonder she’s pissy.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to regret it all,” he says.
“Well, now, hold up a minute. I wasn’t saying you were wrong or nothin’. If you care about her, you must know what’s in her best interest.”
“She’s like a sister to me, and the city was eating her soul. Technology was overturning her life, and she was turning into one of those mutants who walk around with her phone attached to her forehead—that, and she was trying to have some semblance of a nightlife after her long shifts, which just consistently spelled disaster. Just no.” Brendan laughs, and I’m picturing an absurd image, but I get it. We aren’t quite like that down here, but I see shit online about the northern states becoming lazy and dependent on their electronic devices.
“You’re a good man. Living down here will take some time to adjust to, but it ain’t that bad.”
Jack places our beers down on two new coasters. I take a quick swig and watch Brendan down his drink in a matter of thirty seconds. “Sorry. That was necessary,” he says.
“No apologies needed, bro.” We watch the game for a few minutes, but I see him looking out the front windows every minute or so, probably wondering if Scarlett made it back to the hotel.
“I should probably go hunt the princess down before she breaks her other wrist,” Brendan says.
“I did notice she traded in her heels for sandals at least,” I tell him. “So, at least she has that working for her.”
“Yeah, and I had to fight her on that, believe it or not.”
“She’s a firecracker, huh?”
“Yes, that she is, but she’s a cute little firecracker most of the time. I think she has that whole little dog, big bark syndrome thing going on. You try to take her treat and it’s all over.”
Man Handler (Man Cave - A Standalone Collection Book 3) Page 7