Page 17 of Fixation
I roll out of bed and…
Thump.
“Ouch.” I rub my shoulder, then reassure myself. “The doctors will fix it too. They can fix eveeeeerything.”
The world spins for real as I crawl down the stairs. Get to the front door, where my boots stare at me.
“It’ll take forever to put you on,” I scold them.
They seem to agree while I wrangle them on my feet.
Keys and bag. They’re on the console.
High, high up there.
Well, I have to get up anyway, so I do.
Then I’m out the door on shaky legs. My house is locked.
Yippie.
My Uber is waiting outside. I stagger toward it, barely. Wrench the door open.
Collapse into the back seat.
“Hey, are you dying or something?” the lady asks after she starts driving.
She has brown eyebrows, narrowed with concern. Brown hair too.
I almost call herMom.
I don’t.
“Been better.” I hold back a cough. Take a deep breath, or I’ll pass out. Again.
I won’t. Can’t.
“There you go.” Her eyes grow soft as she hands me a mask. Would you look at that? She’s keeping me. “We’ll get you to the hospital in no time.”
I almost cry at that, but instead, I cough.
Pulling a mask over my head while I’m shivering is a struggle.
I do it anyway. My driver doesn’t deserve to catch this monster virus or bug.
There. Done.
While she navigates through traffic, I try hard not to lose consciousness. The darkness is so soothing. Too soothing and?—
The lady who isn’t Mom opens the car door. “We’re here.”
So nice of her to carry me to the ER’s sliding doors.
“Excuse me,” she calls out over the endless chatter. “Anyone, please? This lady needs help.”
Everyone here needs help. Under the fluorescent lights, I see all of them.
Holy shitballs. When I say all of them, I meanallof them.
