Page 32 of Santa Baby Maybe
“I twisted it when I fell. Ow, that really hurts,” she said as she tried again to put some pressure on it.
Great. My grand plan to confront her and I’d ended up hurting her.
Then she looked at me with a somewhat horrified expression in her face. “I don’t know if I can walk on it.”
“Do you think it might be broken?” I asked, even as I made my way to her right side and put my arm around her back and her arm over my shoulder to give her support. With my free hand I pulled out my phone and brought up the Uber app.
“No, I’m certain I just twisted it. Let me try to walk it off.”
“Not going to happen,” I told her. “I’ve called a car. We’ll head to the nearest urgent care and get it X-rayed just to be certain.”
“We don’t need to do that. I’m sure if I just…ow!” She’d gone ahead and tried to put pressure on it, but immediately pulled up. I was tempted to sweep her into my arms and carry her for the rest of the afternoon, but that wasn’t exactly practical. Instead, I settled on taking most of her weight on my shoulders as we waited. However, when the Uber finally pulled up in front of the building, I did lift her into my arms.
“W.B.! I do not need to be carried. Oh my gosh, you’re going to know how heavy I am! Put me down right now!”
“Just open the car door,” I growled. Women, I thought, could be nonsensical. She wasn’t so heavy I couldn’t carry her and that was all that mattered. That and keeping her from jostling her ankle if it was, in fact, broken.
Complying with my order, she did open the door, and as gingerly as I could I settled her inside. I circled the car and got in on the other side. The urgent care was only a few blocks down from the building and within two minutes we were pulling up in front. I had to rush to her, as she was trying to hop away from me, and once again lifted her in my arms.
“W.B.!” she growled again.
“Joy!” I replied in exasperation. “You’re hurt. You can’t walk. Stop fighting me. If you’re afraid I’m going to drop you, I’m not.”
Instead of wrapping her arms around my neck, which actually might have helped my hold on her, she stubbornly crossed them over her chest. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to drop her. She opened the door for the urgent care, and using my hip I was able to maneuver us inside, again careful of her ankle, until I had her seated in a waiting chair.
I crouched down in front her. She was wearing a long skirt, with leggings underneath to protect her from the cold. Carefully, I lifted her booted right foot and settled it on my knee, then gently pulled the leggings up so I could get a look at her exposed ankle. It was already swollen to the size of a baseball.
“Shit,” I muttered. “Okay, wait here while I go get someone.”
“It’s not like I can walk anywhere, Rhett.”
I squinted at her for a second.
“Rhett Butler,” she grumbled. “Who had a propensity for carrying women against their will.”
“Never heard of him. But if he was doing it to keep them from walking on a potentially broken ankle, then he’s my kind of guy.”
I made my way to the receptionist and explained our situation to the woman behind the counter. In less than ten minutes, Joy was being wheeled back into a hallway beyond the waiting room to get her ankle x-rayed.
While I sat down in one of the waiting room chairs, my face planted in my hands.
This day had not gone as planned.
* * *
“I toldyou it wasn’t broken,” Joy said triumphantly as a male nurse wheeled her back into the reception area. An older woman wearing a white coat, whom I assumed was the doctor, trailed behind them holding a pair of crutches.
“Not broken,” the older woman said. “But a bad sprain, which sometimes can be worse. I’ve wrapped it up tight. You’re going to want to stay off it for at least a week.”
I stood and took the crutches from her. “Anything else I need to know?”
“I gave her all my instructions. Keep it elevated, ice until the swelling goes down. And don’t try to put any weight on it. Take a pain reliever if you need it,” the doctor told Joy.
But I was the one nodding. I would get her home first, assess whether she had what she needed, i.e., ice bag, pain reliever, groceries to hold her over for seven days, and if not then do the shopping for her.
“Thank you, doctor,” Joy said as I was pulling out my phone to call for another Uber.
The woman smiled and patted Joy on the shoulder. “Looks like your husband plans to take good care of you. I’ll leave you in his hands.”
