Page 11 of Missed Steps
I stew about the failed lunch for the rest of the day, and only put it out of my mind when classes are all over and I’m in the library getting stuck into my books. I feel better after getting a lot of work done. I’m so far ahead with my midterms and readings I could cruise right through until the end of semester exams. It’s a nice feeling.
A muffin appears on my papers. I look up in surprise and find my study-buddy—nerdy, blonde-haired, pretty—also setting down a coffee. I hadn’t even noticed him leave.
“For me?” I ask, a smile twitching at my mouth.
“I could hear your stomach from over here,” he grunts, and sits back in his place and picks up where he’d left off without even a second glance in my direction.
I lean back in my chair, stretching for the first time in—I check the time—hours. Dang, I was really in the zone. Studied right through dinner. “Thanks,” I say, picking up the muffin. I eat it quietly—if study-buddy heard my stomach rumbling, then his sharp ears won’t appreciate chewing either—and sip on the coffee. I die a little since it’s black with no milk or sugar, but I’m determined to persevere. It was very thoughtful of study-buddy to get it for me, and the gesture improves my mood. It improves it a lot, actually, and I’m not even too sure why. A lack of friendly interactions recently? I’m lacking friends after all. Bethany’s still cross with me for ditching her party on the weekend.
“Thanks,” I say as I finish up the muffin.
Study buddy glances at me, grunts, and gets back to work.
It’s coming up to nine now, and I glance outside, knowing that Mark will be finishing volleyball any second. He’s already outside, walking out. His head is tipped back, and he’s searching the library windows. I sink down so he doesn’t spot me. This catches study-buddy’s eye. He looks from me to the outside, his gaze landing on Mark, and as his gaze darts back to me raises an eyebrow.
I shrug, staying low and hidden. I’m only hiding because of how embarrassed I am from earlier. I’m about to ask study-buddy if Mark is still looking when my phone vibrates. I pick it up and jolt in surprise.Chrisis the name attached to the incoming call.
I forget all about Mark looking. I stand, lifting the phone to my ear to answer. And I wobble, almost falling, as I put weight on the broke prosthetic. I curse under my breath and grab the back of my chair to save myself. It’s a successful manoeuvre—just about. I glance between the ringing phone, my hidden, damaged prosthetic, and my crutches. This isn’t a dash-out-and take-the-call situation.
I take a deep breath and calm my racing heart. Luckily, the only witness to my stumble was study-buddy.
I answer the phone, pressing it to my ear. “I’m in the library,” I whisper. “Give me a minute.”
“Okay,” Chris replies.
Without hanging up, I stuff the phone in my pocket, get my crutches, and walk to the stairwell. I pick the one further away that hardly anyone uses even when it’s not late at night and almost deserted. I sit on the steps to one side and rest the crutches against my shoulder.
“You there?” I ask.
“I’m here.”
My hand creeps to my thigh and I rub just above where the prosthetic ends. It’s sore inside, and I want to itch the aching skin. If I’d looked yesterday or this morning, I’m sure I would have seen bruising from my tumble. “You’re back at base camp? How was the climb?” I ask. Chris had been escorting several people on a months-long hike up one of the taller mountain ranges in Europe. He’d left cell range a few days before my accident.
“Fine,” Chris says. The short answer tells me something is wrong. He usually gives me a few details over the phone, and I save the thorough investigation until he’s home. I’ve gone on several expeditions with Chris in the past—though none of the ones that last months. I was saving those until after college.
“Are you okay?”
“Emails came through from the insurance company,” he says.
I squeeze my leg tighter, knuckles whitening, and there’s an aching pressure against my fingernails. My eyes water; tears threatening to fall as I drag in a shallow breath. “I had to use it. I was in an accident a few days after you left.” The hospital had tried to contact Chris, as had the insurance company once I’d gotten in contact with them. In his absence, all the decisions had landed on my shoulders. I had the option of contacting family myself, since the only number on my details was for Chris, but when they asked, I objected so violently to the idea that the doctor’s ended up prescribing something that left me zoned out and barely conscious for half a day. I think a note was left in my file because everyone I spoke to after that acted as if Chris was the only family member that had ever existed.
“Are you okay?” His voice is tight.
I don’t think he has the details about my leg, or he’d be less calm. “When are you coming?” I know I’m his first stop. Injured or not, Chris always comes to see me first. It used to be a constant source of jealousy from the rest of my siblings—no matter how hard they tried to impress him, Chris has always favoured me.
There’s a frustrated sigh through the phone. “I’m at second camp. There’s bad weather promised the next week, but as soon as it clears, I’m getting a helicopter to base camp and will be on the soonest flight I can to you.”
“You have to hike from second to base with your clients, don’t you?”
Chris grunts.
I sigh. “You can’t just abandon them in the mountains, Chris.”
“I’ll contact some coworkers. Someone will fly in on the helicopter and take over for me.”
I know the futility of arguing with Chris. “This is why everyone says you’re too protective of me,” I point out. I wanted Chris when the accident happened, but now that I’ve had a few months, I’m apprehensive about it. I’ll probably have to face it all more directly than I am now. Chris is going to obsess about the details of recovery. “I’m alright, Chris. It’s been months.”
“I’m taking the helicopter,” he says, no room for argument.
