[ - ]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story
- Text Size +
Tuesday

“Same old, same old,” he thought as he maneuvered the car through traffic.  “Nothing new ever happens these days.” 

His mind was occupied, and his driving was on auto-pilot.  At one red light, he had to look around for a few seconds to figure out where he was.  But that was the way he liked it. 

Driving by himself was one of his great pleasures and a real stress-reliever.  He could turn things over in his mind, and no one could get at him.  He could even talk to himself behind his tinted windows, and nobody could see him do it.  Or even worse, take a picture of him doing it. 

Kevin was always giving him grief because his car was as environmentally unfriendly as they came.  But he didn’t care.  He was a big man, and he needed the space.  He loved his SUV.  It let him sit up higher than the other cars, and that made him feel more in control.

He meandered through the streets, leaving the busy traffic areas behind.  He knew he had to get to the meeting, but he had lots of time, and he traced a lazy zigzag path through an area of new development – interesting loft-and-studio combinations.  He might not mind living here.  It wasn’t far from the beach, and he liked the idea of an open loft.  He wondered about security, though.

Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes.  A woman was stepping off the curb right into his path.  She seemed unaware that he was even there.  He hit the horn, and she looked up at him vaguely, as if trying to figure out where the noise was coming from.  Realization lit her eyes, and she stepped back.  The car screeched to a halt.  The woman had disappeared from view.

“Oh, my God,” he thought.  “Did I hit her?” 

He hadn’t felt anything hit the car.  He jumped out and ran around the front of the vehicle.  The woman was crumpled on the side of the road.  A purse lay beside her.  He didn’t see any blood anywhere.

“Are you okay?” he asked.  Shit, he didn’t need this right now.  He truly did not need this.

“I’m okay,” she said.  She looked up at his concerned face.  “You didn’t hit me.  I’m sorry…it was so stupid of me.  I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, relieved that she was conscious and talking.  She looked really shaken up, though.

“I think I twisted my ankle.  I caught my shoe in the grating.”

He looked down at her leg.  Her shoe was indeed caught in the grating of the storm drain, and her foot was twisted at an unhealthy angle.  He knelt down and tried to free the shoe.  She groaned plaintively, and her lips went white.

“That hurts, doesn’t it?”  Stating the obvious, aren’t you, you dumb twit, he told himself.  “I think you’ve sprained your ankle pretty badly …maybe even broken it.”

“Because this day didn’t stink bad enough yet,” she groaned.

“This is really going to hurt,” he said, kneeling down beside her.  “I have to get your foot free.  Can you get your foot out of your shoe?  That might be easier.”

She moved her foot a little.  Pain seared her brain.

“Okay, don’t.”  

He didn’t know what to do next.  He looked up and down the street.  Trust him to find the only friggin’ street in the whole city with no traffic.  He brushed his blond hair out of his eyes. 

“Take a deep breath, and then yell as loud as you can,” he said, placing one hand under her calf and the other on her shoe.

“I’m not six years old, you know.  That’s the old rip-off-the-bandaid ploy that moms…owwwww!” She yelled the final word as he tugged her foot free from the shoe. 

He easily removed the shoe from the grating and held it up to show her.  “Nice shoes,” he said.  “I don’t think it’s ruined.”

She shrugged.  “They’re just shoes.”

“Okay, let’s see if you can stand.” 

He moved behind her and placed his hands gently under her arms.  He lifted her effortlessly to her feet.  He held her steady as she gingerly placed her injured foot on the ground.  The pain shot through her body.  She groaned and sank back against him.

“Okay, so now we know.  Let’s get you to the hospital.  Come on.  I’ll be as gentle as I can.” 

He bent to pick up her purse and placed the shoe inside it.  Then he lifted her in his arms and carried her the few steps to the car.  He realized that the passenger door was locked.  He knew the keys were in the ignition.  Dammit!  Superman never had this much trouble rescuing damsels in distress.

“I have to set you down and unlock the door,” he explained.

“Just lean me up against the car,” she answered.

He stood her gently up.  She gripped the top of the car and stood on one foot, while he raced around the car.  He reached in and unlocked the door and came rushing back.  He opened the door and held her at the waist as she tried to maneuver herself into the car.  She got mostly in; only her right leg was hanging out.

“There is no way to do this without pain,” he said.

“Just do it,” she muttered through clenched teeth. 

She grabbed the sides of the seat and held on.  He quickly lifted her leg by the calf and put it in the car.  He did it as gently as he could, but when he placed her foot on the floor of the car, she groaned, and her eyes rolled back in her head.  She lost consciousness, and her body started to pitch sideways out of the car.

“No.  Oh, shit.” 

He grabbed her and held her body up with one hand while he fumbled for the seat belt with the other.  Good thing she’s unconscious, he thought, as he had to put his hands in rather inappropriate spots to get her securely fastened in the seat.

What kind of idiot are you to be glad the stranger in your car is unconscious? he asked himself, as he sped around the front of the car and got behind the wheel.  He put the car in gear and pulled slowly away from the curb.  He looked sideways at her.  Her eyes were open and she seemed conscious, but she didn’t seem to be aware of where she was.

“How are you doing?” he asked.  “Are you hanging in there okay?”

She was sitting in a cocoon of pain.  Her ankle felt like it was on fire, and the flames were spreading up her leg.  She felt like there was a thick white curtain surrounding her.  From beyond the curtain, she could hear a muffled voice.  She blinked twice and tried to focus on it.

“…your name?”

“Sorry,” she managed.  “What did you say?”

“What’s your name?” he repeated.  He was relieved that she had finally spoken.

“Grace…Grace Barrett.”

“Hi, Grace.  I’m Nick.”

“Hi…listen, I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay.  We’re almost there.  Hang on.”

Nick turned into the entrance of a small neighborhood hospital.  He was lucky he had remembered it was there.  His aunt had spent some time there the previous year having some kind of female surgery.  Nick remembered that there was an emergency room.  He pulled up in front of the door marked ER and got out of the car.  He came around and opened her door.  He reached in to undo the seatbelt.

“You smell good,” said Grace, with half-closed eyes. 

Nick looked around for an attendant or a wheelchair but saw no one.  “Grace, I’m going to get someone…”

“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded, grabbing his hand. 

Nick looked around again but still saw no one.  What’s up with that? he thought.  On television, there were always people scurrying around the entrance to an ER.  A soft groan brought his attention back to Grace.

“Okay, here goes,” he warned. 

He slid his hands under Grace’s body and lifted her halfway out of the car.  She tried to help him, pushing herself off the seat while shifting her weight.  Nick lifted her up and out, knocking her right leg against the doorframe.  The pain raced from her foot to her brain, and everything went grey and hazy. 
Grace knew Nick was talking to her again, but she couldn’t hear him.  His voice was coming from too far away.   She leaned her head against his chest and tried to push back the fog.

Nick could see that Grace was not totally with him anymore, so he quickly kicked the car door shut and headed for the hospital entrance.

“Excuse me…could somebody help me?” he called out, as he entered the ER. 

The automatic doors swooshed shut behind him, and he was greeted by silence.  To his left was a small waiting area with a dozen plastic chairs and a table with some magazines scattered across it.    An old man nodded sleepily in one of the chairs, and in another, a young Latina woman gently rocked a baby on her shoulder, cooing soothing words. 

To his right was a long hallway with doors which Nick assumed led to treatment rooms.  There were two empty stretchers parked outside the nearest rooms.  The hallway was deserted.  Where the hell was George Clooney when you needed him?

Straight ahead was a reception counter, unmanned at the moment.  Nick shifted his arms, getting a better grip by bouncing Grace up into his arms.  This caused her to moan.

“Is there someone who could help us?” Nick called out again.  “Please.” 

Yeah, right, he thought.  Say the magic word.  That will bring them running.

A door opened in the back of the reception area.  A woman in a white uniform came through carrying a cup of coffee.  She took in the picture in one glance and swung into action.  She leaned into a microphone sitting on the counter and pushed a button. 

“Doctor Morris, front desk, now please.” 

The nurse set down her coffee and came around the desk.  She grabbed one of the stretchers from the hallway and motioned Nick to bring Grace to it. 

Nick was relieved that someone had finally appeared – someone who would know what she was doing, someone who had ‘health care professional’ written all over her.  Her name tag said A. Pinero.

“It’s her right ankle,” said Nick.  He set Grace down as gently as he could.

“Okay,” said Nurse Pinero. 

She grabbed Grace’s leg under the knee and calf and helped Nick place her.  She efficiently raised the top half of the stretcher, so that Grace was in a semi-sitting position. 

Click.  Click.  Up went the side railings.

“Dr. Morris will be right out,” said the nurse.  “Let’s get started on the information while we’re waiting.”  She moved back behind the desk and sat down facing the computer.  “Name?”

“Nick.” 

The nurse looked at him over the top of her glasses.  “Her name.”

“Oh.”  Nick blushed and felt stupid.  “Grace…Grace Barrett…but that’s all I know about her.  I was passing by, and she fell, and I brought her here and…”

Nurse Pinero held up her hand to stop the gush of words.  “Did she have a purse?”

Nick looked around helplessly.  He looked at Grace.  Her eyes were clearing somewhat.  “Grace.” He picked up her hand. “Grace, where’s your purse?”

“In the car,” she said.  “It’s in your car.”

Nurse Pinero took charge.  “Okay, Nick, you go get the purse and move your car to the parking lot around the side.  We’ll take care of Grace.”

Nick was reluctant to leave.  He looked at Grace.  She nodded at him. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said after a moment, and he headed for the door.

“Well, aren’t you the lucky one?” Nurse Pinero turned to Grace, who wasn’t feeling very lucky today at all.

“Why am I lucky?”

“Well, if you have to be carried around in someone’s arms, they might as well be attached to Nick Carter.”

“Nick…?”  Grace wasn’t processing information well.

“You know.  Nick Carter…from the Backstreet Boys!”  Nurse Pinero stated emphatically. 

Grace’s eyes grew huge.  “Are you sure?  Omigod, I never really looked at him.  I was just…it just hurt so much…”

“Yes, tell me where it hurts.” 

Dr. Morris had arrived.