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Chapter 6: Two Things Broken
Part 1: Sam
Sam had news for Sophie. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that good of news. He had chatted with the florist, who recognized the arrangement but had no cameras in the vicinity. The buyer, a young-ish male of average height, average weight, wearing average clothes, with no identifying features (or hair color, apparently) had paid cash for the flowers. Totally useless.
He also had a few things he wanted to talk about with her. Now that he suspected someone was messing with her at the least, he wanted her to be more on her guard than before. More observant, more suspicious, more aware.
He was just putting his car in gear to leave the station parking lot at the end of shift when his phone buzzed in his pocket. For half a second he thought about ignoring it. He was tired, but it was the unfortunate tired of a boring shift. With a sigh, he put his car back in park and nabbed his phone on the last ring.
“Hey, Sophie,” he greeted with a smile. Definitely worth postponing the drive home.
For a few seconds, he heard nothing, then something faint, like a sniffle. Was she crying?
“Sophie? Are you okay?”
“I… I fell,” she said softly. Yes, she was crying.
“Are you hurt?” Sam asked the most important question first.
“I think so… My wrist is swelling,” she replied, almost sheepish.
How does a grown woman fall so hard? He shook his head; it didn’t matter.
“Where are you? Do you need a ride to urgent care?” he asked.
“I’m on the way there,” she said. “You’re on speaker.”
Now he noticed the background noise. At least there was only one urgent care option in town.
“I can meet you there in two minutes if you’d like,” he offered.
“Please,” she whispered, then sniffed some more.
“I’m going to hang up so you can drive safely. I’ll be waiting at the entrance, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, Sam.”
He was parked and waiting when he saw her car pull up, so he jogged across the parking lot to her. When he opened the door, he saw her cradling her left arm across her lap while trying to gather her phone and purse with just her right. Under the sleeve of her sweatshirt, her wrist was bruised.
“Hey. Need a hand?” he offered.
“Thanks,” she smiled weakly, and he saw the tear tracks still wet on her cheeks. He took the purse and phone she held out, then waited while she somewhat awkwardly exited the vehicle.
“Hurts?” he asked, feeling stupid the second he did. But she sent him such a grateful smile.
“Yeah,” she admitted with a sigh. “I feel so silly.”
“What happened?”
She hesitated just long enough to make him suspicious…
“A lift went wrong while we were dancing,” she muttered. “I can take my purse now.”
“I don’t mind carrying it,” he replied easily, mulling over her words. “What does that mean, a lift went wrong?”
“It means someone was supposed to hold me in the air and somehow, I fell.” Now she sounded annoyed. At him? At the fall? He wished he understood more. He also wished he knew what to say, but thankfully, they had reached the triage desk.
“What brings you in tonight?” asked a pleasant, gray-haired nurse behind the counter.
“I fell and hurt my wrist,” Sophie answered, gingerly holding out her purpling appendage.
“Poor dear,” the nurse tsk’ed. “You’re too young for that! All right, paperwork first. Paper or digital?”
“Digital is fine,” Sophie answered. Sam held out her phone to her silently.
“QR code there takes you to the right place. Once you get pre-registered, you’ll be added to the queue. Someone will call you from that door,” the nurse explained, gesturing to a set of green double-doors across the lobby. “Just keep working on the forms until they come.”
“Thank you,” Sophie nodded, then turned to Sam. He took her right elbow and guided her to a pair of free seats in a quiet corner of the room. Thankfully, this evening the waiting room was only occupied by a mom and drippy-nosed toddler besides the two of them.
“I’m sorry for disturbing your Friday evening, Sam,” she apologized softly as they took their seats. He gripped her right hand around her phone, squeezed her fingers, then let go.
“I’m glad you called, Sophie,” he assured. “Promise.”
She looked at him skeptically, then turned her attention to the forms on her phone. He let her work silently until about 15 minutes later when her name was called.
“Do you want me to stay here or come with you?” Sam asked.
She chewed on her lip, visibly considering his words. Her head tilted from side to side occasionally as she thought, and he imagined the move correlated to considering the various positions of the argument.
“Would you mind coming? But I’d feel bad if I asked you to leave later… So maybe I should -“
He laid a hand gently over hers. “It’s fine. I’ll come and stay for as long as you need me.”
A tear snuck out and her smile trembled as she thanked him, then rose to follow another nurse in green scrubs through the green doors. Apparently they liked color-coordinating here.
They were settled in a curtained-off room, Sam on a chair and Sophie on the bed, swinging her long legs side to side. She finished the forms on her phone while they waited for yet another person to come and start her exam.
“I really am sorry,” she whispered, chewing on her lip. “I didn’t know who else to call.”
Sam scooted the wheeled chair forward until he could grasp her uninjured hand.
“I told you I was glad you called, and I meant it. I know you don’t have family here, and I don’t hear you talk about friends except for dancing, which you hold close to your vest.” She blushed and ducked her head. “That doesn’t bother me. At all. I’m actually honored to be the one you called. I’m guess you’d have preferred family. If I’m second to them, I’ll take it.” He winked to keep the statement light, but realized his words had more weight than he perhaps intended.
It took over two hours to get through the interview, exam, and X-ray before they finally decided Sophie had broken her wrist – well, actually, one of her forearm bones, but very close to the wrist. The doctor called it a “distal radius fracture”, apparently the most common wrist fracture when you land on your hand. Of course Sophie tried to catch herself.
Her wrist was too swollen to cast, so they wrapped it and gave her a sling, then hopped her up on some pain meds that gave her the mannerisms of a slightly intoxicated person.
“I can’t drive…” she murmured dreamily as Sam guided her by the elbow back out into the waiting room.
“No, ma’am, you cannot,” he agreed with a grin. “I’ll drive you home and get your car to you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” she lilted. Man, was she loopy. He got her out to his car, safely home, and up the stairs to her apartment before she nearly fell asleep on her feet.
“Hang on there, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright.
“Hmm?” she mumbled.
“Keys, please,” he directed. She simply handed over her small purse. He felt a little awkward digging through her bag, but at least she wasn’t the sort to stuff a million things into a tiny space. He had her door open in a few seconds, then guided her as far as her bedroom door.
“Need help with your shoes?” he offered, noting she wore thoroughly knotted lace-up tennies. Might be hard to undo.
“Huh?” she asked, then blinked sleepily at him and her feet. “Oh…”
“Yeah, oh,” he agreed. “Have a seat on your bed.”
Instead of sitting, she flopped on her back, never opening her eyes. Sam tried hard not to look around too curiously, but to just focus on unlacing her shoes and setting them beside the bed. There was a throw blanket folded neatly over the foot of her bed, so he grabbed that and draped it gently over her. She was out cold.
He let himself out, locking her door and pocketing her keys. He’d see her in the morning.