“You need an emergency room.” He reaches for my leg once more, so I sit down on the steps and hope it will deter him.
I lift my pant leg, but stop once I reach the top of my white sock. Scott’s seen all he’ll see today. “I’ll prop it up at my desk.” I wave off his concerns with my words and a hand.
“Marissa, it’s already swollen. You need to get this looked at. What if you broke it?”
My eyes widen at his suggestion I’ve broken my foot. I’m sure Scott’s crazy and over concerned. Before I tell him my thoughts on the matter, I examine the ankle in question and notice how my sock’s puffed out more than normal. Crap.
He must see the panic in my eyes because he abruptly stands and holds a hand out. “Come on. I’ll drive you to the walk-in clinic on California Street. My girlfriend works there, and she’ll make sure you don’t wait too long.”
Girlfriend? When the hell did that happen? I allow Scott to pull me up since I’m no longer concerned with my self-respect or dignity in front of him. It must be shock, but not over my ankle. It’s this whole new girlfriend situation.
“Watch the box this time,” he says with a huge grin on his face and a laugh under his breath. Scott helps me down the steps and allows me to lean on him for support.
**
I push twenty dollars through the plastic divider between the front and back of the cab, anxious to breathe air that doesn’t stink of cabbage.
“No change,” I say as I throw open the cab door.
My hand catches the crutch tucked under my arm and it swings back almost hitting me in the face. I avoid the black eye from that attempt, but navigating around with these wooden legs will be harder than I thought. I’ve never had crutches before, and I found the three-minute tutorial my nurse gave lacking in a few major details. Like how the hell to walk with them.
“Do you need help, Miss?” the cabbie asks, but doesn’t leave his seat.
I wrap my purse with my shoe in it around my shoulder and stick the bottoms of both crutches on the ground outside the cab. “Nope. I’m good. Thanks.” With one large push-pull move on the crutches, I clear the cab and fumble with them on the sidewalk for a minute. Somehow I manage to keep my wrapped foot off the dirty ground.
The six tiny steps to the front door of my building take more time than normal, but I’m proud to make them on my own. The lobby door presents the next problem. Tired from the maneuvering I’ve had to do, I lean against the brick exterior of the building. How best to open the door when I can’t use my foot as a prop? I also have both hands wrapped tightly around the crutches to keep my ass standing. I must figure something out if I’m to make it the next three to five weeks the doctor said my ankle will need to heal.
With both crutches in one hand, I reach for the door and pull it open while trying not to fall. My upper body clears the doorway, but the side of my injured foot brushes against the door as I hobble my way over the threshold.
Pain shoots up my leg and the dull throb around my ankle increases. In another five minutes, I make it across the lobby to the stairwell and climb up four stairs. The fifth stair looms ahead and my body gives out. Twisting around, I sit down and gulp in a huge lungful of air. A crutch slips from my fatigued hand and slides to the bottom of the stairwell. It isn’t far, only four steps, but the thought of working my way down there to retrieve it becomes the absolute last thing I’m willing to deal with right now.
I lean forward and put my head in my hands in a worthless attempt to hide the large tears as they track down my face. I’ll never make it up four flights of stairs. Scott left me at the clinic when his girlfriend Kayla’s shift ended, and I lied promising I'd call someone for a ride home.
So far I’ve been able to avoid calling Aspen. She’s babysitting today and never mentioned what time Ben would be back to pick up the baby. If I called she’d race here in a hot minute. But neither her nor Finn have a car, so they’d call Jake or catch a cab… with the baby.
I called Simone twice before I gave up and used a cab. I don’t want to bother either of them on a Saturday night. Yet, now faced with the prospect of crawling my way upstairs, I’ve run out of viable options. The pain pills weigh down my purse, I should have taken one before I left as suggested.
“Marissa?” His masculine voice causes me to tense. I know one other occupant in this building. My landlord.
There’s isn’t another person on the planet I’d rather see less right now. My first thought is of the stupid mat he complained about. I moved it already, but there's probably another sticky note waiting for me on the door. Rule number eleven: No crutches.
My tears run freely, but thankfully I’ve kept any actual sobs in check. I do a quick wipe of my cheeks and pinch my eyes before I raise my head. There’s no way to hide what I’ve been doing on these stairs. Regardless, I put on my most unaffected expression.
Lips tight and eyes a smidge narrowed, I stare at Ryland’s chin. “Yeah.”
A pair of blue gym shorts hang low on his waist reaching to his knees. His chest is covered with a large plain white shirt. He looks as if he’s come from the gym, but it’s still hot in an annoying way only a guy could pull off. Why does he have to look so good while I'm over here a mess?
He takes two tentative steps in my direction but pauses when my eyes narrow more. “Is everything okay?”
Why are men so stupid? Does it appear everything is okay? How often does he find crying chicks on the apartment stairs, a pair of crutches on the ground at their feet?
“I’m fine. Taking a break.” I try to maintain my strong appearance, but a sniffle I can’t hold back causes me to reach up and wipe my nose. Classy.
“You didn’t make it far.” Ryland’s head moves from the entry doors to my place on the steps indicating the short distance. Bastard.
I almost roll my eyes, but they’re tired from the crying and don’t have the strength. Silence falls between us and I wait for him to leave so I can get back to my pity party and decide which friend I’ll burden tonight.
“You’re not going to make it up those stairs.” He takes two more steps in my direction as he states the obvious about my current condition.
