Rolling him into the building, I pull up to the admitting desk. Eli hands over his insurance card and explains his situation to the woman as she presents him with a clipboard holding a number of forms. She types some things on her computer and says, “Fill those out. They’ll call you when they’re ready for you. Give them those”—she points to the clipboard—“when they call you back.”
“Okay,” we say simultaneously.
I pull him away from the desk and sit quietly as he fills in all the blanks. It doesn’t take Carley long to park and find us. “I figured you’d already be in a room.”
“Too many forms,” Eli mutters as he scribbles down answers.
“Eli Baxter,” a voice from behind us says loudly.
“Here,” I say as I jump up from my seat so I can wheel him back.
“He can wheel himself back there,” Carley grumbles.
Eli looks up from his papers and addresses Carley, “I want Emma with me.”
“Nowyou do.” She crosses her arms and leans back into her chair. “Now that you need something.”
I should say something to defend him, but I’m sort of in agreement with her, so I keep quiet and turn his chair so I can roll him straight toward the person waiting to lead us onward.
“Right in here,” the nurse or orderly or whatever he is says. “Hop up on the bed if you can, Mr. Baxter. A nurse will be in shortly.”
As we wait, I address something important. “Do your parents know you flew back home?”
“Yes. I sent them a text before we took off from New York, but I haven’t taken my phone off of airplane mode.”
“Why not?”
I know why. He’s afraid of their response.
“How’s your sister?” he asks, changing the subject.
“You should call them. Let them know you hurt your foot.”
Reaching into his back pocket, Eli retrieves his phone. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Would you like me to leave?” Because I’m not so sure I want to hear this conversation.
“Stay.”
“Sure. Okay.” I nod as I sit back in the chair. I watch as he fiddles with his phone. It dings multiple times.
“Lots of angry texts,” Eli says absently. “Just going to call Mom first.”
“Wise plan.” That’s who I’d rather talk to as well.
Placing the phone over his ear, I hear her voice from where I’m sitting. “Eli Franklin Baxter…”
Uh, oh. She broke out the middle name. He’s in trouble for sure.
“How dare you fly off—”
Wisely, he interrupts her. “I’m in the ER.”
“What?” I hear her voice and it sounded like more of a screech.
“I twisted my ankle. Well, actually, I exacerbated an injury I got at practice on Saturday.”
He listens as his mom talks on the other end. “Yes, Dad knew about it. He was at practice.” He pauses. “Yes, the trainers looked at it. Said it wasn’t anything to worry about.”
