Footsteps shuffled down the foyer a moment later. Ariel flipped the deadbolt and pulled open the door. She looked a little under the weather, with tousled hair and pale skin. The purple knot on her cheek, which was yellow and green around the fringes, had grown larger. She covered her eyes and said, "I'm so embarrassed."
"Don't be. Everybody needs a hand now and then."
She had a small pack slung over her shoulder, presumably with anything she might need for an overnight stay—toothbrush, toothpaste, makeup remover, phone charger—the necessities.
Ariel stepped into the hallway and locked the door behind her.
"Can you make it?" I asked. "Do you need me to carry you down to the lobby?”
"No. Absolutely not. I'm fine. I'm just moving a little slow.”
She touched the wall as she took a few steps and used it to steady herself. She was looking a little uneven.
I helped her down the hallway and into the elevator. She looked a little queasy when we plunged down to the lobby, but settled quickly.
I walked her outside and helped her slip into the Porsche. "There's a bag there if you need it," I said, pointing to the white kitchen bag I had taken from the galley. Just in case of an emergency.
Once she was situated, I closed her door and hustled around to the driver’s side. I slid behind the wheel, dropped the car into gear, and zipped out of the lot. I turned into traffic. Fortunately, it only took about 15 minutes to get to the ER. But that was 15 minutes too long.
We had a little incident along the way, but that's what the bag was for. It sure came in handy.
I parked at the main entrance, helped her in, and brought her to the front desk. I flashed my badge in hopes it would get priority treatment. The place was packed with drunk college kids. There were kids suffering broken noses, broken ankles, dehydration, alcohol poisoning, drug overdoses, you name it.
Overhead fluorescents cast a pale green glow, and a flatscreen on the wall squawked with a 24-hour news channel.
I told the receptionist, "She suffered a head injury six hours ago. Punched in the face. She declined further treatment at the time."
I recapped the situation.
The triage nurse took her back for an immediate eval.
I took the opportunity to hustle outside, move the car, and find a real place to park.
By the time I got back into the ER, they had put her on a bed in the hallway. She wason the wall.There weren't any rooms available. I found her and asked, "How are you feeling?”
She lifted a so-so hand.
"You're going to be just fine. You're in good hands.”
"I'm so embarrassed. I puked in your car.”
I smiled. "It's not my car.”
She laughed.
A nurse came by, did a blood draw, and got her started on a saline IV. “This is Zofran for the nausea. You think you can keep it down?”
“I’ll try,” Ariel said.
The nurse gave her the pill and a small paper cup of water. Ariel sat up and swallowed the pill.
A few minutes later, a tech came and got her for a CT scan.
"You don't have to stick around," Ariel said.
"It's no problem. It won't take long. I’ll just make sure you're out of the woods.”
"Thank you,” she said, as they wheeled her away.
