“Trying to get rid of me?” I ask lightly.
“No,” she says quickly. “But you must have patients booked, so?—”
“The senior resident’s seeing them.” And if I didn’t have a resident, the clinic patients could be rebooked. “You want a hand getting onto the stretcher?”
“I’m okay, thanks,” she says, climbing easily up onto the stretcher.
The curtain swishes open again, and Kelly reappears with equipment to draw blood. As soon as that’s done, a tech appears with an ECG machine and explains the procedure.
“ . . . you’ll have to lift your shirt so I can put the stickers on,” the tech tells Ally. “I can get you a gown if you’re more comfortable?—”
“It’s fine,” Ally says. “Go ahead.”
Fuck.I stare resolutely at the curtain until I hear the machine whirr as it spits out the tracing.
“All done,” the tech says brightly, and she disappears with her machine.
“Are you okay if I stay?” I ask. Sophie’s probably going to want to examine her, and since Ally and I aren’t actually in a relationship, I really shouldn’t be here.
But Ally nods. “Yeah. I mean, I’ll be fine if you have to go back to the clinic. But if you can stay . . . I’d appreciate it.”
“Yeah. No problem.”
Before I can say more, Kelly reappears to set up a suture tray. As soon as she leaves, Sophie Kaminsky arrives.
“Hi Ally,” she says, pulling the curtain closed behind her. “I’m Dr. Kaminsky. I understand you fell off your bike?”
“Yeah.” Ally looks embarrassed. “I work here, and it happened right next to the parking lot. I skidded on some gravel as I was turning toward the bike rack.”
“Did you hit your head?” I ask. “Were you wearing a helmet?”
“No. I mean, no I didn’t hit my head, and yes, I was wearing a helmet.” Ally huffs out a sigh. “I’m not an idiot, Drew.”
Sophie’s lips twitch a little before she reverts to professional mode. “Okay. So you didn’t lose consciousness when you fell?”
“No. I just cut my arm, there was something sharp on the edge of the bike rack. It tore right through my sleeve.”
“Okay, I’ll have a look at that in a minute,” Sophie says. “Tell me what happened when you fainted?”
“I didn’t actually faint,” Ally insists. “When I was at the triage desk, I stood up too fast and got dizzy. A nurse helped me sit down, and I was fine.”
“So no chest pain, palpitations, anything like that?” Sophie asks.
“Oh, no, I’m fine.”
Honestly. Even if Ally had the plague, she’d probably still say she was fine.
“Any chance you could be pregnant?” Sophie says. Her eyes stray toward me, as though I might have some insight into the question.
Ally’s cheeks have turned a little pink. “No. Really, it was just because of the pain in my arm. And I forgot to eat breakfast. There was a small flood in my apartment this morning, and I was distracted.”
“I see,” Sophie says, keeping her expression carefully neutral. I’m sure she’s wondering why my possibly pregnant girlfriend is living in a flooded basement apartment north of Duke Street.
Because I’m sure as hell wondering that.
Never mind that Ally’s not actually my girlfriend, and she’s not pregnant. And that Sophie probably doesn’t know where Ally lives. And apartment floods aren’t uncommon, even in places south of Duke Street.
“Ally’s going to stay with me until her apartment’s sorted out,” I say. “Obviously.”
