“Okay, well you’re getting one today,” the doctor says and I watch her groan and drop back on the table. I glance at my phone and realize it’s almost six thirty. I was supposed to be at Bradie’s house long before now.
“Shit.” They both turn and stare at me. “I’m so sorry. I have to make a phone call. I’ll be right back.”
I step out of the office and, once on the sidewalk outside I dial Bradie’s number. She doesn’t answer so I dial again. She still doesn’t answer. I dial again.
When she finally answers, she doesn’t let me get a word in. “I get it. You’re not coming. I’m already on my way to the bus station with Duke. Your car is in front of my place. Keys are in the wheel well. Pick it up when you want but that’s it. I don’t want to see you.”
She hangs up just as I’m about to say I’m sorry.
“Fuck!” I hiss and fight the urge to punch the tree I’m leaning on. I totally fucked that up. I didn’t even get a chance to tell her why, not that it matters. I had one chance to fix things, or at least start to, with my sister and I blew it.
I decide to text her anyway, even though I don’t think she’ll even read it. I send three texts in a row explaining Winnie was hurt and I was helping her out. She’s here alone, no family, and I didn’t want to leave her. And I beg Bradie’s forgiveness.
I don’t get a response, just as I expected. The door to the office opens a second later and Winnie hobbles out followed by Dr. Whittaker. Her knee is now wrapped in white gauze. “Thank you so much,” she tells him. “I’m so sorry to bother you after hours and I insist you bill my insurance, Dr. Whittaker.”
“I’ll do that, if I get around to it,” he replies and winks before turning to me. “She’s going to be just fine. No stitches, just some butterfly tape.”
I nod and shake his hand. “Thanks again.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” Dr. Whittaker starts up his stairs to his house but stops for a moment. “Winnie, be sure to keep it clean and no baths or swimming for seven days.”
She nods and turns hobbling down the street back to her house. I fall in step beside her. “You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t want to see a doctor,” she replies tersely.
“You needed to see one. If you didn’t get the doc to patch it up, you’d have a big nasty scar,” I tell her.
“Oh no. What would I ever do with a scar on my knee,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Who would want me without perfect knees?”
“With that sparkling personality, you need all the help you can get,” I reply.
She’s stopped walking now, stunned by my comment. “Fuck you.”
“Yeah fuck me,” I bark back. “I’m such an asshole for trying to make sure you don’t die from your own stupidity. Dumbass me should have ignored you and all your blood just like I’m trying to ignore the bitter sadness on your face every minute of the day and the sobbing you do at night that gets so loud, it’s like you’re a wounded animal. I should have just walked out of the house when I saw you hobble in all bloody and broken. I should have just gone about my day. But I didn’t. And now I’ve got a sister who hates me, still…or again, not sure which, and I can’t even get a thanks from you. So yeah. Fuck me!”
I storm off and leave her standing in the middle of the sidewalk. I don’t head home, I head toward my sister’s house and I curse Winnie Braddock with every step.
8
Winnie
Two hours later, I feel like shit—emotionally and physically. The physical part is from the knee, but the emotional part is from the way I treated Holden. I was way harsher than he deserved. I know that. I knew it when I was doing it, yet I still did it. He’s not home when I get home, so I can’t fix the situation, not that I know exactly how to do that, but I was hoping to start with an apology.
I don’t know where he went, but I expect he’ll be home eventually so I grab a bottle of wine and sit on the porch and wait. My phone rings and for a fleeting moment I find myself wishing it was him, which is crazy because he doesn’t have my number. It turns out it’s Dixie. I answer it, even though I don’t want to. I’ve been avoiding calls from my entire family since I didn’t get on that plane to Toronto, but I know if I do it for much longer they’ll call Ty and then my alone time will turn into family time because they’ll all show up here and try to fix me.
“Hey, Dix,” I say. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” she replies. “Just driving home from work and I wanted to check in. How’s Toronto?”
“Good,” I lie without even thinking about it. I don’t want her to know I’m here. Not yet. “Same as always.”
“Does it still feel like home?” she asks, but she answers the question before I can. “I’m sure it does because of Ty. So how is living together going? Is it a permanent thing or are you going to look for your own place?”
“I want my own place,” I repeat a little too firmly. “I just spent the last two years living with half my family. I deserve my own space.”
“Okay, relax,” Dixie replies. “I just…I don’t know. I can’t imagine not living with Eli.”
“Ty is not Eli,” I reply and try to make a joke to keep it light. “And besides wait until you’re over ten years in. Knowing you, you’ll be build a she shed in the backyard to get away from him. Unless you two dummies are still in that shoebox you call an apartment. Then it’ll be a murder-suicide thing.”
