The doors behind us swoop open, and Oswald comes plowing in with Waylynn’s purse clutched in his hand. “Here you go,” he says, handing the bag over to Waylynn.
“I’ll get you checked in, and we’ll call you back just as soon as we can. I’ll need an ID and your insurance card if you have it.”
Waylynn unzips her bag, and I see her shove the pill bottle to the side before rummaging around and pulling out a wallet. It takes her a second to get her driver’s license out from behind the plastic because her fingers are shaking. The ID is from California, and the picture shows a girl who looks so sad. Her insurance card gets handed over next.
“This will just take me a few minutes. Have a seat in the waiting room and fill this out while I get this entered.” The nurse hands over an iPad in a big bulky case. I reach for it and hand it down to Waylynn. She gives me a soft, appreciative smile as Oswald pulls her away.
I lean over the counter to ask, “How long will it be? She’s in pain.”
“We’ll call her when we’re ready. Have a seat please,” she instructs me as her fingers fly over the keyboard. I huff and walk away. I’m sure that’s the same exact thing she tells everyone.
As I spin, I glance around the large waiting room. There are several people sitting around in tiny clusters. One guy has been coughing since we got in here, but it’s easy to ignore. None of the others look worse off than Waylynn. I hope she doesn’t have to wait for all these people to go ahead of her.
As I amble over to the corner Oz wheeled her into, I watch Waylynn hold the tablet at a strange angle as her fingers move over the screen. Oswald is watching me, not paying much attention to what Waylynn is doing.
“Do you want me to fill that in for you?” I’m so used to doing this kind of shit for Oz, I’m already holding my hand out.
“No, I’ve got it. Thanks.” She pulls the tablet even closer to her chest as she types, making it clear she doesn’t want anyone seeing what she’s writing. I haven’t forgotten about the pills in her bag, and I still want to know what they are, but now isn’t the right time to pressure her.
“Waylynn Graff,” a woman calls loudly. I hop up and get my hands on the back of her wheelchair. I know from experience they may only let one of us back with her if they let us at all, and I want to be the one with her. I’m selfish.
“Hey, hurt your foot, huh?” The nurse angles me out of the way smoothly, taking the handles on the back of the chair. “I’ll take it from here. Give us some time to get her settled, and we’ll give you an update,” she tells me without committing to allowing us back.
“Do you have your phone, sweetness?” I call out as the nurse pushes her through the double doors. “Call us.” I order the last part. I know how long it can take the staff to update families. Shit, we’re not even her family.
“I will.” She bites her bottom lip and looks back at us like she doesn’t want to go in alone either. Damn it.
Waylynn
“I’m Amy.We’ll get you triaged, and you can finish filling that out while I get you all set up,” the nurse says, pushing me down the long hall.
“I’m almost done,” I admit. I was rushing a bit because I didn’t want the guys seeing my medical history. It feels dumb now though. I’d rather they be here. “Will they be allowed to come in and sit with me?” I feel like a little kid asking for their mom, but I don’t really care. My foot hurts, and I don’t want to be alone.
“Let’s see what we have going on first. I have a feeling we’re going to need some X-rays, and they can’t be with you for that anyway,” she answers dismissively. This probably doesn’t feel like a big deal to her. I’m sure she sees worse stuff all the time.
“Okay,” I say softly.
“Do you think you can get on the bed yourself?” she asks after wheeling me into a small, individual room.
“I think so.” I lean my palm on the bed and hop on my good foot. The jostling of my other foot has me hissing, but I manage to get my butt on the bed with my eyes watering a little. It’s harder not to cry now that I’m alone—well, with this stranger.
“Oh, that is swollen. I’m going to lift your foot onto the bed,” she warns, grabbing my leg high on the back of my calf.
“Ouch.” I wipe a tear off my cheek when my ankle lands on the noisy mattress.
“I’m going to get an IV started so we can give you some medicine that will help after we get you X-rayed. Any latex allergies?”
“Not that I know of.” My teeth start to chatter.
“Can you tell me what happened?” The nurse rounds the bed, going to a computer mounted on the wall.
“Um, we were all sitting on a futon and it broke. I think Oswald kind of landed on my foot, then he rolled off.” She doesn’t need to know we were kissing, right?
“Are those your friends? Brothers?” She takes the time to look over at me, waiting for an answer.
“Um, friends?” It sounds like a question even to me.
“What happened to your chin under your lip?” She’s still watching me. Damn it, I forgot about that.
