After I’ve lost my panic, I nod. “Let’s go!”
While this health clinic doesn’t look vaguely scary, the first thing I say when Dr. Jay walks into the exam room, the one where I’m trembling on the table, is, “Please don’t cut off my arm. Just the cast.”
He assures me that the scary circular saw he’s holding will cut only through my cast and not my skin.
I about fling myself into him for a hug when the nasty cast has been cut off. “Oh my God, thank you!”
He laughs. “You’re welcome.”
After yet another X-ray, which seems to satisfy him, he takes my arm in his and bends my wrist back and forth and sideways, and I grimace.
“It’s going to be sore for some time. Do the things that are tough, but not too tough. Yeah, it’ll feel like you’re going to break it again, but you won’t. The bones have officially healed, but you’ll hurt for a bit. Ice is your friend. More importantly, do the exercises that I’m sending you. You’ll hate them, but they’ll help.”
The soft brace he hands me feels like nothing compared to what I’ve been living with, and so I welcome it. While my wrist does feel strange and achy and not like my own, I’m just so happy and rush out of the room, absolutely thrilled to have that bastard cast gone.
“I’m going to lift heavy cast iron pots, and shovel, and whatever!” I exclaim as I burst into the waiting room.
Getting that godforsaken cast off has left me euphoric.
“No, no! No to the shoveling and heavy pots, please!” Dr. Jay calls after me. “Again, ice and exercises, yes?”
“Yes, sir, Doc! Ice, ice, baby!” I salute him, then wave a hand and yell, “Let’s go, my littles! I never want to be at a wrist-related clinic thing again.” My overzealous wave sends shocks of pain down my arm, and I wince. “This does still suck,” I say, totally full of piss and vinegar. “Why does it still hurt so much? I hate everything about my body.”
Dave is soon behind me, walking me outside and whispering, “I certainly don’t hate everything about your body.” His hands set against my waist, and he whispers in my ear, “Or anything.”
He’s lucky I don’t trip.
“Get a room, you two.” Anjanette directs her broad smile at David. “Oh, that’s right; youhavea room. Because you’re living together.”
Both of us go silent as we stumble for a few feet.
“We’re notlivingtogether,” I say emphatically. “Like, notliving together,living together intentionally. Right?”
It seems I have to ask him to confirm this.
Dave nods. “Yes. It’s been circumstantial.”
Anj does a fake-shrug thing. “Of course. So, circumstantial, even while there’s a second bedroom at the Airbnb? Gotcha. I can see how you’re forced to sleep together,” she says without hiding her laugh. “Platonically.”
“It’s not very platonic,” I holler out. “Like, it was, but now, not at all!”
“Yeah, I think she got that.”
More gently, Anj asks, “You taking her home?”
“To pack her arm on ice, yes,” he answers. “And stop it with that gleeful face. It’s overly exuberant.” Dave ushers me to the passenger seat and buckles me in, unable to hide his mixed groan-laugh.
Her cheering and joyous voice echoes as she basically skis over to her car. “Goddamn! I love this all for you both so much! Talks about living together? No conking anyone on the head with a cast while not platonically sharing a bed? It’s too cute.”
Just as Dave puts the car into gear, Anj slams her car next to us, her window down and a mischievous smile at the ready.
Dave sighs and lowers his window to meet hers. “Jesus. Now what?”
“Don’t forget to check on your house. I hear the renovations are just about done.” She speeds away before he can reply.
“Stop spying on me!” he calls out weakly, then mutters, “Damn small towns.”
“Your house is all fixed up?” I ask.
