Ugh. He’s got to be so scared and in so much pain. He’s strong, but?—
I call again, and again no answer.
Maybe I should call the person he’s with? The only person that I can think of is his boss, or maybe my dad. It’s got to be my dad, so I call him.
Thankfully he answers. “Hey, Le?—”
“Where is he? Is he okay? He didn’t answer his phone, and I just know he’s in pain. Are you with him?” Izzy chuckles, and I sigh in relief. “Oh, thank fuck. You’re conscious and not dead.” He giggles again. “And on the good drugs, I see.”
“Not dead.”
“What happened, though?”
“It was cold, and I tripped, my shoulder and arm.” Izzy sounds like he’s regressing, and I’m worried my dad won’t be able to handle a Middle Izzy.
“He tripped over a chainsaw, broke his arm, and had to get nine stitches on his shoulder,” Dad says.
“No fucking way you tripped over a chainsaw! You’re making that shit up.”
“Language, Leo, you’re on speaker,” Dad scolds me, and I roll my eyes.
“Then shut the fucking door or turn the volume down, old man.” He’s such a nun sometimes.
“I’m going to hang up.” Shit, I know that tone, and he means it.
I take a deep breath. “Alright, alright, fine. Tell me how it happened.”
“That’s it,” Dad grumbles.
“You’re no help. Tell me what happened, boo.”
“I broke and it hurts.” He sounds so sad, and I can’t believe I’m not there for him.
“Do you need surgery?”
“No, we’re just waiting to see if the bone is back in place before they put on his cast.”
“What’s the plan after?”
“It’s supposed to snow tonight but just a few inches, so I’m going to take him back to the cabin.”
“Damn right you are. He shouldn’t have to sit in your huge-ass truck for an hour and a half while in pain.”
“I’m worried we might get stuck up there,” Dad says softly.
“The cabin is totally stocked with everything you and Iz would need for the next year.”
“Yeah, but the plows don’t come through until after the main roads are clear.”
“So enjoy the time off,” I tell him. He needs it.
Izzy yawns loudly, and my dad announces sternly, “Okay. We’re going to go. Izzy needs to rest.”
“I’ll call tomorrow, you or where’s my phone?” I can picture Izzy looking around the room for his phone.
“Right there,” Dad says.
“I’ll be waiting for your call. Love you, boo. I’ll be there to take care of you as soon as I can.” And I mean it. I’m going to text my boss and tell him I’m out of here.
