Page 57 of Really Truly Yours
Donny jerks his chin. “That’s what I told ’em, but they insist on these pointless tests.”
I plant my palms and lean onto the footboard. “What’s your pain level on the ankle? Scale of one to ten?”
He grunts. “You sound like them nurses.”
“Sorry, been asked that a lot myself lately.”
I feel Sydnee’s gaze flit over me.
“’Bout a four now. They give me a shot of something.” He turns pensive. “It happened so fast, or I’d a told ’em no. Don’t need no more drugs like that in me.”
Sydnee’s fingers visibly clamp harder. “I’m sorry, Donny.”
I awkwardly pat his foot. We’ve talked these last few days and walls are coming down, but nothing will erase the near-lifetime gap in our relationship. “It’ll be alright, man.”
I groan in my mind. Who doesn’t love a good platitude?
Sydnee asks Donny if he’s cold, hunts down an extra blanket, finds him some water. Right as she gets him situated, an orderly type shows up to take him for an x-ray.
She and I are directed to a different waiting area, where the languishing begins. Eventually, we’re informed of more tests and of the plan to keep him overnight. They say they’ll come for us once he’s moved to a room.
By ten, I’m slouched low in my plastic chair. “I hope he doesn’t end up with a roommate.”
Sydnee makes a noise. “No way is the government paying for a private room.”
She has a point.
I get up and pace, probably annoying the one other person sharing the space. Sydnee declines my offer of coffee, so I’m off to hunt one down for myself.
Inhaling steam off the watery brew on my return to the waiting room, I pass a nurse’s station and form an idea. Both of the ladies at the desk are young and attractive, so I rest my forearms onto the high counter and zero in on the one who tosses me the look.
“Where have you been?” Sydnee asks as I sink into my seat some time later, our shoulders whispering against each other.
“Had to talk to someone from the business office.”
“Oh.” She yawns, covering her mouth with both palms.
“You want me to take you home?”
Her tired eyes scream yes. “I’m staying with Donny.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll be here.”
She becomes borderline indignant. “I want to be here.”
It’s almost as if Donny is Sydnee’s only friend. Does she have others in her life? Sorry, but it’s odd, a young woman attached to an old man who can do nothing for her. I know from personal experience the guy isn’t the nurturing type, so what is it?
I tip my head back, bumping an ugly print someone hung too low. The waves of gall generated by thoughts of Donny arrive less frequently now, only occasionally rolling through.
I close my eyes and drift, my thoughts wandering barely above the surface of sleep. The plan has been to stay in Chandor until my nephew bursts onto the scene. After that, either surgery or intensive physical therapy in Houston. Since the nagging twinge flared to stabbing pain the day of the air-conditioning adventure and hasn’t faded, I can guess which it will be.
I’d cuss the whole episode except, well, Sydnee. Her face that afternoon, hovering above mine. No effort at all and I could have brought her in for a kiss.
Shoot, there’s that darned testosterone playing its tricks again.
This feels a bit different though.
Shoot, shoot. Slapping my freaking thighs, I stand, jolting my partner. I make my smile an apology. “Sorry.”