I don’t even bother to look at him because I know his face looks just like it did the majority of the car ride here. “No, it’s fine. I can do it. I have to do it. It’s not like you’re going to be around all hours of the day to write for me whenever I need you to. I might as well start working on it now,” I say with a sigh.
After about five minutes, the only thing I have managed to write is my name and half of my address. I blow out an exaggerated deep breath. Blake reaches over and grabs the clipboard from off my lap.
“What the–?”
“Seriously, Alex. I get it. You can do it. But honestly, at this rate, your hand will be completely healed by the time you’re finished. Just let me write the information for you. It’ll be a lot faster and we can get you home sooner. I’m sure your girls don’t want to spend the next week in this hospital because their mother is too stubborn to let a friend write some information for her on a piece of paper.”
Okay, first of all – using the kids is really low. Second of all, how does he know I have “girls”? First he knows where I work, now this? I find this very, very interesting.
“Fine. But only because I want to get out of here. I hate hospitals.” I say the last part without even meaning to. It just slips out, and when I turn to look at Blake to see if he caught it, he’s looking right back at me with heavyhearted eyes.
Don’t do it…Don’t say it…
“I was sorry to hear about Derek, Alex. I can’t even begin to imagine a loss like that. You had been together for–”
“Seventeen years,” I finish for him. “Yeah, it definitely wasn’t easy.” I let out a deep breath and slap my good hand down on my leg. “But life goes on, right? Can we just get back to the paperwork?” I’m in enough pain right now without even approaching that discussion.
“Of course.” Blake obviously understands and doesn’t say anymore.
Fifteen minutes later the paperwork is done and turned in to the check-in desk. Okay – so maybe he had a point. Thirty minutes after that, we’re in the exam room waiting for the doctor. Blake hasn’t really said much since I shut down the attempt to have the “Derek’s Untimely Death” discussion. I think he’s worried about upsetting me, so I decide to make an effort and engage him in conversation.
“So, Blake, what have you been doing since graduation? You kind of just disappeared.”
“Yeah. I...well, I just needed to get out of this town. There really wasn’t anything for me here anymore.” He shifts his weight uncomfortably in his chair. I can’t help but feel there’s more he wants to say, but he skips right over the comment and keeps talking.
“I headed out to Colorado and took some business classes. Then I transferred into the University of Colorado and got a degree in Construction Engineering Management. I knew I wanted to stay in dad’s line of work and eventually take over his business if he needed me to. But, he didn’t need me right then, so I started my own construction business in Colorado. I still own the business and luckily, I can manage it from here, but eventually I’ll need to figure out what I’m going to do with it.”
“Hmm. Tough one. Would you rather stay in Colorado?” I ask.
Running his hand through his hair he says, “I thought I did. Now I’m not so sure. I guess I’ll have to figure something out soon though.” I start to ask another question, but we’re interrupted by the doctor. As he enters the room, Blake and I both look at him, then immediately look at each other with our eyes raised and mouths open in surprise. As we quietly giggle, it becomes more and more difficult to contain. There’s just something extra funny about trying to cover up laughter; it makes it virtually impossible and there are only so many times you can raise your hand to your mouth and clear your throat. Yeah, it’s completely obvious we are laughing at this man.
Sitting right on the end of his nose, is the largest, darkest mole I’ve ever seen in my entire life. It has a hair sticking out that is approximately three inches long. I feel the sudden urge to grab my purse and get my tweezers. I look over at Blake and watch his lips as he silently mouths Guaca-mole.
Damn you, Austin Powers.
Stop it, I mouth back at him.
When the doctor approaches the table, I feel my eyes start to cross as they continue to focus on his nose. Over his shoulder, I can see Blake still holding his hand over his mouth trying to cover his laughter. I try to straighten my face, but it doesn’t work, so I just go with it and flash the man the biggest, fakest smile I’ve ever attempted. It seems the easiest thing to do at the moment.
Dr. Mole begins to examine my hand, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s getting enjoyment out of inflicting excruciating pain on my poor fingers.
It’s at that point that I decide I can’t continue to look at Blake …I don’t think my fingers can take anymore. So in an attempt to maintain a straight face, I move my eyes to focus on the floor. I breathe in deeply – both in effort to stop laughing and to manage the pain now radiating through my hand all the way up my arm.
The doctor finishes his exam and leaves the room without saying another word. Blake and I look at each other, finally free to laugh out loud.
“Holy Moley! Did you see the size of that thing?” Blake lets out a chuckle. I smile to myself. Oh, Austin Powers. How you make me laugh.
“That poor man. I feel bad for laughing. But really? He’s a doctor. There isn’t anything he could do to remove it? I mean, he does have to talk to people all day.” I shake my head in disgust. “It was even worse up close, Blake.”
Blake lets out a loud laugh. “Well, I feel bad enough you have to be here. I would feel really bad if you had been poked in the eye with that thing. Did you see the length of that whisker? It may actually be Guinness Book of World Records worthy.”
I let out another giggle, this time covering my mouth in case the doctor walks in. It feels really good to laugh.
The doctor enters the room shortly after, keeping a safe distance from me this time. He throws the x-rays up on the lit board and tells me that I haven’t broken any bones. I do, however, have some bone contusions and soft tissue injuries. Blake lets out a sigh of relief and pats my arm, letting me know he’s sorry.
After Dr. Mole finishes his expert diagnosis, I walk out of the exam room with my fingers splinted and wrapped in gauze, and with a prescription for pain medicine. Making my way though the ER waiting room and into the main lobby, I find myself pummeled by three little girls and one Harlow. They all immediately look at my hand with huge eyes.
“Oh my gosh. Mommy, what happened? Are you okay?” Rylie asks, looking at my hand sadly.
“I’m okay baby. I just got my hand caught in the door. No broken bones so mommy will be just fine. Don’t worry, cuckoo head.” I give her a big hug, being extra careful with my hand.
“Mama – are you sure? That looks like it hurts a lot! Do you want me to carry your purse?” Kyndall offers.
I give her a grateful smile. “Kyndall – that would be really helpful actually. Thank you so much, my sweet baby girl.” I lean over to give her a squeeze while still holding on to Rylie.
“No, Mommy! I’m the baby!” Rylie shouts and pushes Kyndall away from me. Seriously, we’re doing this right now? What happened to feeling sorry for mommy?
“No, you’re not,” Kyndall shoots back. “You’re four years old now. You’re not the baby. You’re a big girl. Isn’t that what you’re always saying? Like, all day long? How you’re a big girl now? So there–” She crosses her arms over her chest and finishes with an exaggerated “hmpf”.
Getting another push in, Rylie yells again, “Yes I am, Kyndall!” Then she takes a breath as if to calm herself down. “Stop talking at me Kyndall, you make my head hurt.”