It's My Life - Stacie Ramey Page 0,50
doctor stops to take my pulse. “You have a broken tibia. No major complications, I’m happy to say. Just your garden-variety leg break.”
“Did I have surgery?”
“No. It was pretty simple. We did a ton of X-rays, and we put you in a cast, obviously, which you’ll stay in for six to eight weeks, depending on how your body heals.”
“How long have I been out?”
“Today is Friday. You got here last night. Not so bad. One full day with drug-induced sleep. I’m afraid you’ll be enjoying our lovely accommodations for a few days, at least. Luckily there are a ton of movies at your disposal.” She hands me a remote. “Try to relax and enjoy a few days off.”
“When can I go back to school?”
“Next week. Why? You have a big project?”
I think of Elsa. And Julian. And the Hockey Homecoming dance. That’s just weeks away, after the second game with Danbury. It’s not like I thought I’d out myself to Julian at that dance. Or that if I did, Julian would be happy and embrace me and we’d be a thing. It’s not that I think that. I don’t. I swear. But…if I’m holed up and in a cast, then there’s no possible way that could happen. And that sucks.
“Whatever the project is, it’ll have to wait a bit,” Dr. Lukowski says.
There’s a knock on the door, and then Eric and Rena come in, both of them quiet, eyes on the floor. Rena pushes her way past the doctor and grabs my hand. “Oh my God, Jenna, I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Her eyes are shiny and wet and I say, “I’m fine. Don’t.”
But it’s too late, she’s crying and Eric is also. “Sorry, sis,” his eyes are hooded. “I…it was…”
“We’ll talk about this later, Eric,” Mom snaps.
“It’s going to be a dark one,” I say.
“What?” Mom demands.
“Your mom-ologue. I’m thinking dark. Like Carrie-the-musical dark,” I say, knowing the reference will simultaneously make Mom irritated and Rena happy. Two birds, one stone sort of thing.
“Or Repo! dark!” Eric adds. Repo! is the musical Mom hates the most.
Dad is a fan, which makes him pump his fist. “Yes!”
“David, don’t start…”
“Sweeney Todd dark,” Eric adds, which makes Rena squeal like a little girl.
The doctor smiles and says, “I’ll see you in the morning. No dancing tonight.”
Such a funny exit line, but my smirk disappears.
“Jenna?”
“Yeah. I’m fine, Mom. I mean, I’m okay, considering.”
“Okay.”
I half expect her to start on her usual deal that this is a good thing. A perspective-building thing. Mom loves some perspective building. But she doesn’t. She cups my chin in her hands and smiles a very Mom-like smile at me. “You rest now. Anything I can bring you?”
“My iPad. My computer.” I think of Julian. “My phone!”
Eric slides a messenger bag toward me, and I grab for it, and he looks puzzled. “You seem pretty excited about your electronics all of a sudden.”
“Yeah. Don’t want to get behind in classes.”
This time Dad scoffs. Mom smacks him. Rena laughs. “What?”
Mom grabs Dad’s arm. “Nothing, sweetie, we just need to get home and let you rest. The nurse will be in soon with more pain meds. Take them, okay?”
Eric kisses me on the forehead. Dad on my cheek. Rena leans down and hugs me. “You scared the shit out of me.”
I grab her shoulders, make her stay close. “I’m sorry. But, Rena did I…did anyone see me…”
“No. Nobody knows anything. I mean if you even… It wasn’t like that,” she whispers.
Relief and embarrassment compete for equal attention inside me.
“You went down. We all jumped up. You sort of passed out. But nothing else, I swear. We called the ambulance, and Julian and I waited with you while we let them in.”
“Was I talking?”
“No. You were just lying there, being brave. So it was all fine. Promise.” Rena moves a piece of my hair behind my ear, like I used to do for her when she was little and climbed in my bed and asked me to read her a fairy tale.
“Thanks.”
Mom leans in to kiss me, and as soon as she does, a nurse pushes open the door. Not my usual nurse, Gary, but a stranger with a needle full of pain meds for my IV. And a sour look on her face. Perfect. “Best let her rest,” she tells Mom.
“We’re just leaving,” Mom answers, and pushes the rest of my family toward the door.
Eric is the last to go. “Wait,” I call.
He stops, his foot in midair. He keeps it dangling