“That’s not even the point. What are you even laughing at?”
I threw my hands in the air and stepped into the bathroom to take pictures. Texting Linda the photos, I asked her to pick up Jurnee’s toiletries or something as close as possible if she couldn’t locate the right items.
Eric was on the edge of Jurnee’s neatly made bed when I stepped out of the bathroom that was definitely smaller than the shower in my bedroom in my parents’ house.
“We are in what Jurnee calls her sublet, which is exactly a fourth of the bathroom on the third floor at Anderson’s parents’ house. He and I are in here, and we could not fit another person. Oh! It’s half the size of my first apartment. Remember, down from NYU.”
“And,” Bryan pushed.
“Anderson is packing her shit to take over to her at his house. Not the parents’, but his place.”
Bryan yelled into the phone, “You took her to your fuck spot?”
“Why is this suddenly my spot?”
“You own the house. If I owned the house, it would be my spot.” Eric dropped the last piece of information. “And she is injured and won’t go to urgent care because she can’t afford the medical bills.”
“Dude, take your woman to the doctor.” Bryan snapped.
“I offered to take her and offered to pay the bill.”
Bryan interrupted, “Why would you take her to the fuck pad and not back to your parents? I thought you liked her. I mean, you introduced her to us without checking with us.”
“Bryan–” Eric tried to check his friend.
“No, Eric. Let’s talk about this. Do you have a problem with this?” I stopped what I was doing to wave my fingers for Eric to hand me his phone.
Eric exhaled and brushed off my request for his phone. “This is not why I called you. Can we focus on the fact that Anderson wants to move in with Jurnee?”
Silence.
32
Jurnee
The throbbing in my ankle woke me from my dreams. The Tylenol I had taken after my fall had worn off. By the silence in the house, it seemed Anderson was not back from picking up a few things from the sublet. I touched my ankle to see if the swelling had reduced. It had not.
There is no way you are going out tonight. Reaching for my phone, I scrolled to Soraya Morgan’s name and hit text.
Jurnee - I have to cancel wine night.
Soraya - Not allowed. I got a babysitter, and Graham has a late meeting.
Jurnee - Hurt myself at Central Park. Can’t really walk.
I attached a picture of my ankle with a huge bag of ice resting on it. There was no way I was lifting the bag and looking. The swollen purple color was getting worse, and I knew I would have to go get it looked at.
Soraya - Oh fuck. What did the doctor say?
I sent her the shrugging girl emoji.
Soraya - No insurance?
Jurnee - Out of network. It’ll cost a fortune.
Soraya - I remember those days. Where are you?
Jurnee - Apparently, I’m at Anderson’s actual house. Which is almost as nice as his parent’s home.
Soraya - LMAO He is doing everything all backward with you. I’m enjoying this so much. Stay there. I’m on my way.
Jurnee - I don’t think I can go anywhere.
An hour later, Soraya stormed into the living room loaded down with bags and being followed by a handsome older man. Leaning down to hug me, she whispered that she was there to help and not to worry about the insurance stuff.
“Jurnee, I’d like to meet Dr. Braxton Harlow.” Soraya moved a chair from the other side of the room and placed it in between the sofa and the large coffee table. “He’s a legal drug dealer, but he’s also the kindest doctor that I know. Braxton, sit here.”
“Very nice to meet you, Sir. I’m sorry for not standing to greet you properly.” I pushed my hair out of my face to give the doctor a smile.
“Nonsense, no need to get up. I understand you took a tumble and twisted your ankle. Is that about right?”
“It is.”
“May I take a look?”
I nodded as Soraya took the ice pack from me and headed toward the kitchen. As the doctor moved and turned my foot, I scrunched my face up from the pain. Soraya returned in time to see him gently set my foot back on the pillow after his thorough examination.
“The good news is it isn’t broken. The not so great news