“X-ray shows no broken bones. Ultrasound shows no ligament tears,” she said. “Without an MRI we can’t be one hundred percent certain, but in my experience, it looks like a bad sprain. You’re lucky.”
“Yep. That’s me. Lucky.” I brushed a tangle of hair out of my eyes. “What do I do now?”
The doctor smiled gently. “We’ll give you a boot to stabilize your foot, a pair of crutches, more ice packs to take home. Is there someone we can call to come and get you?”
Tears pricked my eyes. “If I had a dollar…” I sniffed and sat straighter. “No. I’m here by myself.”
Doctor Akana frowned, and we both looked at my mud-splattered legs. “I can have the nurses clean you up if you’d like.”
“And wait another four hours in this Arctic hell? No, thanks. Someone less lucky probably needs this bed anyway. I’ll call a cab. Or an Uber.”
“Very well. I’ll get the nurse to bring your paperwork.”
The doc left, and a nurse appeared nearly thirty minutes later to wrap my ankle and put it in a little black boot that came to mid-shin. I signed some papers, and they rolled me in a wheelchair to the front of the hospital.
The orderly waited with me until the Uber arrived—a young guy with a small white Kia.
I hauled myself out of the wheelchair, and the orderly handed me crutches. I’d never used them before and struggled to find my balance. My ankle throbbed. I felt as if I were being cast out of the space station into the unknown, alone.
Just get back to the condo.
And then what? I had no clue how I’d be able to maneuver into a bath to clean myself up. I could change my flight and get the hell out of here, but I had three pieces of luggage to somehow get to the airport. Just the thought of packing in my condition made me tired. And my rental car? How did I return it? I couldn’t drive…
Just get back to the condo, I thought again. Do that first, figure out the rest later.
I crutched three steps to the Kia slowly, awkwardly. Exhausted and wanting to sit.
The Uber driver eyed my muddy clothes dubiously. “Wait, wait. Um, is there a towel we can put down?”
“Seriously?”
“For my back seat?” He looked to the orderly who was already taking the wheelchair back. “Hey, man. Hold up.”
He ran after the orderly, leaving me standing on the curb. Alone.
The dam finally broke and I burst into tears.
TWO
THERE WAS ABSOLUTELY no reason for me to go Wilcox hospital after my shift. None. I had friends there, of course. Docs and nurses and other guys in my line of work whom I saw on the regular. But I had no plans with anyone that night, and didn’t normally make a habit of hanging out at a hospital for shits and giggles. So why was I driving there like a bat out of hell, straight from the fire station, still in uniform no less?
You know why.
I cursed myself for being such a wuss but didn’t turn my Jeep from its course to Wilcox. For her. For Faith Benson, the stunningly beautiful tourist who made bad choices in hiking shoes. Something she had said stuck with me.
I came here to find inner peace… I needed a change.
I’d heard variations on that song a hundred times from tourists I’d come in contact with in my five years on the island. But Faith sounded like she meant it. That her injury had ruined more than a vacation for her. It’d been…
“A reset,” I muttered on the highway south to Lihue. “Like mine.”
I liked to drive fast, and I drove faster, even though it was likely too late. She’d been admitted hours ago and was probably long gone by now.
I screeched my Jeep into the parking lot and was about to park when there she was. Faith stood propped up on crutches at the curb. And she was crying.
“The hell…?”
Tires squealing, I reversed course and pulled into the pick-up/drop-off drive behind a dinky white Kia.
“Hey,” I said, climbing out of the Jeep and striding over to her. “You okay?”
“No, I am not okay!” she cried, then blinked tearfully at me in confusion. Her voice softened for a second and she looked almost glad to see me. “What are you doing here?” Before I could answer, she stiffened her voice and hurriedly wiped her eyes. “Come to get a few more digs at the dumb tourist?”