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Lincoln stood at the work table. Two days, and the pain hadn't lessened. He puffed out a long string of air and clenched his jaw. Ten minutes he'd been here. Ten measly minutes, without even putting weight on his ankle, yet the ache grew and throbbed. Blood seemed to rush to the area, pool there. The intensity of it made his stomach turn. He straightened and his back screamed in protest, the pain rivalling the throb of his ankle. The woman hadn't lied. The sprain was bad. Worse than he'd realized. Two weeks without walking? Without building? Without heading to the lot? He'd go crazy.
Lincoln picked up the Popsicle stick model he'd been working on and threw it across the room.
Damn.
Now that would have to be cleaned too. He looked to the calzone remnants under the window. Romper had clearly decided Lincoln's command had an expiry date. Most of the bits on the floor were gone, but smears of sauce mixed with saliva in the grooves between the wood flooring and along the wall were still there. He needed to tackle it. Getting on and off the couch was hard enough. Getting on his hands and knees to scrub? Not yet.
And his back. Lincoln braced his hands on the table, careful not to put pressure where the skin had been scraped off. How he managed that he didn't even know. In the moment before he'd cradled the boy? That must have been it. The left hand was worse. He must have braced himself then curled.
Romper looked up with sad eyes. Bored eyes. Lincoln had managed to get down and back up the three flights of stairs twice each day. He directed Romper to do his business on the patch of lawn in front of the building, and Lincoln went no farther. Romper acquiesced, surprisingly. As a reward, Lincoln let the dog run up and down the street for several minutes while Lincoln perched on the steps, always calling the dog back when he strayed too far. Guilt plagued Lincoln as Romper cocked his head. The dog knew something was wrong. He must. Otherwise he'd be letting his frustration known in a much more aggressive manner. But still, he wasn't pleased. Each time Lincoln called him back he returned with reproach in his eyes.
Lincoln looked again at Romper. Was it normal to notice an animal's emotions like this? Or just lack of having a person's to notice?
He could let the dog keep running past the corner, let him stretch his legs. What was that saying? About letting someone go to see if they would come back? Well, Lincoln wasn't giving Romper the chance. If he didn’t come back ... it wasn’t something worth thinking about it.
The couch looked miles away. Not that the couch was great either. It meant lying on the deepest bruise he'd ever had. Two days.
Why hadn't Kali thought to bring him some painkillers? His First Aid Kit was lacking in that department. Had she checked his cupboard? Seen the small amount of food he had? Shouldn't she be worried?
Lincoln settled atop his crutches. He needed groceries. He needed meds. He needed to know this was just a sprain, that his back was no more than bruised.
Three options. Option one: Head across the harbour and make an appointment with his family doctor—who he hadn't seen in at least five years. But he didn't have a phone. And in that waiting room, he could see someone he knew. Someone who, if he sat across from them long enough, might see beneath the unkempt hair and tattered clothes.
Option two: Head to a walk-in clinic nearby. He couldn't think where any were, didn't know the hours, and couldn't look it up. He didn't have a computer. So that would require going to the library. But it was Monday. The library was closed. He could walk around aimlessly until he found a clinic. More time on these crutches. More time with his foot dangling, his blood pooling.
Option three: The ER. He knew where it was. He could take a bus there. It was always open. That was the reason to go. The option that worked.
In his mind's eye, he saw her again, the way she pushed open the door, brought the crutches in, said nothing, started to leave. His question stopped her but she dismissed it a second time, as if even the prospect angered her. Was it that outrageous? To come for dinner. To spend some time with an injured man. Was he that repulsive?
Lincoln stepped to the door and shook his head at Romper. No dogs at the hospital. No dogs on the bus ... most likely. He actually didn't know the rule about that one. But no dogs in the hospital for sure.
Lincoln brought a book to the ER but didn't read it. Nausea coursed through him after the bus ride, as if he'd been on a rolling sea. In the ER waiting area, with sick and moaning people around him, it didn't fade. The nurse who did his intake assessment didn't seem impressed with his presence. Is this how the woman, Kali, that was her name, would have treated him, looked at him, scrunched up her nose at him?
“This happened three days ago?”
He nodded, noting the people travelling up and down the hall behind him.
“And you're just coming in now?”
He faced the woman, who seemed a few years younger than him. “My back seems to be getting worse, not better. And the sprain, if it is a sprain, seems exceptionally bad.”
She raised one eyebrow.
“I've sprained my ankle before. It wasn't like this.”
“It does look pretty nasty. You probably twisted it before. A sprain takes a while to—”
“Is Kali in? Kali said it was a grade two sprain.”
“You've been in already?”
“No.” Lincoln, whose gaze had wandered again, brought his focus back to the nurse in front of him. “She was there.”
The woman appraised him, looking top to bottom. Looking, it seemed, for the first time. “You're a friend of Kali's?”
“No.”
Another brow raise. “She was there. When the car hit me.”
“You were hit by a car?”
“I jumped in front of it to—”
“Sir?” She straightened. Reached a hand out—seeming confused and concerned. “Do you need to talk to someone? I must—”
“No. No.” Lincoln waved his hands. “It wasn't like that. Kali's boy fell in front of the car. You see my dog saw this cat and—”
The woman set down her clipboard. “You jumped in front of a car to save Theo?”
Lincoln smiled. “You know Theo?”
“Yes, I ...” She waved a hand and glanced at the hall behind. “You saved Theo? Oh my God.”
She glanced at the hall behind her again, looking angry. “Is he all right? Theo?”
“Not a scrape.”
“Good. Well ...” she turned back to Lincoln. “As much as I'd like to progress things, you're going to have a wait. There are people here who—”
“That's fine. I expected that.”
She tapped the clipboard on her lap. “Should I tell Kali you're here?”
“I ...” Lincoln hesitated. “I just came to get my back checked out. Make sure no real damage was done. I didn't mention it to Kali at the time. Didn't notice.”
“The adrenaline.”
“So she said.”
The woman smiled now. Softened. “Are you sure? She's on for another hour.”
Lincoln shook his head. “I don't know her. If she wanted to check up on me she knows where to find me.”
The woman stood. “We'll get you in to see a doctor as soon as we can.”
“Any pain killers?”
The woman clenched her clipboard. Her lips tightened.
“Even Ibuprofen? I didn't have any at home and—”
“Three days?” The woman tutted.
“I live alone. Three flights up.”
The same look of surprise crossed her face that had crossed Kali's. Did he look that bad? Lots of men had beards, unkempt beards even ... but maybe not the clothes. Maybe not the stink. That twenty-four-hour protection was forty-eight hours expired.
The nurse took a breath. “I'll see what I can do.”
Lincoln picked up his crutches and returned to the waiting room. He eased into his seat. He shouldn't have mentioned the accident, mentioned Kali. He didn't come here for her. He came for the doctor. For drugs. For peace of mind. That was all.
People filtered in and out of the waiting room, some obviously in a worse state than Lincoln, others not.
Every time someone came from the hall beyond, Lincoln raised his gaze, hoping. He wouldn't say he was attracted to Kali. Was he? More intrigued. Captivated. As if she weren't a person, a woman to pursue—not that he wanted to pursue her, he was done with all that. Rather, he felt drawn, like a moth to a flame—as ridiculous as that sounded—like her existence in the world meant maybe this globe we spun on wasn't all that bad. With her in it, maybe it couldn't be.
But even that. She'd come into his apartment. Helped him. Begrudgingly. He'd saved her son—inadvertently caused the reason to be saved, true. But still, he'd saved Theo. Risked his life. Injured himself. Was sitting here in this waiting room days later because he'd saved her son and yet she'd treated him like an inconvenience—couldn't wait to get out of his presence. Simply because he looked like he did? Because his apartment wasn't dripping with Ikea? Because he was broken?
Lincoln shifted in his seat. A baby wailed across from him. A man with his arm wrapped in bloody bandages sat a few seats over. A young girl curled into her father's chest, whimpering softly.
Lincoln had a long wait ahead of him.
Only he didn't. Forty-five minutes later the same nurse who'd taken his information called his name, ushered him down a hall, and directed him to sit in another small waiting area.
“Only a few minutes now.” She smiled.
Lincoln nodded. From where he sat he could see another open area. A staff room of some kind. And there was Kali. She picked up a satchel and slung it over her shoulder. She wasn't in scrubs, but in old jeans stuffed into those combat boots of hers, a red top and a type of headphones he hadn't seen in years. No sleek ear buds for her. These things were massive. These things would drown out the world.
When she turned his way he raised his hand, stupidly. She saw him, he was sure she saw him, but she looked away. That same haughty look she'd worn when she first gave in to taking him to his apartment, and later when she'd returned with the crutches.
Lincoln swallowed, anger brimming. Not at her, of course. At himself. He shouldn't have told the nurse about them. She, like all the others, was not worth his time. Not even worth his thoughts.
Lincoln put his head back. See the doctor. Find out what was wrong. Get some pills. Do whatever physio or rehab he'd have to do to get better. Get back to the plan. That's what he needed. What he wanted. Before this accident, before these hours with nothing to focus on but the pain, he hadn't thought about Kali. Noticed her, sure, but then she'd leave his thoughts, leave his mind, until the next encounter.
Once he was working again, that's all she'd be. Something beautiful to notice, like a sunset. Or a raging storm.
The boy filtered into his mind's eye. She'd been so close-mouthed about him. Angry. Defensive. He was sweet. Quiet and shy, sure, but intelligence swam behind his eyes. A knowing. Could there be something wrong with him? Lincoln's throat tightened. Had something happened to him? Some man ...?
Lincoln suspected Kali was single. Was it for a specific reason? He'd never seen her with a man ... except the once. No way was she with that man, though, old enough to be her father. Worse off than Lincoln. But then he'd never noticed the boy before either. Perhaps, like he accused so many others of, he just didn't see.
His fist clenched at the thought of someone hurting that boy. Hurting her in the process.
“Lincoln Fraser?”