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—Banks—
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I paced outside the room doors for fifteen minutes before the woman at the desk finally announced visiting hours had begun.
No amount of reasoning, explaining, sweet-talking, bribing, or straight-up begging had cracked her staunch stand.
While I’d managed to get some sleep last night, I woke unusually early, even for myself. Pepin was walked and fed by six, then I sat around at home twiddling my thumbs until after seven. The half an hour drive to the hospital a few towns over ate into some of the wait time, but not all.
I pumped another wad of sanitizer onto my hands, then breezed past the clerk, throwing a, “Thank you,” over my shoulder.
As I rushed to the private room I’d requested last night, Mom came into sight. Catching my arrival in her peripheral vision, she rose to her feet and met me at the doorway.
“Banks!” she whispered.
“How’s she doin’, Mom?” I murmured while hugging her.
“Good. Really good,” Mom whispered back.
“She’s asleep?”
Mom nodded. “For the moment.”
“How’s it looking?” I pressed, needing all the information all at once.
She chuckled. “If you let me get a breath in, I’ll tell you.”
I wrung my cap between both hands to stop me from slamming it onto my head. “Sorry.”
Mom vigorously rubbed my upper arms. “It’s okay, hon. I know you’re anxious to hear. And I’m pleased to say it’s good news; she was given the all-clear against neck injuries and the brace was removed in the early hours. Her ankle isn’t broken; however, it’s severely strained from the way it twisted. She’s in a boot to minimize movement for the next week.”
“And her head?” I cut in, earning a sharp look from Mom. “Sorry,” I muttered again.
“The gash on Simone’s head didn’t need stitches. There was a lot of blood, but the wound was small in comparison.”
I hummed. “Head wounds do bleed a lot.”
Mom nodded. “They do. She suffered a mild concussion, which I monitored closely overnight. She might have some short-term memory loss that should fade over the next week or so.”
I took in all the information; it confirmed my suspicions about her injuries. While I’d studied emergency medicine as part of my search and rescue career, the majority of my extended knowledge came directly from Mom.
“She had mild dehydration and a few other bruises here and there, but overall she’s doing great,” Mom added.
“And her lungs,” I urged. “Her heart? No pneumonia?” Call me paranoid, but I’d experienced firsthand how fast it could take hold.
She smiled a little and touched my arm again. “Lungs and heart are both clear, Banksy. I’ve been keeping a close eye on those too.”
I let out the breath I held. “Thank God. How did she handle being in here?”
Mom’s lips twisted to the side. “She didn’t love it, more like endured it because she had to and fought to keep the memories at bay. She sleeps soundly enough, but it’s when she wakes and remembers where she is. Poor thing must have had a helluva time.”
“From what she’s told me, it was shit.”
“Losing someone always is,” Mom murmured with sadness.
I kissed her cheek. “Thank you for coming in for me, Mom. I couldn’t bear her to be here alone, but I know it’s been a rough week for you too.”
She squeezed my forearm affectionately. “Of course. I’m glad you called; I’d be upset if you didn’t.”
I scoffed. “And I’d never hear the end of it.”
“You’re right, you wouldn’t have.” Mom snickered and moved to the side, giving me the go-ahead to see my girl.
I loved my momma to the moon and back, but she instantly became background movement the second I set eyes on Simone. I froze for a beat when her eyes opened, then hurried to her bedside.
“Hey baby. How you doin’?”
“Good. Can I go home now?”
I smiled. “How many times have you already asked Mom that question?”
Simone’s lip twitched. “One.”
Mom’s, “Mmhmm,” came from my left, and I looked up to see her brows arched high at Simone. “Try eight.” Mom cut her attention to me. “She’s persistent, I’ll give her that.”
I chuckled and leaned down to kiss Simone’s lips. “So am I.”
She kissed me back, then raised her voice. “But no one is giving me an answer! When can I go home?”
“When the doctor says. Has he been around yet?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Mom advised.
I pulled up a chair and took Simone’s hand. After a moment, I inspected it more closely for dirt and grime.
“I cleaned her up,” Mom explained, sitting on the opposite bedside. “Took off all the mud, didn’t I, hon?”
Simone smiled at Mom as if they’d known each other for years. It had my pulse doubling and skipping.
“She even washed my hair a little,” Simone murmured, then ran her tongue across her teeth. “Can’t wait to brush my teeth, though. That’s the worst part, aside from not being allowed to leave.”
Without asking, Mom took Simone’s hand and pressed on her wrist, just like she did when we were little. I still didn’t know if it actually worked or if it was a placebo effect, but I swear it helped calm our shit down as kids.
Mom saw me watching and smirked. “Works every time.”
I pursed my lips, feeling voodooed, but also decided that this was a good time to float a new idea past Simone.
My thumb flicked across her knuckles as I asked, “Babe, stay with me at my house while you recover. Let me and Pepin look after you. Bonus points if Mom bakes pies.”
Mom snorted. “You don’t need to convince Simone to stay just to underhandedly ask for pies, Banks.”
“Shh, Mom. Can’t you see it’s working?” I glanced back to Simone and broke into laughter far too raucous for our surroundings. “Don’t glare at me, new girl. I have your best interests at heart!”
Simone’s pout pressed harder, and her eyes narrowed into slits.
“Don’t tease the girl, Banks. She’s been through enough without your shit so early in the morning,” Mom admonished.
This created a hint of a smile at the corner of Simone’s mouth. “Is he always like this?” she asked Mom, who huffed dramatically.
“Since the day he was born, I’m afraid. You’re more than welcome to come and stay with me and Russell. I’d love having another woman in the house.”
“Must have been hard with six boys,” Simone commiserated, tactfully sidling past Mom’s invitation.
Mom’s expression remained neutral as she continued to press little circles on Simone’s wrist. “I had a girl once. She was my second baby, but for no rhyme or reason, we lost her at thirty-seven weeks gestation.”
Shadows passed within me. While this happened before I was born, over the years, I often wondered what it would be like to have a big sister.
“That’s so sad. I’m sorry to hear that,” Simone whispered.
Mom smiled softly. “Thank you, hon. It was very sad and still is. Her name was Fleur, and she’s resting in our family cemetery with her great-grandparents.” Mom blinked rapidly. “She’s in good hands.”
I cleared the lump from my throat and pulled Simone’s attention back to me. “Come stay. It’s not really a request, more like a demand but with a please.”
“I don’t want to put you out...”
“You won’t,” I urged, sensing I was close to a breakthrough.
Mom butted in, “—It won’t put either of us out. We’d love to take care of you.”
“Seriously, Mom? I’m an EMT. I know what the fuck I’m doing.”
She ignored my curse, gave me a sassy look, then turned back to Simone. “Don’t let my son bully you into anything, you hear me? Just because he doesn’t like no for an answer, doesn’t mean you shou—”
Annoyance cut through me. “Mom, I’m not bullying her, I’m caring for her.”
“Can I go home now?” Simone blurted over our bickering.
The doctor appeared at the foot of her bed and chuckled. “That eager to get away from us, huh, Miss Jamison?”
“Yes,” she deadpanned. “Seriously. When can I leave?”
The doctor tapped his fingers on the bedframe as he thought briefly. “That will depend on your next set of observations. We’d also like to ensure you’ve got access to help should you need it.”
I straightened and grinned. “We’ve already got that sorted; Simone’s coming home with me.”
