composed herself when she noticed the doctor’s curious expression.
“Long story, doc,” she said, and clamped down on Sarah’s hand as he dug in with the needle.
*
The voice sounded as if it were coming from a long way off. At first, it was patient and cajoling, but became gradually more insistent, with just a hint of amused exasperation. It took another long minute for Alex to work out that the voice belonged to Sarah and that she was trying to persuade her to get out of the Jeep.
Alex opened her eyes and groaned as hot light seemed to pierce her retinas and lodge right at the point where her head was pounding. Drool had stuck her cheek to the warm leather seat, and moving any part of her body made her feel sick. The cardboard bowl on her lap, along with the small pile of them in the footwell and the disgusting taste in her mouth, suggested it had been a very long journey home for Sarah. Alex, however, could barely remember leaving the hospital.
Apparently deciding that she had given Alex enough time to regain her equilibrium, Sarah took hold of Alex’s good arm and slung it across her shoulders.
“You’ve got to help me out here, love. You go all Bambi-legged and we’ll both end up on the floor.”
“I’m good,” Alex muttered with as much indignation as she could muster. “Been walking since I was ten months old.”
To prove her point, she swung around out of the passenger seat and managed to stand by clinging on to Sarah and the doorjamb.
“Okay, go,” she said urgently. It felt like the world was tilting on its axis, and she was no longer quite so confident in her ability to remain upright. Her feet clomped clumsily as she took a step; someone had put her work boots back on and not tied them tightly enough. Meanwhile, there was a strange draft around her thighs.
“What the fuck?” She looked down at the pink, flowery hospital gown she was still wearing, and brought Sarah to a halt at the foot of the porch steps. “Is my ass hanging out?” she asked, afraid that she already knew the answer.
Sarah took her time, glancing behind Alex to check. “Yes, it is,” she finally confirmed. Her eyes glinted with amusement; she wasn’t taking Alex’s discomfiture at all seriously. “No one’s looking. Not even the chickens.”
“Did they steal my underwear?”
“Who? The chickens?”
“No, the doctors!”
“Oh. No. No, your underwear is present and correct.”
Slightly mollified, Alex allowed Sarah to lead her up the steps. By the time they reached the kitchen, she was so dizzy that she had to grab onto the table for support.
“I think I might throw up,” she whispered, shocked by how awful she felt.
“Almost there, hang on,” Sarah said and continued to guide her slowly toward the bedroom.
*
Sarah closed her book and rested both hands on its tattered cover. The instant she moved, pins and needles raced down her left leg and prickled heat into her big toe. She shuffled awkwardly on the chair, uncurling herself and stretching each limb in turn. Something in her spine popped and cracked in protest, but that was nothing new, and it hadn’t been loud enough to disturb Alex. She smiled at the soft snores; it wasn’t like Alex to sleep flat on her back, but she appeared to be comfortable enough. In the past seven hours, she had managed to sleep through Bandit chasing a frog around the kitchen, three phone calls, and a mass chicken brawl. After the noise of the second phone call provoked no meaningful response, Sarah had decided to switch a small reading lamp on, and Alex hadn’t seemed bothered by that either. Every two hours, Sarah carefully shook her awake. She dutifully stated her name and date of birth, told Sarah how tired she looked, and fell back to sleep. According to the doctor, she had a mild concussion; sleep, pain relief, and a responsible caregiver were the only management required.
Running a hand through her hair, Sarah tried hard to stifle a yawn. A quick check of
“Long story, doc,” she said, and clamped down on Sarah’s hand as he dug in with the needle.
*
The voice sounded as if it were coming from a long way off. At first, it was patient and cajoling, but became gradually more insistent, with just a hint of amused exasperation. It took another long minute for Alex to work out that the voice belonged to Sarah and that she was trying to persuade her to get out of the Jeep.
Alex opened her eyes and groaned as hot light seemed to pierce her retinas and lodge right at the point where her head was pounding. Drool had stuck her cheek to the warm leather seat, and moving any part of her body made her feel sick. The cardboard bowl on her lap, along with the small pile of them in the footwell and the disgusting taste in her mouth, suggested it had been a very long journey home for Sarah. Alex, however, could barely remember leaving the hospital.
Apparently deciding that she had given Alex enough time to regain her equilibrium, Sarah took hold of Alex’s good arm and slung it across her shoulders.
“You’ve got to help me out here, love. You go all Bambi-legged and we’ll both end up on the floor.”
“I’m good,” Alex muttered with as much indignation as she could muster. “Been walking since I was ten months old.”
To prove her point, she swung around out of the passenger seat and managed to stand by clinging on to Sarah and the doorjamb.
“Okay, go,” she said urgently. It felt like the world was tilting on its axis, and she was no longer quite so confident in her ability to remain upright. Her feet clomped clumsily as she took a step; someone had put her work boots back on and not tied them tightly enough. Meanwhile, there was a strange draft around her thighs.
“What the fuck?” She looked down at the pink, flowery hospital gown she was still wearing, and brought Sarah to a halt at the foot of the porch steps. “Is my ass hanging out?” she asked, afraid that she already knew the answer.
Sarah took her time, glancing behind Alex to check. “Yes, it is,” she finally confirmed. Her eyes glinted with amusement; she wasn’t taking Alex’s discomfiture at all seriously. “No one’s looking. Not even the chickens.”
“Did they steal my underwear?”
“Who? The chickens?”
“No, the doctors!”
“Oh. No. No, your underwear is present and correct.”
Slightly mollified, Alex allowed Sarah to lead her up the steps. By the time they reached the kitchen, she was so dizzy that she had to grab onto the table for support.
“I think I might throw up,” she whispered, shocked by how awful she felt.
“Almost there, hang on,” Sarah said and continued to guide her slowly toward the bedroom.
*
Sarah closed her book and rested both hands on its tattered cover. The instant she moved, pins and needles raced down her left leg and prickled heat into her big toe. She shuffled awkwardly on the chair, uncurling herself and stretching each limb in turn. Something in her spine popped and cracked in protest, but that was nothing new, and it hadn’t been loud enough to disturb Alex. She smiled at the soft snores; it wasn’t like Alex to sleep flat on her back, but she appeared to be comfortable enough. In the past seven hours, she had managed to sleep through Bandit chasing a frog around the kitchen, three phone calls, and a mass chicken brawl. After the noise of the second phone call provoked no meaningful response, Sarah had decided to switch a small reading lamp on, and Alex hadn’t seemed bothered by that either. Every two hours, Sarah carefully shook her awake. She dutifully stated her name and date of birth, told Sarah how tired she looked, and fell back to sleep. According to the doctor, she had a mild concussion; sleep, pain relief, and a responsible caregiver were the only management required.
Running a hand through her hair, Sarah tried hard to stifle a yawn. A quick check of
Similar Books
