Page 10 of Tripp

“I don’t know. Temporary insanity?”

I chuckled, stood, and held my hand out to shake the doctor’s hand.

“Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you.” Casey sat up, wiggling to get to the edge of the table.

“It’s what I’m here for. You’ll need to rest that leg and let those cuts and scrapes heal as well. You can shower, but I’d like you to keep the bandages on while you do. Then change them as quickly as possible. We don’t want the stitches submerged. So a quick, efficient shower.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ve had to deal with stitches before. I can’t believe this has happened.”

“It’s okay. Accidents happen.” She smiled.

“Shelby…” There was a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

An elderly man came in, a pair of crutches in his hand. “Ms. Hughes, I have a pair of crutches for you. No weight on that ankle for a few days, then ease back into putting pressure on it. Okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Here’s a script for pain meds, antibiotics, and an ankle brace. I’m sorry that we’re out of them. The pharmacy in Lufkin has them. I called to make sure.”

“Thank you. I’ll go get it for her.”

“I can go?—”

“You can’t drive. I’ll take you.” That was as far as I was willing to compromise.

She scowled, but I ignored it. When Dr. McKenna was done, I helped her out to my Jeep. She was wobbly but determined to do it on her own. I let her. If I couldn’t trust her to know her limits, then I wouldn’t get her to trust me when I said I was trying to be different. Not to be so in charge all the time.

“Are you hungry?” I asked climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Foooood…” she drew the word out then turned to me. “I could eat.”

I chuckled. My phone was in the console, the map pulled up with directions to the pharmacy.

“I’d rather get the meds and brace, then get food on the way home. I miss my little munchkin. I wanna get home quickly.”

“Alright, we can do that.”

It took us about an hour to get to Lufkin, get the scripts, and head back to Burke. She had me stop at a place called Border’s Barbecue Pit. My mouth started watering the second I got out of the Jeep. The smell of cooking meats; how had I not been here before? My kid was holding out on me.

There were so many options, I couldn’t choose. After talking with one of the helpful staff, I ended up getting three sampler platters. Each one came with thick slices of brisket, chopped pork, brisket burnt ends, two sausages, a barbecued chicken leg quarter, and three sides. I got one with their three-cheese mac-n-cheese, pinto beans, and fried potatoes. One with slaw, baked beans, and potato salad. And the other with green beans, macaroni salad, and fries.

There were three adults eating but also her daughter. What kid doesn’t like mac-n-cheese and fries? I may have gotten a handful of desserts too. There’s no way in hell I was passing up pound cake of any kind, and I got the little one a big frosted sugar cookie.

The amount of money I’d just spent on food would curl some people’s toes. I’m from Vegas though. Spending a hundred and some odd bucks on good food is normal. One reason I try to find little mom-and-pop places to eat. Least I know they’ll be giving me a top notch product for my money.

Casey gave me directions to her place. Going through Burke and then into Diboll was a straight shot. I made two turns and then we stopped in front of a small ranch-style house. The yard was well kept. There were flowerbeds full of blooming plants. A playset in the backyard, which I could see from here. It was cozy looking. Much better than the tiny house I rented on the outskirts of town.

Desert living wasn’t for everyone though.

I parked, got out, and helped her out. With my hands full with the bags, I followed her to the stairs. The door opened, and Scooter came out, moving to his sister. He gave her a big hug, his body vibrating with worry. I’d called him, let her talk to him, but I got it. Hearing someone say they’re okay was nothing compared to seeing it for yourself. He helped her inside and got her settled on the couch.

The living room was small but not cluttered as I’d thought it would be with a little one around. I remembered the days of tripping over trucks and stepping on LEGOS. That was parental torture for sure.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Scooter asked, his voice low.

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