Page 31 of Breaking the Ice

Zach walks across the room and lays Mom down on her bed. Then he looks into her eyes. “You’ve got some dilation there,” he says. “I’m guessing you have a concussion.”

“Are you a doctor?” Mom asks him.

“Ex-hockey player from a family of hockey players,” he tells her before teasing, “We had more concussions than birthdays.” Zach looks at me. “I think we can bypass the ambulance and take her to the hospital ourselves.”

“You don’t have to come,” I assure him.

“I don’t, but I’m going to. Do you have a robe you can help your mom into?”

I rush across the room and grab her pink fuzzy bath robe off the back of her closet door. I wrap it around her shoulders before saying, “Really, Zach, just help me get her into my car.”

He shakes his head while leaning down to pick my mom up again. “I’m going with you, and I’m driving. That’s all there is to it.” I’m both relieved not to be alone and irritated by his high-handedness.

Settling into Zach’s arms, my mom asks, “Are you single, Zach?”

“I am.”

To my eternal horror, she replies, “Good. Ellie’s single, too.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Zach

Once I get Elaine settled into the back of the Trailblazer, I tell Ellie, “Keep a close eye on her so she doesn’t fall over.”

“Or vomit all over the back of your truck,” she says, suggesting another viable possibility.

“The car is rented, so hurling isn’t my concern,” I tell her. “I just don’t want your mom to hit her head against the window or anything.”

Except for Ellie giving me directions to the hospital, we make the short drive in silence. Pulling into the Emergency entrance, I put the car into park before getting out.

“Do you want a wheelchair, Mom?” Ellie asks her.

I interrupt before Elaine can answer. “I’ll carry her.”

“You can’t leave your SUV blocking the entrance.”

“I’ll take your mom. You move the car.” I have Elaine in my arms before she can argue.

Luckily, there isn’t much of a line, so I go right to the window and announce, “We need a doctor.”

“What happened?” the woman behind the thick glass wants to know.

“She fainted and hit her head. Her daughter says she was unconscious for over an hour.” Those are the magic words to get everyone moving in overdrive.

A nurse comes out with a wheelchair and takes Elaine into a triage room while the lady at the desk tells me, “I need to get some information along with an insurance card.”

“Her daughter is parking the car, but I’m sure she has everything you need.” I remember Ellie saying she didn’t have the money to pay for an ambulance, so I add, “If there’s no insurance, I’ll take care of the bill before we go.”

I don’t hear Ellie come in, so I jump a little when I hear her say, “My mom has disability insurance.” She doesn’t make eye contact with me, so I know she’s embarrassed by my offer.

I often felt the same way when I was a kid. Too many times I had to decline a party invitation because there was no money for a gift. I didn’t go to formal dances in high school because none of us boys had proper suits. Most of the money we made doing odd jobs went to things like school lunches and sports. We even occasionally helped pay an electric bill.

As such, I know Ellie’s embarrassment all too well. I would do anything to let her know she never has to feel that way around me.

I wait while Ellie gives the receptionist all the information needed and then I follow her into the triage room. The nurse announces, “Elaine’s blood pressure is low, and she’s still a little dizzy. We’re going to take her straight for a CT scan from here.” Looking up from her patient, she tells Ellie and me, “You can sit in the waiting room. Someone will be right out to take you back to her assigned bed.”

Ellie leans down and gives her mom a kiss on the cheek before saying, “You’ve got this, Mom.”

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