Page 23 of Insta-Love

ELEVEN

Ava

Half an hour passes before we see any signs of life from the staff. Voices came and went beyond the waiting room door, the squeak of running shoes on the linoleum or the clang of metallic trays the only other sounds of activity. I poked my head out the door twice, but each time Bowen quietly urged me to sit down and wait.

His words have been few and far between, but his body language has spoken volumes. A calm ease radiates off him, yet the hard lines of his brow, the way he continually closes his eyes and seems to take himself elsewhere for a while … he hates being here as much as I do.

“So, um, how did you break your bone as a kid?” I ask, seated on the opposite side of the room from him.

He looks across to where I’m perched with my feet tucked up on the seat, shoes on the floor.

“Did something I shouldn’t have.”

Vague. “Bit of a risk-taker were you?” I ask with a smile.

His hard expression doesn’t change.

He also doesn’t say a damn thing.

Awkward.

The door opens to reveal the doctor that took Lily through for her x-rays. I launch from the seat, thanking the heavens for his impeccable timing.

I’m not sure how much more of this moody silence I can endure.

“You can come through now. She’s having her cast put on as we speak.”

“It was definitely broken then?” I ask, following the doc out the door.

Bowen shadows us as we make our way a few doors down the hall.

“A fracture, yes.” The doc pushes the swing door open and gestures to where Lily lays on a bed, a nurse wrapping plaster around her ankle. “I’ll show you the x-rays over here.”

Bowen hovers near Lily’s bed while the doc discusses the break with me. Apparently she’ll be laid up for a while, off school for at least two weeks until they can test her ability to get around okay.

She’s going to be livid when she realises this means she can’t skate for a few months.

“Although it isn’t a serious break, by normal standards, we’d still like to keep her in overnight,” the doc advises. “Mostly to monitor her pain management before she heads home.”

“Whatever you think is best.” I mean, really, what can I do? I’m not going to argue a professional opinion simply because my motherly side wants Lily somewhere close where I can fuss over her.

Guilty, much?

“Once they’re all done here she’ll be transferred to a ward, and if you like you can duck home to get a change of clothes for her; something comfortable to set her at ease.” He sets a hand on my arm reassuringly. “She’s done well. Tough little thing.”

“I know.” The toughest.

More so than her mum.

The doctor leaves with reassurances we can ask questions of him later when he does his rounds, handing me over to the middle-aged nurse who finishes up the final layers of Lily’s cast.

I’m intrigued to find Bowen in the seat next to the bed, watching Lily while she plays a game on his phone. The distraction seems to be a good thing, my baby-girl not even flinching when the nurse lifts Lily’s leg to smooth the underside of the plaster.

“You’ve got your first stay overnight in hospital, baby,” I say as chipper as I can manage, touching Lily’s shoulder.

She passes Bowen’s phone back with a smile, and then turns her father’s eyes on me. “Will you be here?”

“As long as I can,” I reassure her. “I’ll have to head home and get you some pyjamas and that.”

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