Page 23 of Lyric

I limped forward. When the man saw me limping he immediately grabbed a wheelchair that was sitting by the door and hustled me into it. Then he pushed me quickly down a security hall before turning into a large waiting area. He said toLyric, “You can wait out here. I'll have a nurse bring you some scrubs.”

Lyric asserted himself between me and the orderly. “I am not leaving him alone until I am sure he is out of danger.”

“I don't want to go alone.” I pleaded. “Please don't leave me. Not yet.” I wasn't ready to be alone among strangers even if they were doctors, nurses, and orderlies trying to help me.

Lyric’s hand came from behind the wheelchair and rested on my shoulder, warm and solid. “I'm not going anywhere.”

My heart rate increased but not from fear. It was his touch that affected me more than anything else I'd been through, a touch that both excited and comforted me. I was so glad he said he wanted to stay with me. Now, I didn't have to beg.

I was wheeled into a small private room with a narrow cot covered with a white sheet and white paper on top.

Suddenly, the room was crowded with people. I grabbed Lyric’s hand to keep him close. His fingers curled tight around mine, but not tight enough to hurt.

Someone ordered me to get on the bed. It was Lyric who helped me up and got me situated with my head on a pillow. A nurse came alongside with some sort of machine on wheels and said, “I'm just going to stick these electrodes on you. Then we can see how your heart is doing.” Without a beat he peppered me with questions.

“Did you get all these cuts and bruises by accident?”

“I jumped out of a moving car. Then ran for a long time through thick woods.”

“I'm so sorry to hear that. Where would you say you feel the most pain?”

“The cuts sting but my ankle is throbbing.”

“Anywhere else where you think you might have broken a bone or sprained a muscle?”

“No.”

“I'm sorry I have to ask this but it's part of my duty knowing what little I do of what brought you in here. Were you sexually assaulted?”

“No.”

As he talked, the nurse stared at the screen. “Okay,” he said. “I'm getting what I need here but I'm just going to keep you hooked up for a little while to make sure we're getting accurate readings.”

“That's fine.” My heart had to be racing. There was so much going on. I'd never been sick a day of my life. This is all so strange and new.

Another nurse took his place and gave me a cursory examination by looking into my eyes, ears and mouth. Then he asked about my bruises and if he could take some of the bandages off the bigger cuts. When he finally got to my ankle, he manipulated it as I winced and gave a little cry.

“Sorry,” he said. “I don't think it's broken but we'll make sure. I'm going to call in a portable unit to take a picture.”

It was nice that they explained everything they were doing but at the same time I didn't care. I figured they knew whatever they needed to do and all I could participate in was giving my consent.

The whole time, Lyric held my hand as if he was my best, most trusted friend of many years. I realized I was clinging to him as if I was being held aloft.

Finally, someone came in with a pile of folded scrubs and handed them to him.

“I'm just going to put these on, okay?”

I looked up at him wondering why he was asking my permission before I realized he needed both hands to do the job. I let go of his fingers. He must have seen something in my eyes because he laid his palm across my forehead and said softly, “I'll just be right over here in the corner.”

I nodded.

He leaned down closer to my face. “You'll be just fine, I promise. I'll make sure you get the best help possible.”

I inhaled his clear rainy scent, letting it fill me up, letting it strengthen me.

“Thank you. I don't know what I would have done without you. I would have died.” My voice cracked on that last word.

“Shhh. Just relax for now.” When he smiled it lit up his topaz eyes.

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