Page 46 of 3rd Tango
“Thank you. May I resume my work?”
My phone falls silent. Gritting my teeth so I don’t ask her to hurry, I nod and listen hard to the activity on the other side of the curtain.
The usual noise of an ER meets my ears. Phones ringing, people shouting, gurney wheels squeaking. Dr. Gomez is paged. Someone in the hall at the waiting station cries softly. The curtain stops about two feet from the floor, and dozens of different shoes pass by.
My brain circles the accident—the exploding glass, the tire. My mother’s screams.
Those will haunt me for a long time.
As Yolanda teases out another piece, and I bite my cheek so as not to swear a blue streak, I think I hear Meg’s voice. A flood of relief washes through me and I focus on the floor under the curtain, watching for familiar shoes to come into view. “Meg?” I call, and Yolanda makes a disapproving noise in her throat.
Sure enough, a moment later, blue sneakers with brightly painted daisies appear. My sister shoves the curtain out of the way and shuts her eyes briefly, as if feeling the same relief as I do. “Oh, thank God.” She rears back and hollers down the hall. “Found her!”
Yolanda has no option but to stand back as Meg throws her arms around my neck. “JJ said you were all right, but I needed to see it for myself.”
Matt jogs in and Yolanda huffs. “Close that curtain, young man,” she orders. “You two really should wait in the hall until the doctor has seen my patient.”
Meg gives her abite melook, then scans my face. “You are okay, right?”
My phone starts again. I glance at Yolanda, who arches a brow as if to saytry me.
Matt reaches over and tugs on my sleeve. “You gave us a good scare. How’s the arm?”
Before I can answer, Yolanda points her tweezers at him. “We won’t know until the doctor looks at it, which she won’t do until I have the glass out of this cheek and she can stitch her up, so what do you think the wise move would be right now for you all?”
She smiles—all patience and half-full-glass of goodness—and they both blink. They also step away in unison after I give them a nod.
“Passive-aggressive much?” Megs mutters under her breath, shooting Yolanda an innocent smile.
“What about Mom?” I ask, attempting to defuse the situation. “Is she okay? Her head was bleeding.” I rub my own, Yolanda lightly slapping my hand. “Things are a little blurry still.”
“She’s fine,” Meg replies. “Shook up, and needs stitches as well for a cut on her head, but otherwise fine. Dad should be here soon.”
“Tell us what happened,” Matt says. “Did you get a look at the shooter?”
Yolanda scores a direct hit and I suck in a breath. “Two down,” she croons. “You’re doing great.”
The kindergarten teacher is back.
Meg shifts to stand next to me and squeezes my hand. I return it. “I didn’t. What do the cops think? Any witnesses?”
Matt shakes his head. “The one I spoke with at the scene suggested you cut someone off and they went road rage on you.”
I scrunch up my face then un-scrunch it when my sore nose balks. “I didn’t. Mom and I had merged onto East Madena, heading for Family Ties. There wasn’t even that much traffic. Maybe the shooter meant those bullets for someone else?”
He rubs his chin, contemplating this theory. “I can see the first being an error, but two? Is it possible one of your current cases has upset someone?”
“Owww!” I say as Yolanda tugs the last shard out. She places it in a container, drops her tweezers into a sterilizing jar, and dabs at my cheek with another antiseptic wipe. The sucker burns and I bite my lower lip, refusing to jerk away.
“There now.” She pats my leg. “All done. I’ll get Dr. Gomez.”
“You said if I cooperated, you’d get Dr. Marx.”
She swings the light away and flips the switch. Her gloves are removed with two loud snaps, and she drops them in the waste bin. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot. She’s off today.”
With a cheeky smile, she sweeps past Meg and Matt, whips the curtain aside and disappears.
“She’s a character,” Meg says, laughing quietly. “I think I like her. Is this Gomez guy bad news? Do you want us to take you across town to a different acute care?”
