Chapter 43
Boarding now. Told Drew to check on you, so don’t get annoyed. Try not to party too hard while I’m away. Be safe. Love you, booger.
Jackson’s text made me sigh while I was in the middle of class. I appreciated that he had contacted Drew, even though they weren’t in such a good place with their friendship. They had always been that way—if they had a row, they always put their differences aside if there was something more important to be dealt with. Hopefully, they would find a way to mend things before this dragged on and the problem became too big, the gap too wide to bridge.
It was past six when I emerged from school. Like any normal student, I immediately delved straight into my phone, scrolling through text messages from Mom, Courtney, and one from Spencer.
Ignoring the rest, I began to write my best friend back since she had updated me about her new life in San Diego. She and I had been stuck like glue for as long as I could remember and were experiencing college differently.
In the middle of typing my reply about her taking time off to visit me, some random guy ran past me, bulldozing his way as he fiercely pushed me to the side, making me lose my balance and land on the side of the pavement. I didn’t even get the chance to huff in air before I felt my ankle twist completely, making me stumble and unceremoniously collapse on my ass.
“Sweetie, are you okay?” A frail, old black woman came to my rescue, frowning down at me with a concerned look on her face.
“I—” I dragged my eyes away from her before gazing down at my unfortunate situation. The agonizing pain in my foot had skyrocketed to new heights. Add in the shock, and I was a breath away from a panic attack. “My foot … it’s … I don’t think I can move it,” I choked out.
The woman didn’t even bat an eyelash before taking charge and calling 911 while the rest of the traffic carried on without barely glancing at me. Everyone was in a rush because most believed that time was money and being a good Samaritan would seriously cost too much time, effort, and maybe a little heart, which was a foreign word here, it seemed. I wondered, if I had worn a skirt, would it have been different. I wouldn’t ponder anymore because this wouldn’t happen again, not if I could help it. If this did ever happen again and some random guy shoved me to the side because he had to get somewhere in a heartbeat, I would chase him until he apologize like a true gentleman. A stretch to some, but hell, where were the fucking manners?
“They’re on their way,” the kind woman informed me with soulful eyes. “Can I assist you to sit on the pavement until they get here? My back isn’t in the best of conditions, but my determination will get us there.”
“Oh, no. No, you’ve done enough for me by calling for help. Thank you, but hurting you while you help me wouldn’t either of us any good.” I gave the best smile I could muster. I was holding on by a very loose thread. “But could you do me one favor? Do you mind picking up my phone? It’s a few steps behind you.” My eyes landed on the cracked screen, and I felt my heart falter.
She immediately went to pick it up and then handed it to me. She introduced herself as Evelyn. She had been on her way to Bingo night when she had seen me being pushed like garbage to the side. She stayed with me until the paramedics arrived, inspected me, and placed me on the stretcher. But before they carted me away, I made sure to get her number and address because I had to thank her somehow. Had it not been for her, God knew I would have crawled, pushing on my elbows to simply fetch my phone to call for help.
The paramedics busied themselves with asking me questions ranging from the incident to the level of pain I was in, and I couldn’t help feeling relief when they injected me with some powerful drug to numb the pain.
Upon reaching the hospital, I was unloaded in the Emergency Room before a proper doctor came to see me and addressed my wound without a hitch. After getting X-rays and a thorough examination, he had to place my entire foot in a boot since there was an injury in one of the ligaments that supported the joint, a stage two sprain. It could take four to six weeks to heal, depending on how my body responded to medicine and therapy.
“Is there someone we can call to pick you up, Miss Armstrong?” the nurse asked me after the doctor had signed the discharge papers before being paged to the trauma unit.
Jackson wasn’t here, so I had to rely on someone else. “Yeah, there actually is.” Clearing my throat, I scrolled through my contact list with the newly cracked screen then showed the nurse his phone number.
She left me to make the call while I filled out the paperwork and what not. The chaotic madness in the ER made me even more anxious. The sound of the sick and the dying wasn’t any comfort. It was a major contrast to the world outside these walls.
While the other side fought the stock market and brokers, in here, mortals fought to survive. And when I overheard that an ambulance was coming in with survivors from a tragic head-on collision, it made me realize how small and irrelevant my problems were. My toe and ankle seemed pathetically laughable at the thought of what others were dealing with here tonight.
“Chloe?” Drew’s alarmed voice appeared out of the blue as he finally found which section of the room where I was located. The moment his eyes rested upon me, they imminently widened. “Christ, Chloe, what happened? Are you okay?”
“Sorry, the nurse made me bug you. I wouldn’t have bothered, but they wouldn’t discharge me if I didn’t have someone to care for me in the next twenty-four hours. You, my friend, are the chosen one.”
He shook his head, solemn. “You should know better than to hesitate to call me. I’m always here for you. Always. Why can’t you understand that?”
Because so much has happened between us that it’s gotten so awkward, and nothing’s been the same since.
As much as I wanted to state how I felt, this wasn’t the time or the place.
“Drew Cavendish?” The nurse came back before systematically eyeing him, as if he were a good specimen to be studied. There was a blatant glimmer of interest before she reverted back to business, clearing her throat as she did. “She was given Percocet, but the doctor prescribed a lesser dose for her to take home. Make sure she takes these with a meal and a full glass of water.” She pulled out a paper that outlined how to care for my foot and how to gauge my pain and knowing when to call for help.
By the time he helped me into a cab with the use of a crutch, my body was in such an elevated state euphoria and sleepiness that I was going in and out of consciousness.
“Let me carry you upstairs,” Drew kindly offered after the cab dropped us outside the apartment building.
“Over my dead fucking body. I am capable of walking.” Albeit, I would be slower than usual, but I could very well function. The less contact with him, the better. I might have bruised my ankle, but I surely hadn’t lost my mind… yet. While that was still thriving and intact, I would rather not depend on him for anything. It was the only way I could keep him at bay.
Our journey from the entrance of the building to the 8th floor was done at a snail’s pace, but I was adamant to stand my ground, undoubtedly quite high from the drugs given to me.
“Did you have anything to eat?” he asked the moment we entered the door, regarding me rather too closely for comfort.
Acting unaffected by his presence, I merely shook my head before releasing a casual sigh. “I had a sandwich for lunch.”