Sisters in the Wind(20)
“Then why do I have cuts on my leg held together with staples?”
Dr. Rao replaces the X-ray image with another. Now my thigh bone is back together with a solid white rod running the length of the bone’s inner core. Several white screws hold the rod in place. Everything white is metal.
I look at my bare leg and refer back to the image on-screen. A metal rod and hardware screws are inside my thigh right now. I repeat the visual comparison, silently in awe and kind of horrified.
“May I check your pupils, Lucy?” Dr. Rao asks.
I nod, and instantly regret not using my words. The rapid movement reverberates like a pinball machine inside my head.
The doctor shines a penlight at one eye and then the other. She has me follow her finger to check my peripheral vision.
“Will you be ordering another CT scan?” Daunis says from the foot of the bed. She might not be a doctor, but her voice carries the authority of one.
My brain was scanned when I was first brought in, I learn. Another scan was done six hours later. Although neither showed any intracranial bleeding, my doctor agrees with Daunis that a third scan is warranted.
Dr. Rao speaks directly to me. “If the results of your post-twenty-four-hour CT look good, we can discuss discharging you in two more days.”
“I can’t afford it,” I blurt. “Any of this. I don’t have insurance. And my money was in my backpack.” Assuming my backpack was blown up, I am completely broke.
“Don’t worry about that, Lucy,” Daunis says, warm but firm.
Who is this best friend of my dead half sister? What’s her story? Why show up now?
“Lucy, when you are discharged, you will need to stay with someone who can help with your care.” Dr. Rao looks at my benefactor.
“Of course.” Again, Daunis has it under control.
I look at Jamie, hoping he might offer another option. But the way he gazes at Daunis tells me he’d never disagree with the love of his life.
As the nurse preps me for the CT place, the lovebirds talk near the window.
“I can arrange for a hotel room, or a suite for you,” Jamie offers. His voice is trying to sound casual, but I don’t buy it.
“Miigwech. But I can take care of it.” She sounds prim and proper.
Misho Abe said that word. Miigwech. Gratitude. Giving thanks.
I haven’t thought about him in a while. I should have gotten a ride to Charlevoix the night I exploded the storage unit. I wipe away a tear.
“It’s no problem,” Jamie says eagerly. “I’m at a place that has suites for long-term stays. It’s fully furnished and has a decent kitchen. Laundry, too.”
Someone in scrubs arrives to wheel me away for the CT scan. I don’t pay attention to her name or instructions. I just want to hear the conversation in the room.
“Jamie.” Daunis’s voice is the equivalent of a yellow stoplight. She continues quietly, but with unmistakable assertiveness. “There’s a lot to catch up on. We’re here for Lucy, and…”
I’m tempted to grip the doorframe as the CT person maneuvers my gurney into the hallway.
Daunis finishes with, “You should know I’m dating TJ Kewadin.”
* * *
Jamie is gone when I return from the CT scan. Daunis looks pensive in a chair near the window but snaps out of her reverie as soon as the gurney crosses the threshold. Two people help me back to bed. Daunis moves the chair closer to me. Even in the dim lighting, her eyes are swollen and red. She attempts a comforting smile that appears more like a grimace.
“You waste more energy fighting the sad than sitting with it.”
I don’t know why I tell her this. It’s something Miss Lonnie used to say.
Daunis nods. We sit in silence for a long time. I don’t know what she’s thinking about, but I try strategizing an escape plan. It goes no further than imagining me in my walker shuffling toward the hospital elevator, where Daunis catches up in a few long strides.
There must be a way to ditch the two of them, but for the life of me I can’t figure out how. Maybe I could think more clearly if Daunis weren’t in the room.
“You must be tired,” I say smoothly.
“Not yet,” she says. “I’m good until Jamie comes by later.”
The sadness fills her eyes again.
Ah yes. Him. The other tag-team guardian.
“Can I ask you something?”
She smiles. “Of course, Lucy. That’s why I’m here. To tell you everything you want to know about your sister, Lily, and your mom, Maggie, and—”
“Not about them,” I say. “About you and Jamie.” I allow a sly smile to emerge. “He’s got it bad for you.” My smile turns bashful. “I was curious about his story. And yours. You’re weird strangers intensely interested in me…” I let my voice trail off.
Daunis looks as if she’s trying to peer inside my brain. Then she sighs.
“Close your eyes and I’ll tell you a story,” she commands. “No interruptions or questions. I need to tell it the way I tell it.”
I do as she says. Her voice grows inside my head, squeezing all other thoughts aside. She begins, and the story comes to life as a sepia-toned silent movie she narrates.
* * *
It was the summer of 2004. Lily June Chippeway was my best friend. She was tiny and hilarious. Mouthy. Scrappy. The world’s worst parallel parker. Always dressed in black. Black eyeliner. Black lipstick. Loved Amy Winehouse. She was hardworking and fiercely loyal.