“Sure.” I rinse the cup and pick up another, filling it from the pot on the counter. “You’re working pretty hard over there.”
“Oh. Yeah.” She glances over her shoulder almost guiltily. “Research, mostly.”
“Cool.” I set the cup on the counter. “Anything else?”
“No, thanks.”
“There’re some day-old pastries going for half price.”
She hesitates. “Yeah?”
“Apple fritter,” I say, “two dollars.”
“Done.” She digs the bills from her jeans pocket and smooths them out on the glass.
I fetch the pastry from the case and plate it. “Enjoy.”
“Definitely,” she says, raising the plate.
In the lull, I rinse a bar towel in hot water and come around the counter to wipe the tables and counters thoroughly, spraying them all with a lemony cleaner that probably isn’t organic but smells like it.
I’m not sure what happens, but I swing around to spray a table behind me, and my foot catches on a chair or a table leg or something, and I’m falling before I realize what’s going on. The spray bottle is in my left hand, and instinctively, I’m idiotically protecting it as I go down.
Which means that my right hand takes the full brunt of my fall, my palm landing half on the metal round of a table base, half on the floor. Pain rockets through my wrist, and before I even fully register what’s happened, I know the rest of my day is going to be quite a bit different from what I imagined.
Then the slow motion stops. I slam into the ground, crumpling under the force of my fall. The spray bottle goes flying, and my feet knock over a chair. People leap to my aid—the woman with the shiny hair, Ayaz crouching, another customer who’s been sitting at the counter. He’s a long-haired surfer in board shorts and bright pink flip-flops, and he’s first to my side. His hands are on my shoulders. “Dude, are you okay?”
I’m both very embarrassed and in a lot of pain. I sit up, holding my arm close to my chest. “I’m all right.”
“Sure?” the woman says gently. “That looked like a pretty hard fall.”
“I’m good.” My face is flaming. “Can you help me up?”
She’s strong, and hauls me to my feet with my left hand.
Ayaz calmly says, “May I see your wrist?”
“It’s really okay,” I say, but tears sting my eyes. The pain is loud.
He takes my elbow and very, very gently braces my hand on his palm. Even that much pressure makes me bite back a cry, and the joint is swelling right before our eyes.
“You’ll need to get that looked at,” Surfer Guy says. “Kinda looks broken, I’m sorry to say.”
As if to emphasize this, a pain shoots through the bone, all the way up to my elbow. “Thanks.”
The dark-haired woman looks at her watch and swears. “I have to get to work in five minutes. Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes. I’ll be fine. My mom lives here. Or I’ll call my sister.”
She touches my shoulder and I feel like she’s going to say something else, but my boss comes out right then. “Holy shit, lady,” Jessica says. “Did you break your arm?”
“I’m really okay,” I protest.
“You really are not,” Ayaz says calmly.
“You can’t drive, either, can you?” Jessica says. “I just sent Randi home. If we both leave, I have to close.”
I stare at my wrist and know I can’t drive. “I can call my sister.” Except I think her kids are getting out of school, and after the big stand over sending Meadow home, I’d feel like a total ass calling her.
“Will you allow me to drive you?” Ayaz offers. “It’s not far.”
I’m about to protest, but Jessica says, “Oh my God, would you, my friend? It would be such a help. I’ll give you free coffee for a month.”
“Unnecessary.” He moves my arm back to my belly and I hold it protectively. “I’m happy to help.”
Jessica says, “Let me get you the workers’ comp info.”
I stare after her, crumpling inside. Am I going to have to give up the job, which I’ve started to like and is giving some shape to my days? Where else can I go? It’s not like I have a lot of skills outside the wine business. Meadow would give me work at the farm, I guess, but that makes my spine stiff with resistance.
I realize I’m totally the center of attention, and people are staring, all except the woman with dark hair, who waves as she runs out.