“Pretty sure,” she tells him, her voice dripping in sarcasm. At least the crowd of spectators has dissipated. For a while, a swarm of tourists watched on while a pair of paramedics strapped Priya to a gurney, like this was a vital part of the New York City tourism experience.
“Well, be prepared to wait is all I’m saying.” The paramedic offers his parting words before slamming shut the ambulance’s double doors and slapping a flat palm against the door twice to signal his partner in the driver’s seat.
Finn tried to ride with Priya, but she shut him down, so I’m in the back with her. “I’m not saying it’s your fault, Finn, but if you listened to me, this never would have happened,” Priya said skyward, her neck cradled in a head immobilizer in case of spinal injuries.
* * *
? ? ?
?The emergency room at NYU Langone is more crowded than a sold-out show at Irving Plaza and the door policy is twice as tight. After Priya’s X-rays a nurse deposits us in a curtained-off cubicle to wait for a doctor to tell us what we already know: her leg is broken.
“Does anyone want more coffee?” I ask from my perch at the foot of Priya’s bed. A graveyard of takeout coffee cups litters the C-shaped rolling table beside us. If I have any more coffee I might need a hospital bed of my own, but the act of getting it from the vending machine in the lobby is something to do to pass the time.
“Not unless you have a flask to spike it,” Theo replies. “2014 Finn would have had a flask.”
“2014 Finn also would’ve had a hangover,” I add. Theo gives a knowing laugh.
Finn ignores us, instead beginning what has become a familiar call-and-response over the past couple of hours. “Are you in pain?” he asks Priya.
“Yes,” she answers through gritted teeth, though I’m guessing her harsh tone is more annoyance than pain.
“Is there anything I can do?”
The first few times he asked, she simply said no, there was nothing he could do, but this time she snaps back at him: “Not unless you have a time machine and can go back in time and attend medical school.”
This is getting uncomfortable. I grapple for anything to say to lighten the mood. “Finn failed Biology 101 twice,” I offer. “He had to take geology for his science credit instead. They dumb it down so much they call it Rocks for Jocks. It’s the class all the football players take to fulfill their core requirement. Trust me, you would not want Finn as your doctor.”
Priya gives a grim nod. “Yeah, hard pass.”
“So I guess it’s gang-up-on-Finn day. I thought that’s usually in April.” Finn does not sound amused. He scrubs a hand through his hair. “Also, not to be a dick, but this was supposed to be one last special Christmas before I go to LA.”
“Do not make this about yourself,” Priya warns.
Before things can escalate, a staggeringly handsome doctor with a day’s worth of stubble and coif of messy brown hair pulls aside the curtain to our cubicle. He looks like he was plucked from central casting of a network medical drama.
“Priya Patel?” he reads off the chart in his hands.
Priya smooths a hand over her own hair. Paula used so much gel to set her finger curls that there’s not a single strand out of place despite a fall, an ambulance ride, and two hours in bed. I can’t fault her for the vanity, though—the doctor is easily six feet tall and is surveying the room with a pair of ice-blue eyes.
“Ben?” Priya asks, her kohl-rimmed eyes wide with shock.
Ben? Like Ben, Ben?
Priya’s Ben? Her ex-something, Ben?
It’s true what they say that sometimes New York is like a small town, but if there’s ever a time to run into an ex, doing it with professional hair and makeup might be the best possible option.
“Priya?” He looks down at his chart and then back up at her, equally shocked, like he’s waking up from autopilot mode and didn’t register her name when he read it.
“Erm . . .” He stumbles before stalling out.
The three of us swivel our heads back and forth between Ben and Priya.
“I can get you another doctor if you want,” he says eventually, “but you’d probably have to wait.”
“No, it’s fine,” she tells him. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”
“Maybe your friends could step out for a moment so I can perform an exam?”
Over Ben’s shoulder, I give Priya a questioning look, and she returns a subtle nod. “We’ll be in the waiting room when you’re done,” I tell them.
* * *
? ? ?
?We’re lucky to find three chairs together, probably because everyone in the ER waiting room is avoiding the man sitting next to me, his finger wrapped in a blood-stained dishtowel. When he catches me looking, he confides, “Mandolin accident. That Ina makes everything look so easy, but I think I’m purely a Jeffrey from here on out.”
Twenty minutes later a nurse beelines toward us. My body tenses as I take in her panicked expression. Are things with Priya more serious than we thought? The paramedic insisted the head stabilizer was only a precaution, and they didn’t truly suspect spinal injuries.
“What are you doing out here?” the nurse asks. She crosses her arms over her chest while she waits for our answer.
I look from side to side to see if there’s anyone else she could be talking to. When she doesn’t budge, I point at myself. “Me? Us?”
“Yes, you. Who else would I be talking to?” She cocks a hand on her hip like a stern schoolmarm. “You were supposed to be here at six. You’re late.”
“Excuse me?” Unless she’s psychic, there’s no way she was expecting us.
“You are the theater troupe, right?” she asks in an annoyed tone. “You’re supposed to be on the children’s wing, not down here. Your show was supposed to start after dinner. The kids are on a strict schedule and need to start getting ready for bed.”
“What?” I ask, confused. Beside me, Finn and Theo have their heads tipped together and have dissolved in a fit of church giggles. When I look over at them, it hits me. I completely forgot what we’re wearing. Finn in his rainbow eye makeup and matching cape, Theo with his powdered wig, his crown resting in his lap, and me in my ball gown. I snort-laugh imagining how we must look to everyone else in the waiting room; no wonder everyone is giving us a wide berth.
“Contrary to what our outfits might lead you to believe, we are not the theater troupe. Just some stylish citizens.” Theo pops out of his chair to explain. He offers her a mock bow and his wig comes sliding off his head.
“I mean, we could be the theater troupe . . . ,” Finn counters.
I elbow him in the side. “We’re waiting for Priya.”
“Fine, we’re not the theater troupe,” he corrects himself.
The nurse narrows her eyes, trying to figure out if this is some weird “Who’s on First” bit. Before she can decide, Dr. Ben swoops in and offers to bring us back to see Priya. Theo throws the confused nurse a wave over his shoulder as we follow Ben out of the waiting area.
“It’s broken,” Priya announces when we walk into her cubicle. “We need to wait for ortho to come and put on a cast and then we can go. I’m going to be in it for at least eight weeks.”