by Becca Bloom
"What? We with her at La Casa del Árbol," complained Abuelita.
"Forgive me if I do not find your testimony convincing, Señora Jimenez." He didn't sound sorry at all. After the stunts we'd pulled during his last murder case, it was understandable.
The swinging door hadn't settled into place yet when Jake wrapped his hand gently around my arm. "I'm taking you to the doctor. You hit your head pretty hard. Tia Rosa, can you please tell the Santorinis that Jess won't make it to her Spanish class tonight?" To me, he added, "The doctor will want you to rest."
"I'll go with you. Dr. Montalvo always gives me a lollipop," said Adi, no doubt happy to part from Abuelita's company.
"Good idea, Jake. We'll manage just fine here. The lunch rush is over," said Sylvia, picking up a knife and mincing some garlic cloves on the cutting board.
The doctor's office was a few blocks away and Jake steered me through the crowded sidewalks with his hand on my back. Not low enough to mean anything, but not high enough for me to worry I was forever stuck in "Friendville." Yeah, that’s right. Maybe it was the concussion, the shock at seeing a dead body, the jolt to my tailbone, or my already stiffening muscles, but I still had room in my head to notice the positioning of Jake’s hand and to place way too much importance on it.
"You introduce Jess to Dr. Montalvo. I want to talk to Vanessa. I don't know if she's heard the news yet," said Adi.
"What a horrible thing to have happen right before her wedding." I didn't even know her and I felt bad for her. "You don't think they'll postpone their wedding, do you?"
Adi grimaced. "That's partly what I want to find out. A wedding should be a joyful occasion and they'd have this giant black cloud looming over them at the ceremony. While the timing royally stinks for me, I wouldn't blame her if she decides to put the wedding off until things calm down."
Jake stopped in front of a pharmacy with a window in the floor above it painted with bright gold letters, Dr. Ignacio Montalvo, Pediatra.
"Pediatra? He’s a pediatrician?" I asked.
Jake smiled. "He's taken care of Adi and I since we were born. He'll take good care of you too."
Adi leaned in. "Just don't let him worry you too much. He loves to make a big deal over nothing. One time, I came to him with a stomach-ache and he almost convinced me that my appendix had exploded until he’d finished the exam."
Not being in a position to do anything but go along with them, I followed Adi up the instruments of torture (aka, stairs) to a reception area with squeaky, wood floors and potted plants in every corner.
Adi spoke with the receptionist, then came over to where we stood. I still wasn't brave enough to attempt to sit. "She said the doctor is currently with a patient, but should be able to attend to you soon. We must have walked right by Vanessa. She's downstairs at the pharmacy. I'll be right back."
As Adi left us and the door opened to let out a woman holding her crying baby, it dawned on me that I was about to have my head and butt inspected by a doctor I didn’t know if I could communicate with. Jake had said he spoke English, but that didn’t necessarily mean we could understand each other. And there was no way I was going to ask Jake for help.
The doctor was ancient. Like … really, really old. He could have been Abuelita’s pediatrician. He reminded me of a tortoise with his wrinkled, weathered face and the way he craned his neck forward from his rounded back.
Greeting Jake with a hug, Dr. Montalvo asked, "And who do we have here? Have you finally decided to settle down?"
"No!" Jake and I answered in unison, making Dr. Montalvo chuckle.
"You young people remind me of what it was like to be your age. Now, I'm old and all my kids have left home. I had to learn English just so I could speak with my grandkids. They live in Florida. Do you know them?" he asked me, as if Oregon was anywhere near Florida.
"No. I can't say I do."
"They live near Orlando. How far is that from where you live? Oh, forgive me, I forgot to ask where you are from. Do you live in Orlando?"
"I don't. Florida is on the east coast and I'm from the west coast. Oregon."
Dr. Montalvo tapped his forehead and led us into his office. "I forget how big the United States is. All I know is Orlando and Miami. Do you have family here in Ecuador? You look a lot like a man I know in Cuenca."
Another strike for the doctor. I hoped his doctoring skills were as good as his English (and a far cry from his geography). “Nope. No family here.”
“Hmm. Are you sure? He has a business selling Panama hats, which, I’m sure you’ve learned did not originate in Panama.”
“I’m sure I have no family here. Oh, and that was a surprise to me. You’d think they’d name the hats after the country that makes them, not the country they were sent to. Do you have the man’s business card? I’d like to get my dad a Panama hat before I return home.”
“Of course. I apologize for my confusion. All you foreigners look alike to me. I suppose it’s the same for you here, too, isn’t it?”
I wouldn’t have said as much aloud, but most everyone did look the same to me. Medium to short height, brown eyes, and dark brown hair. It had never occurred to me that it’d be the same for him.
He invited me to sit in one of the two, leather chairs in front of his giant, mahogany desk.
I studied the chair. It looked soft enough. I contemplated how to lower myself into it.
Jake said, "Actually, I'm going to wait out in the lobby. I'll leave Jess in your capable hands. Try not to scare her too much, okay?"
Dr. Montalvo chuckled. "I only say aloud what I think in my mind. Here," he said, grabbing a glass jar full of colorful suckers, "take one for yourself and one for Adi."
Jake chose orange and red and departed.
Spinning the lid back on the jar, Dr. Montalvo explained, "You will get one after your examination." He opened a drawer in the dresser behind his desk and pulled out a leather donut cushion. Tossing it to me, he said, "Your hesitation to sit makes me suspect you need this. I didn't want to give it to you until Jake left, but you shouldn't be embarrassed to use it in front of an old man like me."
I could have hugged him. Thanking him, I gently settled onto the round pillow. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but it gave my swollen feet a much-needed break.
"Okay, so tell me what happened," said Dr. Montalvo, putting on a pair of thick tortoise-shell bifocals and tilting his head back to look at me through them.
I didn't mean to tell him as much as I did, but once I got talking it was hard to stop. Maybe it was the concussion, my need to provide context, or how comfortable he made me feel, but I told him not only about my injuries but everything surrounding them.
Chapter 7
Like a patient grandpa, Dr. Montalvo nodded his head and exclaimed when it was appropriate while asking questions pertinent to my tailbone and the bump on my head (most likely to prevent me from veering too far off topic).
"You have had an eventful day, señorita. Now, the fact you're able to sit with the use of the cushion makes me think your tailbone will heal without any intervention from me." He pulled out his prescription pad and scribbled on it. "Buy some ibuprofen. That'll help with the swelling. If you notice any bruising or swelling after a few days, then you come back to me. Ice the area for fifteen to twenty minutes four times a day until you feel some relief. It should take about four weeks to heal thoroughly. No bike rides or extended periods of time sitting." He ripped the sheet of paper off the pad and handed it to me. I was glad he'd told me what it said because there was no way I could read his writing.
"Ibuprofen, ice, and no bikes," I repeated.
"And pay attention to unusual bruising and swelling. You're getting off easy this time, but if you don't notice an improvement in the next couple days, I'll need to do a proper exam. While I doubt it, it is possible you fractured or even displaced the bone. It's a real pain in the tush — pardon the pun — to get it back in alignment."
I'd been waiting for more "pain-in-t
he-butt" jokes since Abuelita's comment, but it surprised me to hear it come from the doctor. Still, it made me laugh ... which made me wince ... which made me struggle to control my expression before he decided to change his mind about that proper exam.
Fortunately for me, he moved on to my next injury. I didn’t get why Jake and Adi had warned me about him. So far, he’d done nothing but reassure me. Standing up from the desk, he grabbed a flashlight and magnifying glass, and stopped behind my chair. As most doctors do, he poked directly into the center of my wound and asked, "Does this hurt?"
No, that feels great!, I thought. "Yes," I managed to say through gritted teeth.
"Oh, this is bad. Very bad," he muttered, not so quietly I couldn’t hear him.
"What's bad?" I asked, panic surging through me and pounding in my pulsating head.
"Well, you know what a concussion is, don't you? It's an injury to the brain. It is not something to take lightly." He poked it again and, before I could smack his hand away, he pivoted to the front of my chair and shone the flashlight in my eyes. "You have one pupil dilated. That's very bad."
"I have an astigmatism. My eyes do that all the time."
"Hmm. We'll still have to watch it," he said, turning the flashlight off. "You mentioned you felt nauseated when you saw the dead body. Are you still nauseated?"
Well, yeah! This talk about brain injuries wasn't helping. "A little."
"Hmm," he rubbed his chin and leaned back against the front of his desk facing me. "Headache?"
"Yes," I tried to say like it was a normal, run-of-the-mill headache instead of the throbbing pain it was.
"I'm tempted to check you into the clinic for observation and to control the swelling. You could have bleeding in the brain. If your symptoms worsen, you may need surgery and Baños simply doesn't have the equipment for that. We'd have to send you by ambulance to Ambato or possibly even Quito and hope they can treat you before you suffer permanent brain damage."
Just listening to him made my symptoms worse. Bile burned my throat and my head throbbed so badly, I instinctively searched the room for the nearest garbage can in case I lost control of my stomach.
A knock sounded at the door. "Is it safe?" Jake's voice asked.
"Come on in. I'm just discussing treatment options with the señorita."
"That's what I was afraid of," Jake muttered to me as he sat in the chair next to me. To Dr. Montalvo, he said, "Well, if you're done scaring her out of her mind, can I take her home so she can rest?"
The doctor's face fell like a scolded child. "It's only fair for me to warn my patients of the worst-case scenario."
Jake grinned. To me, he said, "He always does this so his patients take their medicine and do everything he instructs them to do or else risk a fate worse than death."
Pushing his bifocals up his bulbous nose, Dr. Montalvo said, "It's worked for almost fifty years. I see no need to change methods now."
"So I don't need surgery?" I asked, tottering between relief and anxiety.
Grabbing the glass candy jar, he held it open for me. I selected a red sucker. "Not today, you don't. If your headache and nausea worsen, if your visions goes blurry, or if your speech slurs, come back and see me immediately. But most likely, after a good night's rest, you'll wake up fine tomorrow."
And I had been ready to call my family to say my "Good-byes." I'd still call them — I needed to hear their voices — but not for that.
"Thank you," I said, pulling the plastic off the candy and popping it into my mouth. It wasn't cake, but it would have to do until I could make something sweet, gooey, and soul-comforting.
Another knock sounded on the consult door. "Honey, the mayor is here to see you," said a sweet voice I could only guess belonged to his wife.
Dr. Montalvo groaned. "If I could, I would trade you pains in the butt," he said to me.
"The mayor?" I guessed, hoping he was referring to the politician instead of his wife.
"You've probably heard about the fair he's arranging in town to raise money for the mineral baths under the waterfall. They're in need of repair and he's already trying to win voter's favor for elections next year. He's got my wife involved, it being for a good cause, but I will be grateful when it's all over. I've had to invite him for dinner three times already this week so he could discuss plans and all kinds of other things I'm not interested in."
To the door, he said, "I'm with a patient, mi amor. I'll be out in a minute." Turning back around to the dresser behind him, he pulled out several drawers and poked through their contents. "Hold on just a minute. I think I have some ibuprofen here. Don't leave just yet. Give me a second and I'll find it."
He was obviously stalling. Well, I could help him there. “Dr. Montalvo, please don’t forget to look for the business card for the man with the Panama hats.”
Dr. Montalvo wagged his finger and grinned at me. “Ah, that’s right. It had slipped through my mind. Thank you so much for reminding me. This old brain, you know.” He pulled another drawer open, finally found the box of medicine he searched for, then pulled a stash of cards from his desk out of his top drawer, mumbling, “I have a wife. I have a nurse. I have a secretary. I even have a cleaning lady … and still, I cannot find a thing in this office.”
“If you used the Internet, you could file all that away in a digital organizer,” suggested Jake.
Dr. Montalvo huffed. “I’m too old to learn how to use these newfangled devices. My oldest grandson sent me one of those giant cell phones with the apple on it. What do you call it?” He wiggled his fingers in the air in search of the word.
“An iPad?” I offered.
“That’s it. He calls me on it sometimes, but Elena has to push all the buttons.” Peeking at me over the top of his glasses, he added, “Elena is my wife.”
Another, more insistent knock sounded at his door. It was time for us to leave.
“Ay, mamacita, what will it be now? He probably has no dinner at home and is sniffing around here for a free meal,” complained the doctor as he opened the door and stood off to the side to let us out upon which his wife charged into his office, followed by a clean-cut man with a bright, white smile, wearing a suit and leaving a trail of cologne behind him. He must be the mayor.
Stepping toward us, Dr. Montalvo said, "Ah, I almost forgot. If you see Vanessa before I do, please tell her she can take the rest of the week off. More if she needs. She's a good nurse, but she needs to be with Roberto now. He's a good doctor, too. And señorita Jessica, don't take this the wrong way, but I hope not to see you again very soon."
I laughed. "Well, don't take this the wrong way, but I don't want to have to see you too soon either."
The wrinkles lined his face like a smiling road map. "Very good. You let this young man take care of you and let's hope our next visit is a social call."
"Deal." I reached out and shook his hand. I understood why Jake and Adi liked to go to him. He was nice. Even if he had scared me out of my mind.
Adi was at the bottom of the stairs. "I was just on my way to join you guys," she said. "I was able to catch Vanessa up on what happened to Victor before Roberto called. She went over there right away."
"If we see her, Dr. Montalvo wants us to tell her to take the rest of the week off … and more, if she needs," said Jake.
"I'll take care of it. She doesn't know what to do about the wedding until she talks it over with Roberto, so I kind of have to hang around until I know more."
Jake wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Adi. Your first big job should go smoother than this."
"Looking on the positive side, even if they cancel the wedding until later, she'll still need her dresses … eventually." Adi smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
We continued to the restaurant. Victor's ice cream parlor had yellow tape all over the doors and windows. A police officer with a machine gun stood at the entrance with a scowl on his face, daring anyone to try to get past him. It made me wonder if Abuelita or Tia R
osa had paid him a visit. I wouldn't put it past them.
With the doctor's orders to rest, I left Adi and Jake downstairs to prepare for the dinner crowd while I went upstairs for a much-needed call to my parents. They wouldn't be home, having decided to travel the height and breadth of the United States in a mobile home. Chances were one of them would answer my call if they weren't inside a museum or art gallery.
Mom answered. "Jessica! What a surprise! I'm so glad you called." She tilted the screen over to Dad. He waved at me, only taking his eyes off the road long enough to give me a smile.
A hand with orange fingernails appeared over Mom’s shoulder. "I'm here too, pumpkin! Helen, move the screen over here so I can see my girl."
My heart leapt and I almost cried at the sight of Mammy. I was going to call her next, but having my three favorite people in the same place made me so happy. "Mammy! What are you doing traveling with Mom and Dad? I thought you were going to stay behind to house-sit."
She chuckled. "And miss out on all the excitement? No, I wasn't about to let these two go on an adventure without me. Besides, they'll have more fun with me. They wouldn't have stopped to see the tallest barber pole in the world had I not drawn it to their attention."
Mom rolled her eyes. "It was a telephone pole painted like a barber pole."
Mammy snapped back, "You can't win them all. What if you drove all over the country only to learn of an opportunity you passed by and wished you'd have seen?"
"A barber pole is hardly an opportunity, Mom," said Dad, adding, "I'd rather hear about my daughter's adventures. I bet they're more exciting than ours anyway. What's going on, sweetie? What's happened since we talked with you last time?"
I started off with the easy stuff. "I went to the Swing at the End of the World this morning."
Mammy clapped and squealed. "Did you swing on it? Oh, I'd love to do that!"
