by Amanda Hough
I shook myself free of my thoughts and followed Antonina to the desk under a massive “Registration” sign.
Without a word I took Toni’s arm and moved her so I could ease her into the seat. Positioning the other chair a comfortable distance from the desk, I maneuvered myself forward and into the seat. No words exchanged. An exceptionally large African-American woman sat behind a monitor typing, her large bulbous head resting on her rolls of neck.
“Patient’s name?” she asked without looking up.
“Patricia Hume,” Toni replied without nuance. As the woman typed, Toni pulled the binder she had taken from her home and opened it, propping it on the edge of the desk.
In it, I spotted tabs labeled by month and color-coded. Though the code meant nothing to me initially after a few minutes of witnessing the exchange between the women, it became apparent that Toni checking her mother into an ER was not a novelty.
Within minutes she had relayed the recent history of her mother’s illness. An exact illness as yet unknown to me. She had a detailed list of all her mother’s medicines. It was lengthy. Doctors’ names, physical therapy, speech therapy and so much more.
I watched as Toni signed document after document. Not needing to be told where to sign or why to do it.
“Have they assigned my mom a room back there yet,” Toni asked, her eyes never leaving the paperwork.
The woman shook her head in the negative and informed us to wait in the lounge for the nurse.
Toni rolled her eyes and took a breath. “You got 20 minutes to get someone out here or I will go back on my own.” Before the woman could reply, and from the look on her face, I surmised she had quite a comeback, Toni stood, ordered me to do the same and together we headed to the waiting room.
We remained silent for a moment while I watched the woman beside me add notes to the already overflowing binder. Her handwriting was small and swirly. As she wrote, she frowned and the little freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose disappeared into the creases. She really was exceptionally beautiful up close. When her features weren’t schooled into a hateful growl just for me.
She’d pulled her honey blonde hair up and into a messy ponytail. And her face, which had been accentuated in smoke and peach, was devoid of color. Her eyes, always a striking feature in pale blue and ringed in gold, looked weary.
I breathed in and considered the female next to me. Always in control with a touch of haughty aloofness, she looked anything but right now. Instead her countenance was harried, her control tattering at the ends like a knit sweater unraveling. Soon to be a limp pile of yarn without a purpose.
“Can I do anything for you Antonina? Should I call someone for you? David?”
She said nothing at first, glancing over to me like she had forgotten I was there. Even in times like these, I wanted her regard but knew I wouldn’t get it. Probably didn’t deserve it.
Finally she shook her head and spoke. “No, don’t bother him. I’ll call Evelyn in the morning. No use in her coming down here anyway.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I called to let them know I wasn’t coming back. Sergey said she was nauseous.”
She sighed. “I hope she is okay. It’s all the stress of dealing with Eric and all the crazy with your family.”
“You know about that” I asked.
I had lunch with Evie and Brenna a couple weeks ago.” She gave me a sideways look. “It was mentioned.”
I chuckled. “Brenna is worried. I didn’t know you’d meant them before tonight.” I was glad the conversation was turning. If it kept her mind off what was happening to her mother behind those swinging doors it was worth it.
“I’d met Brenna. I hadn’t met Boris yet.” She smiled. “He’s great. Really funny.”
“Yeah, he is” I agreed.
“He really loves your sister. He looks at her the way Sergey looks at Evie.”
I didn’t understand what she meant. “How?”
She shrugged and her cheeks got pink. “Like she is the air he breathes. Like the world would unstitch without her.” She was quiet again after she finished her thought. Then she started again. And…” she trailed off, closing the notebook and placing it on the seat next to her. “Mikhailov, it’s really nice of you to be here but you should go. You can’t stay here for me.” Those few words of appreciation seemed to pain her and I smiled.
“Oh, yeah. Why not?”
“Because I know the drill. I will get to see her for a few minutes. They will give her something to sleep and I will either go home for a little bit or sleep right here.” She pointed at the hard plastic chair she sat in.
“And how will you get home?”
She shrugged and the veil of smartass flitted across her face. “They have these crazy inventions called cabs. You call and they come,” she ended with sarcasm.
I grinned. This was a Toni I could handle. Not the one who looked like she needed to be held. Protected.
“Oh, yeah. And how will you get to work tomorrow, eh? Another cab to the Booth?”
Toni sat up straighter and ignored my question. An older man in a white doctor’s coat was walking toward us now. His face set with that grim wariness all ER doctors and nurses seemed to sport.
“Toni Hume, right?” he asked as Antonina rose to take his hand. I stood too, cupping her elbow. My hand finding its way to the small of her back as we waited for the news. I patted her once, keeping her steady when she wobbled. She was bone weary. And she seemed to struggle to stand up straight.
The doctor motioned us to be seated and lowered himself into the chair across from our seats. “Well, your mom has fractured her fibula. The narrow bone in her lower leg,” he explained. “The way she describes the fall, it didn’t take much for the break to occur. This is worrisome.”
Toni nodded but said nothing. I didn’t understand but remained silent.
The doctor continued, “We are going to do a MRI to see the extent of the damage. I also want to see the scarring near her pelvis.”
“My mom said she got dizzy. Why not just an X-ray? She had her last MRI two weeks ago. I have the documentation…” Toni reached over to retrieve her binder.
“No, Ms. Hume.” The doctor touched her knee, bringing her back to the conversation. “She has only gone two weeks between attacks. She only went a few days without numbness in her legs. And her tremors never left at all. Her speech is markedly worse since she was in last. When I asked her about speech therapy, she didn’t remember going.”
Toni sat up straighter. “I definitely—”
The doctor interrupted with a wave of his hand. “I know you manage her therapies. I know you make sure she goes to her therapies.” He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees.
“I called your mom’s PCP. She is going to call you in the morning.” He paused and continued. “She was in here for a bump and laceration to her head two weeks ago. Before that it was spasms causing her catheter to dislodge. Before that it was her wandering off during physical therapy and ending up two miles from the facility not knowing her own name.”
My stomach clenched as he watched Toni bite at her lower lip. I should not be the one sitting her with her when she heard news like this. I pulled out my phone to call David.
“You’re admitting her then?” she asked.
“Yes, we can’t let her go home with this level of confusion. And the cut she suffered on her arm during the fall will, in all likelihood, require some surgery. She’s cut through some tendon. It is quite deep and could impact mobility in her forearm. I’ve called an orthopedic surgeon.” He stood then and Dragan guided Toni back to her feet. “You are a good daughter. And you’ve done a great job caring for your mom. Symptoms are becoming—”
“Unmanageable,” Toni finished and offered an imperceptible nod, stood and shook the doctor’s hand. I followed suit. Together we watched the doctor walk back down the corridor and through the double doors.
I was oddly disappointed when Toni didn’t insist I leave after the conv
ersation with the doctor. She hadn’t discussed the pronouncements from the physicians. She just went back to her binder. Notating in margins. Occasionally mumbling to herself.
After she was able to see her mom and say goodnight, I escorted her back through the ER. When she accepted my arm and let me lead her to my car, I was stunned. I continued to palm my cell phone. I’d brought David’s number up on the screen a half a dozen times. I didn’t have it in me to be the comfort she needed. David would know what to do. I found her borderline friendliness unsettling. And I knew she didn’t want someone she hated providing her comfort.
I was skirting the edge of a connection I couldn’t afford right now. I took my hand from the gearshift and put it to my upper lip. Taking a moment to trace where the scar that ran across it dipped into the philtrum. That weird little spot beneath the nose. An odd feature of the human anatomy that served no purpose. Just a residual souvenir of time in the womb. The two sides of your face develop independent of one another, and then join at the middle. I grimaced at the thought. Two faces. That was me.
The sound of the engine revving for third gear pulled me from my thoughts.
“You know,” Toni started. “If you can’t drive a manual transmission, you can park up ahead and I can do it for you.” The first words she’d uttered since leaving the hospital—and they were sarcastic. Balance restored.
“I got it, smartass. Just thinking.”
She settled in again and returned to her silence. A motionless Toni was unnerving. She was always running her mouth, moving…doing something. The sooner I got her out of the car the better.
When I pulled the Audi up to the house all was quiet. The lights and sirens that had disrupted the quiet cul de sac were gone. All that was left was a dormant neighborhood. Night had a firm grip and they only sounds were the distant chirps of frogs in an adjacent wooded area.
“Thanks,” she offered with her signature offhanded coldness going for the door. Again, before the car had come to a stop.
I’m walking you in.” I heard myself saying. My own voice, a surprise to me.
“Naw, I’m cool,” she said. Dismissing me for the third time that night.
Without replying I parked and unfolded from the car, keeping up behind her as she walked up the uneven cement path to the porch.
“You should keep your porch light on,” I said aloud. Not expecting a reply.
“I was in a bit of a rush when I left,” she answered thrusting the key in the lock.
“Get one with a timer. It will come on at dusk every night.”
After a struggle, Toni got the door unlocked and turned to send me on my way. “Thanks for that, handyman. I’ll get right on it.”
She turned and started to close the door but I followed her through the threshold and closed it behind me.
Toni turned and eyed me wearily and then her shoulders slumped. “Look, Mikhailov. There is little that I enjoy more than arguing with you but I’m tired. My head hurts. Maybe we could meet tomorrow and piss each other off, yeah?”
I stared at her for a moment before a grin started to spread across my face.
Toni looked at me in confusion. “Are you smiling at me right now?”
“Yeah,” I laughed. “Every time I piss you off… I don’t know. It makes me smile.”
Toni stared for a moment and then shrugged. “You want a drink? Wine, whiskey?”
I pulled my arms out of my suit jacket and laid it across the back of a chair.
“Water would be great,” I said as I began sliding the furniture that had been pushed to the side to accommodate the EMTs and their equipment. The living area was small. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out where the sofa and chair went. As I straightened the threadbare rug into the center of the room, I looked up to see Toni still staring at me. “So, is that water not happening? I asked with a smirk.
Toni grinned and turned toward the kitchen announcing her imminent return over her shoulder.
I rolled my shirtsleeves and went to the narrow hallway. Three doors presented themselves. I knew the one on the left was Toni’s mother’s bedroom. My intention was to go in and start cleaning up the mess the emergency personnel had left. Get everything that could be upsetting picked up. But, I paused at the door to the immediate right. It was likely Toni’s bedroom. The urge to open the door, to take a glimpse was overwhelming. I knew it would smell like her. Evocative and clean. I put a hand to the doorknob but pulled away like I’d been burned.
“You hungry, Mikhailov?” Toni called from the kitchen.
“Um, yeah. Thanks,” I called back absently, turning to the left and opening the door.
My hand glided across the wall until I found what I was looking for. With a flip, an overhead light illuminated the space. The room was trashed. The mattress on the narrow medical bed hung off the frame. Gauze and towels littered the floor. Burgundy stains blotted the terry cloth where someone had attempted to stem bleeding from Mrs. Hume’s wound. From the looks of it, she had lost a lot of blood.
I quickly knelt down and snatched the bloodstained items then righted the mattress. Dropping the soiled items in the center of the bed, I folded the fitted sheet around the towels and stripped the sheets off, tucking the linen in to hide any evidence of blood.
Next I stuffed the bundle into the pillowcase folded the duvet and laid it at the end of the bed. In the wastebasket next to the nightstand, someone had dumped the orphaned pieces from the ceramic lamp base and more bloody gauze. The majority of the lamp sitting on the nightstand.
I pivoted to find Toni standing in the threshold. Her hands filled with potato chips and bottled waters. Her eyes were wide and dewy, taking it all in. Her face turned up and she looked at me. Her gaze awakened a thousand little fingers tripping over my arms and up my neck. I focused on the bow of her mouth. Peach-hued lips on creamy skin. Beautiful, clean American beauty. That’s what she was.
She gifted me a small smile then. “If you wouldn’t mind, just put the sheets by the back door.”
“Of course.” My voice gruff, I cleared my throat. “I want to empty the wastebasket.”
She shook her head. “Leave it. I will get that.”
“No,” I replied. “I will take care of it now.” I leveraged the laundry under an arm and picked up the broken lamp and trash can. Raising my brows, she relented and directed me to the garbage outside the backdoor.
On my way back in, I stopped to wash my hands in the kitchen taking in the incredibly small size of it. There was no room for a table and chairs. All the surfaces were well-worn but spotless.
I found Toni seated on the sofa. She dumped the chips into a bowl and poured the water into glasses.
“I put a frozen pizza in the oven for us.” Toni said, an unidentified timbre in her voice.
I sat down next to her and nodded. Sweeping the bottled water from the table, I twisted the cap and downed it all in a few gulps.
We sat in silence for a moment before Toni began. “Thank you, Mikhailov. Taking care of Mom’s room like that…that was really nice of you,” she said this so quietly I had to turn my head to make sure it came from her.
“Are you alright?” I said back.
Toni frowned. “All right?” Not understanding the question.
“After everything the doctor said. You ok with all that? Do you…”I paused looking for the right words. “I don’t know. Do you need to talk?”
Toni laughed then and smacked me on the leg. “Don’t worry big guy. I’m not the kinda girl who needs a shoulder to cry on. I’ll be fine.” She stopped and took a drink of water. “I’m always fine,” she added like an afterthought.
I grinned and turned to ease into the corner of the sofa. I stretched my legs out. My presence like a dark shadow spreading toward Toni. Infringing on her personal space. I liked it.
She caught me staring at her legs and sighed. I looked at her face and a cocky grin was swiftly replaced with a pained expression.
“If you want to be usefu
l, my legs are sore from today.” She smiled. Was she daring me to touch her?
I leaned over and brought her legs up to rest on mine. “Why are they sore?” I asked.
“Getting Mom in her bath chair. She couldn’t help at all this morning. She’s heavier than she looks.” She didn’t look at me with she said it so I turned her face with my finger so I could see in her eyes.
“You shouldn’t be doing that. You’re too little to pick up people.”
She sighed. “She’s my mom.” She looked at me with genuine puzzlement on her face. “I would do anything for her.”
I didn’t push it and positioned her legs across my thighs. Her eyes went wide when I let my fingertips graze her ankle. I kept my touch light. Her eyes went to my hand as I slid my touch over the top of her foot. Slowly I made my way up her calf to her knee. I let it settle there for a moment. Feigning indecisiveness. Then I started again, my fingers curling around her knee to the soft flesh behind it. I kept my eyes on my mission. Gently I worked my thumb into the muscle at her thigh. My palms, a rough contrast to her delicate skin. I kneaded the muscle and heard her moan.
Leaning forward, I glided my arm under her thighs and brought her closer.
Catching herself on her elbows she watched me massage one leg, then the other. From the top of her thigh to her toes I worked. With every gentle squeeze, the knot of anticipation in my balls constricted and then realigned, my cock pulling toward her, like a dowsing rod. But not for water, for pussy. She remained transfixed as my hand worked its way up and between her thighs. My thumb swirling, manipulating. The action, little by little, exposing more of her to me.
My hand finally stopped. The tips of my fingers just touching the lace between her legs. My thumb so close, right where I wanted to be. God, how long had it been since I’d been between a woman’s legs? No, not a woman. I wanted this woman. I wanted her body under me. Her mouth on me. I wanted to taste every fucking inch of her beautiful feminine body. . I could smell her and my mind cluttered with filthy images. Shit, I could smell the heat coming off her.
“Mikhailov,” she called. Her voice thick and …amused?
