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14
Emma
When I wake up, I feel utterly dreadful. My head hurts, my mouth feels like a sandpit, and I am certain there is some invisible force pinning my body to the bed. I try to move, and suddenly, an agonizing pain shoots up my arm.
“Argh!”
I lift my wrist and see the bandage. And then I remember. Well, I sort of remember. I remember the bee, and I remember falling, and I remember the hospital. I don’t remember coming home; I don’t remember getting out of the truck or into the house. In fact, I don’t even remember getting into bed. How had I gotten into bed?
I suddenly remember Finn paying the pretty receptionist. The receptionist with wide eyes and a full smiling mouth, the receptionist who nearly drooled as she looked up at Finn while he stood there, swiping his credit card.
Hang on!
He paid the bill!
Even in my groggy state, I distinctly remember him giving me that spiel about knowing a way to get medical care while not having health insurance. He did know a way; it was called paying the bill. Clearly, he had intended to pay from the very beginning. I will need to call him out on that one. But as I close my eyes again, and the tiredness takes me over, I tell myself that I’ll do it later.
I call him out when I see him at lunch.
“So, tell me,” I say, leaning on the breakfast bar while he makes me a cup of tea. He must have been watching me make it, because he follows the steps exactly. Or maybe he’s a grown man, and he just knows how to make a cup of tea.
Seriously, Emma.
“What is this secret you know to get around not having health insurance?” I’m playfully smirking when I ask this question.
Finn turns and looks at me. “Yes, about that. Listen. You were in too much pain. I needed to tell you something so you would let me take you to the hospital.”
“So, you lied.”
“I was economical with the truth,” he replies with a soft smile.
“Oh, that’s a new one,” I laugh.
He chuckles a little, but not quite as easily as he usually does. There’s something different about him today. Not different in a bad way. Just different. I want to ask, but maybe it’s something to do with his divorce. I don’t want to pry, so I leave it.
“How are you feeling today?” he asks once he’s placed my tea beside his coffee on the breakfast bar.
“Weird. I feel like my head is not part of my body. Like I’m disengaged somehow. It’s hard to explain.”
“That’s the medication,” Finn acknowledges. “It’s strong stuff.”
“Oh, I know. I can hardly remember anything about yesterday.”
“Apart from me paying your bill, apparently,” he says sarcastically.
I grin and shrug.
“What about the wrist?” he nods to my arm, which now sits cradled in a sling.
“The medication is definitely beginning to wear off,” I say. My wrist was smarting a little when I woke up earlier. Now, it’s throbbing painfully, but I’m not going to tell him that.
He lifts his coffee and turns toward the kitchen door. “I have to go and do some stuff.” He jerks his head up toward the ceiling, indicating the study he’s been working in. “You need to rest today, Emma,” he says, looking at my hand again.
“Okay,” I reply. I smile at him as he leaves the kitchen, but inside, I’m disappointed that he has to go.
After a couple of hours pass, I’m bored to death. I’ve tried to relax. I’ve tried to read a book. I’ve even tried to meditate. None of it is working. I just can’t sit here when I can be doing something productive.
Returning to my room, I manage to get myself dressed. Not without some amount of wincing, I might add. I then return to the kitchen and head to the cupboard that contains the first aid kit. Taking the bottle of pills that I saw Finn open yesterday, I down two tablets with some water. After putting everything back where it belongs, I head outside and take a look at the garden.
