Page 22 of The Marriage Rebound

“Do you want somethin’ to eat?” Sasha asked as we made our way up to the living room. She’d been mostly quiet, but I could feel her anxious energy while we’d waited.

I shook my head as I plopped down onto the couch. “Nah, I’m good.”

“You sure? I can make you somethin’.”

“I don’t want you to go through any trouble for me.”

“It’s no trouble at all. Let me fix you somethin’. The doctor says you have to take your pain meds with food.” She shook the bag that held my prescription bottle.

Surprisingly, the pain in my wrist wasn’t terrible, but that was probably due to the nerve blocker Dr. Michaels had given me before setting my wrist and putting on the cast. But I was definitely feeling the soreness from falling down the stairs elsewhere. My back hurt and my tailbone was bruised.

“Okay,” I conceded. “A sandwich or something should be fine.”

From upstairs, I could hear Vuitton whimpering. Sasha had secured him in his room, which he was unhappy about. And when she brought him down earlier, she’d done her best to try and keep him away from me. I don’t know what she thought I’d do to him. I mean, yeah, he’d been in the way and I’d tripped because of him. But it wasn’t like I would hold a grudge against the dog for being a damn dog. Even if he was annoying at times. She loved the animal. And it wasn’t like he knew how to be intentional.

It was an accident. A freak accident. One I was sure Shae and Tina would give me shit about once I was done sulking.

So many worries flipped through my head. Benched for at least eight weeks. I needed to go over the finances, see what things I needed to move around. Make sure all would be okay without the additional income. I had contingency plans in place, and they were there for this very reason, but it amped up my anxiety having to tap into them. Especially when I knew I wouldn’t be replacing the funds anytime soon.

However, despite the stress of it all, what I wanted—needed—most was to sleep. The tiredness of everything settled in like an old friend. I reached over and grabbed a few of the throw pillows, then adjusted myself so that I could lie down on the couch after kicking off my shoes. I just wanted this entire day to be over. To have a do-over. Why couldn’t I get a do-over? Maybe I’d wake up from this terrible dream.

No sooner than I’d gotten comfortable, my phone started vibrating. With a grunt I managed to slip it from my pocket to see my sister calling me for the fifth time. Sasha had sent her a text message, letting her know what was going on, and she’d been calling me nonstop since. I’d told her I’d call her back once I got through at the hospital.

Sliding the green button over, I figured I’d delayed long enough. “Hey, My, what’s up?”

“Oh my god! What took you so long to get back to me? I get a random text message from Sasha saying that you fell down the stairs. And then you tell me you’re at the hospital and you’ll call me back. But you didn’t call me back. What the hell is going on? How did you fall down the stairs? How bad is it? Are you okay? Do I need to try and get a flight to come see you? Like what is the problem?”

She rattled off questions a mile a minute. “Take a breath, lil’ sis, it’s all good. Yes, I fell down the stairs. Yes, I hurt a little bit. It was a freak accident. I was half asleep trying to take Vuitton out. He got in my path as I went to take a step, my foot hit him instead of the stair, his yelp scared me, and I went tumbling.”

“Oh my god! Like how far down? Sasha’s text said something about your wrist being fractured. But is it a big thing like needing surgery?”

“Nah, nothing like that. Thank goodness.” I held up my arm, rotating it to look at the cast once more. “I’m in a cast. And that means no overseas for me. I’ll be here.”

Silence. “Whoa,” she finally breathed out.

“Yeah.”

“Like you’re gonna be forced to actually sit your ass down somewhere finally.”

I pulled the phone from my ear and frowned at it. “What the hell you talkin’ about?”

“You know what,” she said with a laugh. “You can’t sit your ass still. You don’t know how. How are you going to sit at home for however long you are in this cast and not do anything? That goes against your very being.”

“Whatever, I can sit still just fine. I work because I have to. I have responsibilities. You know, shit like tuition, dorm, meal plan. So, you know, everyday I’m hustlin’.” I’d been finding ways to make money since I was twelve. It wasn’t always easy, but I always figured it out because I learned at an early age I had to.

Mya sighed, and when she spoke again the teasing was gone from her voice. “I know. I know. You do a lot for me, Courtney. You always have. And I appreciate you. You know I do.”

I’d been my sister’s de facto parent pretty much her whole life. I stepped in to do what I could however possible to soften some of the disappointments that came with being the child of Shawn and Roslyn Bradford. Two people whose love for each other was so all-encompassing it left little to no room for it to be shared with other people, including their children.

“I know, My-My.”

“I mean, it sucks majorly that you’re injured. But it forcing you to slow down, rest, and let someone take care of you for a change isn’t a bad thing.”

She wasn’t completely wrong. Slowing down wasn’t something I knew how to do. I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t have someone depending on me for something, whether it was something as basic as making sure dinner was on the table or forging one of the parent’s signatures on a permission slip, or paying for a field trip. As time went on, responsibilities compounded, so slowing down . . . it was a foreign concept.

I craned my neck back to look at Sasha as she stood in the fridge, drumming her fingers on the open doors. As was letting someone take care of me. “Sasha is here, she’s preparing me something to eat as we speak.”

“That’s good. She needs to make that bomb-ass pasta for you.”