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“What the fuck?” my sister says. It’s exactly what I was thinking.
A red incision mark runs at least six inches long, making a jagged curve near Kyle’s shoulder. Black stitches run the length. The skin around them looks inflamed.
“Looks like your hip did,” Brighton says over her shoulder to me. “Though, I bet this one was an easier fix.” To Livy, she adds, “Top-notch stitches. None have opened. No puss. That’s all good. There’s some redness, though, which could indicate infection. Did they give him an antibiotic?”
“They gave him a shot of something, but no pills.”
“Hmmm. Are you okay if I call and ask what? I can fill something if it’s not contraindicated.”
“His vet is at Arabel Veterinary Clinic. I have their number in my phone, but it’s in my room.”
“I’ve got it.” Bright thumbs through her phone. “Google maps for the win.” She strokes Kyle and talks to him until she abruptly stops. “Hi, Ellen. This is Dr. Brighton Ranger. Kyle Morgan is visiting us in Texas and seems to present with infection. I know he is under your care. Can you tell me what antibiotic he was given and if you’re comfortable with me ordering anything with his history? Sure. Happy to hold.”
“You’re being awfully nice today,” I offer.
“Kyle’s a good boy. I’m not overriding his care. If he were an Arabian instead of a Dane, I’d assume more.” She pauses. “Perfect. Thank you.” Another pause where her eyes lift to the woman sitting at the table. “And what weight did you have for him? And that was when? Got it. Thank you. We’ll keep him well until he can get back to you.” She pauses. “Thank you. You too.”
My sister sets down her phone and looks up at Livy. “Were you discharged the same day as Kyle?”
Livy nods.
“Kyle’s not going to like being forced to rest, but that wasn’t minor surgery. And you’re in the same boat, aren’t you?”
Livy’s eyes trip to mine before returning to my sister. “Yes.”
“Doctor’s orders… Kyle needs at least seventy-two more hours of real rest. Not running and playing.” My sister’s voice changes from large and in charge to a manner I’ve rarely seen. “What do you need? You can’t be Wonder Woman this soon after surgery. Did you even fill your prescriptions?”
Livy shakes her head, a tear forming in her bad eye.
Bright extends a hand over Kyle and sets it on Livy’s knee. “Not that I like having experience in this area. I don’t. But, unfortunately, I do. Have experience, that is. And if you’re willing to trust me, I’m begging you to let us help. I can get what Kyle needs. If you’ll call Walgreens here and tell them to transfer your prescriptions, I’ll go grab those too. Don’t make me revoke your Gator privileges.”
That last line sounds like the Brighton I know and love.
Livy smiles through a lone tear drop falling.
My sister lifts off the floor after folding Kyle’s bandage back as much as possible. “I’ll be back. It’ll take me less than two hours. Sit tight, please?”
To me, Brighton says, “Grab Livy an ice pack, would you? Get her set up on the sofa. That right leg needs to be elevated and iced.”
“What am I missing?”
THIRTY-SEVEN
IMPLODES
LAYTON
Brighton walks out the door and cranks the Gator without another word.
“What’s she talking about, Pix? And why is she taking our only mode of transportation?” I grab an ice pack from the freezer and help Livy to the sofa. We’re two kids in a mud puddle again. Or still.
My bad left side. Her disabled right side. Neither of us can stand well. Between the two of us and Kyle, we’re zero for three.
“She’s saying I need more rest, and Kyle does too.”
I sit on the edge of the sofa at her feet and place the wrapped pack on her leg.
She winces and retracts her leg.
