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A Leap of Faith (Imogen)
Closing my classroom door, I smile at a colleague hanging students' artwork in the hall. We are both too tired to say much, so instead I wave, she lifts her chin in silent acknowledgment. I’m exhausted. There is one more day of classes before the Christmas holidays. Glancing at my phone, I send off a quick text before exiting the building and heading to the subway.
It’s rush hour in Manhattan, but luckily I only have two stops to get to the Upper East Side. My best friend Kate shattered her elbow last night, and her mom, Ellen, has been texting me non-stop. We were supposed to catch up this evening over sushi.
Reaching the post-war building, I step into the elevator and push seven. Thankfully, I’m alone. I need a moment to gather my thoughts. I can tell from the texting that the injury is bad.
As I ring the doorbell, I brace myself and wait. Nothing.
I ring it again. This time, I hear footsteps. Ellen swings the door open. I narrow my eyes and take in her disheveled state. Her hair is messy, and she is wearing an apron over her pajamas. She is normally well put together with a cute cardigan set, bright red lipstick, and slim-fitting pants. But not today.
“Are you okay?” I keep my voice calm and steady.
Ellen shakes her head. “No. I can’t find a good orthopedist, and Kate is in terrible pain. She can’t move her arm. I’m trying to make her favorite foods, but she insists she can’t eat.”
I take a deep breath. “Where is she?”
Ellen points down the hallway to the living area. “She is resting on the sofa.”
I slow my steps as she comes into view. Kate is lying on her side with her bandaged arm on several pillows. A melting ice pack and some painkillers are on the coffee table.
“Hey. Are you okay, Kate?”
She doesn’t open her eyes. “No, I’m fucked.”
“Language, Kate,” Ellen calls from the kitchen.
Kate opens her eyes and whispers, “She is driving me insane.”
I perch on a leather ottoman near her. “Okay. Your mom said you fell last night while ice skating at Rockefeller Plaza. Your elbow is broken, and you need surgery.”
She nods as tears slip down her cheeks. “It’s so painful. They will have to put pins and such in it to stabilize the joint and remove the bone fragments. I’m twenty-nine years old. I shouldn’t have fragile bones.”
I lean closer. “Do you have fragile bones?”
Kate’s eyes get larger. “One slip on the ice, and my elbow shattered into tiny fragments. What do you think?”
I cover my mouth. “I’m sorry, Kate. It’s such a freak accident.”
She slowly reaches for the box of tissues. I hand her the box. It’s hard to see her incapacitated. She has always been athletic, a force of nature. I watch as she soaks up her tears.
Sniffling, she says, “I’m due on assignment in London. I don’t have time for surgery and physical therapy. The doctor said I won’t return to work for weeks.”
I shrug. “I know it’s hard, Kate. Things happen. Your company will find someone to cover you. Not someone as good as you, but someone.”
She stares at me. “It’s not that easy. I convinced my boss that we should launch a side business, Bespoke Events. The idea was to offer small events in fascinating places. I’m supposed to organize a holiday-themed wedding on the outskirts of London this weekend.”
I lift my shoulders. “Who would get married on Christmas?”
Kate closes her eyes. “An older, sentimental woman who has too much money.”
Most people would want to avoid getting married on a major holiday. But maybe the woman is thinking of making the wedding small and intimate with only close friends and family. The decorations would be lovely. Evergreens and white lights with a pop of red or gold ribbons.
Ellen breezes into the room and hands me a cup of coffee with cream and sugar. “This is how you like it. Two sugars and lots of cream?”
I nod. I love that she remembers. “Yes, thank you.” I take a sip.
