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“I hope she turns out to be the girl of your dreams.” I give her a warm smile.
“Thanks.” She looks at the floor but smiles when she lifts her gaze.
We get back to work and finish caring for the animals before we move on to answering emails, then back to feeding time. That’s what I love about my job. It’s a bit of everything and a lot of caring for others.
CHAPTER6
MALLORY
I’veno choice but to make the long-distance call to my boss. I pick up my mobile and hit dial on the office’s number.
“Good morning. You’re through to Level Up. I’m Candice. How may I help?”
“Hi, Candice, it’s Mallory. Can you patch me through to Eve? I need to speak with her,” I say.
“Sure thing, Mal. I hope you enjoyed Pride.”
“It wasn’t too bad,” I say, not wanting to repeat my bad news.
“Good. Please hold the line.”
I bite my nail, waiting for Eve to answer the phone. It’s early in America, but she’s usually in the office by now.
“Mallory, so nice for you to check in. Candice says you want to speak with me. Is there a problem with your travel or something?”
“Or something,” I mumble. “There was an accident while I was at Pride.” I pause, waiting for a response before I break the bad news.
“What kind of accident?”
“I fell off the stage in the karaoke bar.” I cringe, glad she can’t see me.
“Okay, so you need a few days off?” She sounds concerned.
“I have a pot on my leg for the next six weeks, and then I’ll need physio.” I fight back tears, thinking about what the surgeon said. My mobility might never be what it was, but I’m determined to overcome my injury.
“Oh my. I hope someone is taking care of you. How are you coping?”
Water leaks from my eye. It was irrational to think I’d be fired, but I’m relieved to hear her concern. “I’m still in England and my friend is looking after me. I’m pretty immobile at the moment.”
“But your fingers still work, right? Feel free to update your column, email me any articles you think will be good for the magazine, and promote a positive mind. Write about what happens when your fitness has to take a break or extend your details on Utah. The choice is yours. I’ll get Candice to call the company that arranged the volcano boarding and we’ll reschedule once you’re home.”
I feel better hearing her words. “Thank you. This means a lot.” The tears run freely from my eyes, and I wipe them away.
“Look after yourself, Mal, and I look forward to an update.”
“Thank you. Goodbye.”
“Take care.”
We hang up, and I let out a sob. My boss has been understanding about my injury and my trip to Nicaragua has been postponed. That’s the best news. Plus, I can still run my column and maybe get a feature piece in the glossy magazine. I just need to map out a plan. I update my blog and add some pictures of me resting. Using my time to show how a fitness fanatic rests will be good for my mental health. It’s too upsetting for me to pretend to extend my trip. I scroll through the supportive messages, glad everyone is willing to wait for me. Once I’ve replied to a few, I turn off my laptop and stare at the ceiling. The high I felt from talking to my boss dwindles. What now? One thing I know is this is going to be a long day, week, month. I let out a huff, hoping I can live up to my blog optimism and show people I can enjoy life without extreme sports for the short term.
After spending way too long feeling sorry for myself, I assess my surroundings. I can get out of this bed, I just need to be careful if I venture down the stairs. With my crutches, I struggle to the top of the stairs. The bottom looks further away than before. This is a bad idea. I make my way back into the bedroom and sit on the bed. There’s a throb in my hands. It’s going to take time to get used to the crutches.
I look around the flowery room. Lara has rose print on her bed and curtains. There are fake flowers on the dresser, and even framed pictures of them on the wall. The extra pillows on the bed are comfy enough, but overall, I imagine this is the sort of room an older person would like. It’s just so Mary Sue. No one is this perfect. I knock one of the small pillows onto the floor, feeling better for making a mess.
Nice girls like Lara don’t usually hide dark secrets, but if I’m going to survive the day, I need to find her dirty magazine stash or whatever gives her a darker side. She can’t be a complete saint, even if I tease her by telling her that’s what I think.
Moving around the room isn’t easy, and I almost fall over the pillow I threw on the floor. Slowly, with crutches, I navigate the room. I start by snooping in her closet, which is full of boring dresses. Using the door, I lower myself down to sit on a small footstool. There’s no loose floorboard or lock box. In fact, she’s so neat there’s not even a jumper that’s fallen down the back or an old hideous T-shirt screwed up.Well, that’s disappointing.
