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11
BRYSON
On a Monday approximately one week after the Independence Day weekend, two things of opposing merit happen to me.Chronologically speaking, the event that happens first is the shitty one.
It’s mid-morning and I’m at a site near the docks in Red Hook, of all places.We’re fixing the concrete barriers around a crumbling strip of access road – not the most inspired project, but the docks are pretty interesting to watch from a bit of a distance.Since it's mid-July, the heat is starting to rise from the pavement; I can already feel the sweat accruing in the middle of my back and am grateful my work shirt is dark in color, or else I’d have to wear my safety vest on the train home to hide the stains on my shirt.
The stupid thing: I’m paying attention when the accident happens.I may be doing a little musing – there’s a good fish market nearby I’ve been to before, and I figure if I’m done early enough today to snag something half-decent on the way home.I can make fish tacos for dinner – but it’s no more daydreaming than usual.I’m focused on hauling away the stray smaller blocks of crumbling concrete that our larger equipment left behind, using my big hands and a reinforced wheelbarrow to grab and clear off the sheared pieces – and then it happens.
There isn’t supposed to be anything in this path, but someone has obviously neglected to clear away all the old rebar, because my work boot snags on a forgotten piece of the metal and I go crashing to the ground.My grip on the wheelbarrow doesn’t release in time, it follows me to the pavement, and a hundred pounds of broken concrete pieces slam into my bicep.It’s really terrible, because I’m actually pretty intense about safety on the work site, and I’ve never been injured before.
I get sent to the hospital in a cab.
Really, it’s kind of an overreaction.My arm is bruised, and I get a few stitches near my elbow, but the scans are clear up there.Which is nothing: I’ve broken many bones in my life, including one time shattering my wrist trying to jump off Quinn’s roof on a dare, and I know I could go back to work right away if it were just my arm.
My toes and feet are fine, thanks to steel-toed boots – this is why everyone is so up in arms about PPE, I want to shout – but the real problem is according to the doctor, I have a hairline fracture on my ankle.So, work is out for at least a few weeks, depending on how I feel and how healing is going.I have to fill out about a thousand reports for worker’s compensation, all of which are infuriatingly annoying, then I get a big plastic boot to immobilize my leg, some painkillers, a pair of too-short crutches, and a cab home.
The hospital takes forever, so by the time I get dropped off in front of my building, it’s well past lunchtime.I decide I’m not willing to cook anything, so I haul my big plastic boot and my shitty crutches halfway up the block to the corner deli.I get a half of a giant lumberjack sandwich, shove it into the ankle of the work boot I’m also lugging around, then struggle my way back home and up to the apartment.
Then, the second thing happens.This one is, objectively speaking, better.
Once I step in front of the door, I can hear music playing and immediately recognize, “Dancing in the Dark.”Carleigh must be working on school stuff at home today instead of the library, though usually when she’s working she demands absolute silence, so I’m a little surprised to hear the music.But hey, whatever works for her.I put my keys in the door and hobble inside.
I’m not delicate about it at all – not that I usually am, even without crutches and a boot – but the music is pretty loud, so Carleigh doesn’t hear me right away.Which suits me fine, because when I walk in, my roommate is in our small kitchen in front of a squared-off sheet of pastry dough, wearing a fitted white sundress with little blue flowers printed on it, wet hair tied up in a knot on her head, barefoot.And she’s dancing.
At the moment, I can’t decide whether to be focused on how completely adorable it is or on how beautiful she looks.I did manage to convince her to come to New Jersey for July 4thand she seemed to have a good time, despite my total inability to keep my hands off of her, which I vow to try to control; just because she’s polite about it doesn’t mean it’s welcomed.
Carleigh’s been so stressed lately, with this marathon she’s decided to run, and with what I gather are issues with her grad program, and I’m really happy to see her dancing around with a little smile on her face.
It doesn’t last long.Carleigh turns slightly in my direction just as I’m setting my work boot-and-sandwich combo on the ground and shrieks when she notices she’s not alone.
“Bryson, god, make a little noise,” she breathes, one hand flying to her chest.Carleigh pulls her phone toward her, taps a couple of keys, and the music turns off.
“No one’s ever had to tell me that before,” I joke, flashing my best grin.“Sorry to interrupt, Murphy, it looked like a good party.”
“Ha ha.”Carleigh folds her arms.“I was just celebrating a little, I – oh my god, what happened?”
I hobble a little more clearly into her view and look around for a stool.I want to get this other work boot off already.“It’s nothing, Carleigh, don’t worry.”
She’s at my side a second later with one of the kitchen chairs.I sink into it and lean over to untie my shoe, but Carleigh swats at my hand and crouches in front of me.“I got it.”
“Carleigh, no,” I wince, very aware of the fact that my feet are going to smell.My first order of business probably actually should be having a shower – thankfully, this plastic boot comes off, and as long as I’m good to my ankle, I should be able to do all of that normally – and the last thing that I want is for Carleigh to get a full whiff of the mid-July construction scent.
She’s more stubborn than I count on, though, and she begins to unlace my shoe anyway.To her credit, if it does stink, she doesn’t let on – though when she sets the work boot aside, she does make a face at the sandwich that’s sticking out of the matching one.“Is this your lunch?”she asks, picking it up by two fingers like it’s made of fire.
I shrug.“Bought it on the corner.Mine got left at work when I got sent to the hospital, and I figured I was too lazy to whip up anything good here.”
Carleigh shakes her head, then stands up and sets it on the counter.“So, what happened?”
“Tripped over some rebar,” I answer.“Fell down and bunch of concrete came down with me.A couple of stitches on my arm, and it’s sore, it’s fine.My ankle’s got a hairline fracture, though, so I’m off work ‘til that heals.”
“Oh no!”Carleigh bites her lip.“With worker’s comp, I hope?”
I nod.“Yeah, should be.I had to fill out about a million forms.”
I stand up, waving her away when she moves to help me.“I can walk, Carleigh, I’m just supposed to keep off it for the most part.”
“Then let me help you!Lean on my shoulder.”
