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“Well, this is a pleasant follow-up to yesterday.” He smiled ruefully. Blushing, I felt the warmth of the blood flutter through my cheeks. We pulled onto the main road and the women paramedic came into the back of the ambulance cab.
“So, what hurts?” While she poked and prodded at my wounds, I looked over and saw him on his phone. Then there was his beautiful hushed voice,
“Student Services please. Yes, good morning. This is Hayzen Scott. I’m calling on account of Sarah Peyton and myself not arriving this morning to school. Unfortunately, there was an accident and we’re on our way to the hospital now. Neither of us will be returning to school today, and most likely the remainder of the week as well. Thank you.” And he shut the phone with one hand.
The woman prodded at me a few more seconds, and jotted something quickly on her clipboard full of medical claims and such.
“We need to close this now. I’m going to be back in a second to prep you for stitches.” She said, referring to the still gushing opening in my head. Suddenly, I felt all too light headed. Once the woman was back up front I turned to him.
“Hayzen… I like your name.”
“Thanks.” He replied, looking at his hands with a crooked smile, slightly embarrassed.
“By the way, about your phone call, I couldn’t help but overhear… The remainder of the week, really, you think? Am I that bad?”
He looked at me apologetically, “Honestly, by the looks of things now, yeah; you do. But we’ll see once they get you to the hospital and they give you the okay.”
“And why won’t you be at school? You’re not hurt right?” I wouldn’t ever be able to forgive myself for injuring him in any way, but he seemed okay…
“No, I’m not hurt, I just-“ and right on cue, cutting him off before he could answer me the paramedic was back.
“Alright hun, here’s a local anesthetic.” I felt a slight pinch and then the numbness trickled through half my forehead. She reached to her left and set the syringe down, picking up a shiny, curved needle, a long black thread trailing from it. Anxiety hit me like a brink wave. One of my biggest fears – needles. Ever since I was a child I always had to hold someone’s hand through any sort of needle use at the doctor’s office. I don’t know why it didn’t hit me when I’d gotten the shot, but I suddenly needed something to hold – desperately. Out of my subconscious I suppose, I grabbed Hayzen’s hand, the first thing lying nearest I saw. Realizing what I was holding – embarrassed – I immediately let go. He must have felt my panic over the needle because he slowly reached back over and grasp my hand in his. Our fingers entwined and he gently rubbed the back of my hand with his index finger, sending tingles up my arm.
It had to be one of the most soothing things I’d ever experienced. The rhythm of his fingers gently gliding against my skin, almost made me forget I had a needle threading in and out of my flesh. I must have fallen asleep because I awoke as the ambulance pulled into the enormous hospital parking lot. I looked over and Hayzen was looking out the dimly fogged back windows, completely lost in deep thought, an unreadable expression clouded his breath-taking face. I looked down and noticed his hand gently set upon my thigh on the blankets. I must have attempted to make some sort of facial expression because I suddenly felt the tight pain across my head. I winced quietly, but immediately Hayzen looked over concerned.
“Anesthetic wearing off?”
“Must be.” I sighed.
“Well, we’re finally here, so as soon as you get checked out you can get some more rest.”
The car stopped and a new man jerked open the back doors and the cool, still morning air gave me goose bumps. Another man came around the side and helped the other unload my stretcher. About now was the first time I really felt the pain of the wounds id encountered beside my gash. It hurt to move my left arm and to breathe at all for that matter. The men wheeled me into a small room, where a woman came over and did more prodding, and two x-rays. I noticed Hayzen wasn’t with me. Where had my savior gone? About a half hour later a doctor came in and displayed the final diagnosis. I had three cracked ribs and a broken collarbone. Much to my disbelief, hearing the words out loud actually made the pain worse, they echoed around in my mind. The staff gave me a sling for my left arm and pain medication since there wasn’t much they could do for my ribs. I was told to come back in four weeks to get the stitches out and my bones looked at to make sure they were healing correctly. I was eligible to leave within less than three hours. I got up, still a little on the woozy side, and stumbled to the door of my room.
I tripped a little right outside the doorframe just in time for two beautifully pale arms to reach out and catch me. Guess who? Yep, it was him. He let out a short laugh and steadied me.
“Let me help.” He slung my good arm around his neck and his hand followed my back, down to my waist where he pressed me to his side, supporting most of my weight as we walked.
“Thanks… for everything.”
“Don’t thank me,” He said. “What else could I have done? You smashed into a tree outside the front of my house. I sure as hell wasn’t just going to ignore it like a new lawn ornament or something.” We reached the cold, silver elevators and he pressed the button showing an arrow representing the down button. The doors slide open and we walked in, they close quickly and we dropped to the first floor. “I’m just glad you’re going to be okay.” For some reason, hearing that sentence, so simple in his husky velvet voice sent butterflies fluttering through my veins. We walked to his car, a black Volvo, and he set me – carefully, as to make sure not to hit any of my injuries – in the passenger seat. I faintly smiled up at him and mouthed ‘Thanks’ as he shut the door.
I watched him walk around the front of the car; I was almost mesmerized by him. All I thought was – Thank god I’m not the one driving this time…- He climbed in the driver’s seat and the car purred as he turned the key in the ignition. Switchfoot flowed quietly from the speakers and the heat started, automatically making a comfortable atmosphere. When he stopped to let a car pull out of a parking space, he turned to look at me.
“Do you maybe want to stop and grab something to eat? It’s about an hours drive back to my house.”
“Maybe just some water. I’m not sure I’m quite ready for food, still pretty shook up.”
“Sounds good.” He pulled out of the parking lot with ease. Soon we were on the freeway. There wasn’t much conversation, but there wasn’t really a need for it. I didn’t mind the quiet, and he didn’t seem to either, the way he was kind of caught up in his own mind. Then out of nowhere, his eyes not even leaving the road, surprising me, he slowly grabbed my hand, our fingers entwined, and my heart fluttered again.