Detours Read Free

later.”
    “No, really, Mary, you should call the police and file an accident report.” Ellis pushed against Mary’s legs with both hands.
    Mary looked intently at Ellis. “Nope. In the game of life, people trump possessions every time.”
    Ellis wondered at the sensation that ripped through her and hoped it wasn’t an indication that she was going to fall into unconsciousness. Mary’s smile reassured her. “Okay, you win.”
    “Now, give me your keys and let’s get you patched up.”
    Ellis fished her keys out of her vest pocket and handed them to Mary. “Here. It’s a burgundy Toyota Tundra.”
    “Good color choice. First we’ll get your ankle fixed, and then we’ll get you some ballerina lessons. Your pink tutu will be a perfect complement to it.”

    ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗

    “At least it’s not broken. I’ve heard that a lot of people need surgery to fix a broken ankle.” Mary perched on the edge of the gurney in DeKalb General Hospital’s emergency room.
    “Forgive me if I don’t leap up and down in euphoria.” Ellis gestured toward her foot and ankle encased in a Velcro-closure bootie. “I need to wear this soft cast and use crutches while the sprain heals.”
    “True, but that beats having plates and screws put in.” Mary patted Ellis’s good leg sympathetically and let her hand linger lightly on Ellis’s thigh. “Is the shot the doctor gave you for pain starting to work?”
    “Must be. I feel like I’ve got anvils on my eyelids.”
    “As soon as the nurse comes back with your discharge papers and the prescription for your meds, I’ll get you out of here so you can lie down and sleep for a while.”
    Ellis tried to stifle a yawn. “She’d better hurry. I’m sinking fast.” She chanced a glance. “I’m sorry you had to waste your whole day.” She wrapped her fingers around the back of Mary’s hand as it rested on her leg. “And I really hate that your first impression of me is that I’m a total klutz.”
    “Actually, my first impression of you was that you’re a nice-looking woman with a good sense of humor and a quick comeback. I thought those Rhonda Korner and Sarah Bellum cracks were pretty funny.” She squeezed Ellis’s hand before withdrawing her own. “So your first impression was okay. And my second impression of you was that you were willing to ask me for a date, and that always boosts someone’s stock with me.”
    Despite her deepening drug-induced stupor, Ellis caught the tinge of a blush creeping up Mary’s neck. “So it wasn’t until the third impression that you figured out I’m a stumblebum, huh?”
    Mary tugged at the edge of the sheet on the gurney and looked anywhere except at Ellis when she said. “I prefer to think of it as a case of you falling for me.”
    Before Ellis could respond, the ER nurse bustled into the enclosure, carrying a sheaf of papers and pushing a wheelchair with a pair of crutches braced between the footplate and the back of the chair.
    “Okay, let’s go over your home care instructions.” She handed Ellis a list of dos and don’ts for her badly sprained ankle. “Biggest thing is to keep it elevated as much as possible for the first forty-eight hours. You need to ice it several times a day, but no more than twenty minutes at a time. The soft cast will keep it immobilized and provide compression. Only take the cast off when you ice it and when you bathe.” The nurse pointed to the last item on the list. “See this? It says, ‘REST, REST, REST.’ It’s in capital letters and repeated three times for a reason. If you want this ankle to heal, stay off it.”
    “But—” Ellis said.
    “No buts. I mean it. Today, tomorrow, Monday, you park yourself somewhere and let”—the nurse cast a look toward Mary—“your girlfriend wait on you. Rest, rest, rest.”
    She tapped her index finger on the sheet of paper she was holding and addressed Mary. “Make her take baths for the next week or ten days, but be sure she keeps that