Read Between the Lines

Read Between the Lines Read Free Page A

Book: Read Between the Lines Read Free
Author: Jo Knowles
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to her nursing shoes creak under her weight as she makes her way back to the stool. The air in the cushion empties out in a quiet whistle-breath when she sits back down. She starts to hum the tune to “It’s a Small World.” She probably takes her family to Disney World every year. That’s probably where they took that picture. That’s probably why they all look so happy.
    I concentrate on my pulsing finger, almost throbbing to the rhythm of the song. I sing it in my head as Mrs. O’Connor hums.
    I find that song kind of depressing, to tell the truth. People like Mrs. O’Connor’s kids get the laughter and hope part of the world; people like me get the rest: tears and fear.
    Womp-womp-womp.
    I close my eyes and pretend the invisible trick works.
    After a while Mrs. O’Connor peeks her head around the curtain to check on me. “How’re you doing?” she asks.
    I lift the ice pack off and look. The swelling is about the same, but my finger seems to be getting more purple.
    “Ooh. That’s not good,” she says, stepping closer to inspect.
    “Does that mean I broke it?”
    “Maybe. I better call your dad back. I really think you need to have it X-rayed.”
    I look up at the ceiling and sigh. She pats my knee. “It’ll be OK,” she says.
    But I don’t know what she means by
it.
    She goes to make the call. It takes about two seconds to figure out that my dad is not happy.
    “Well, it does look pretty bad,” Mrs. O’Connor says quietly. Pause. “Yes, I really think he needs to have an X-ray. [Pause.] No, I can’t tell just by looking. But I’ve seen a lot of broken fingers over the years, sir.” Her voice gets louder. “No, I’m not a doctor. [Pause.] All right. Yes. He’ll be here. We’ll see you soon.”
    I brace myself for the look on her face when she pulls the curtain back again.
    “He’s such a dick,” I tell her, surprising myself with my choice of words. “Sorry.”
    “I don’t like that talk,” she says. But she pats my knee again and smiles. Code for
But, yes. He really is.
    I lean my head back against the hard wall and close my eyes again.
    Here is my fantasy:
    I’m sitting with my dad in the waiting room at the hospital. It’s full of people moaning about whatever pain it is that brought them there. My father will appear physically uncomfortable having to be near so many people, especially people who are “bellyaching.” I will enjoy watching him squirm. A hot nurse walks into the room. She’s holding a clipboard. She scans the list on it and calls out, “Nathan Granger?” My father and I will both stand up at the same time because my name is the one and only thing we share. But the nurse will check
me
out, not my dad. She’ll smile and give me a sexy look and say, “Come with me,” in this really suggestive way, and I will smile back at her and then give my father a very fake-sorry face. The hot nurse and I will disappear down the hall together, leaving my father alone with all the drug addicts and runny-nose coughing little kids. Instead of taking me to some tiny little cubicle with curtains for walls, the nurse will take me to a supply closet. She’ll tell me how hot I am and start to undress and say how she wants to be the one I lose my virginity to and how she’s going to make sure I never forget my first time and . . .
    Mrs. O’Connor starts humming “It’s a Small World” again.
    I shift uncomfortably on the squeaky bed and try to think other thoughts before she sees what else is suddenly swollen.
    Oh, God.
    I concentrate on the pain in my finger instead. The paper crinkles under me. Then I hear a click on the other side of the curtain. It’s the sound of the office door opening.
    “Well, hello, Claire. How are you doing, honey?”
    The curtain is closed so I can’t see who’s on the other side, but I only know one Claire. Claire Harris. And she is even better than my fantastical hot nurse.
    “Hi, Mrs. O’Connor,” she says.
    “How can I help you,

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