Hate You Not

I’m too lost to track Shawn’s answer. Burke keeps pulling my hair, and I’m panting with relief each time. I can feel my heartbeats in my ankle. Then the car turns sharply. I feel either my leg or Burke’s arm, where it’s propped up, shaking. Then we bounce a little, and I groan. Shawn says, “Sorry, Buggie.”

His phone rings? I don’t know. It hurts so bad I’m just delirious. Burke and Shawn are talking, and I’m gritting my teeth. Burke is reassuring him. I don’t know why.

“Are we here?” I’m pretty sure the car’s stopped moving.

The door opens. I know because I feel a breeze. Someone touches my good leg. Must be Shawn, because he’s by me as I hear him say, “Hey June Bug, listen. I’ve gotta go for just a little bit. Mary Helen called and said Hot Rocket’s got an injury. She’s tried to talk to Dr. Smithson, but you know how she is on shit like that. I want to check it out myself.”

My heart stops. “What?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t tell me. Probably so I wouldn’t tell you. I’ll call, okay? In just a little bit.”

“I’ve got you,” Burke says in a low voice. “I can get you shuffled through the ER, help you get this foot fixed, get you back home.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Shawn says. “MH has the kids and says they’re doing just fine. Eating ice cream sundaes.”

“Okay,” I manage.

Then we’re out of the car and Burke is carrying me. I’m crying because the lights are bright and Hottie is hurt, and I’m afraid I’m going to get sick.

The smell here reminds me of Mama’s chemo appointments. All my senses blur together. Talking, beeping, other people speaking in tense tones, and then Burke leaning back, maybe against a wall, so I’m cradled more snugly up against him.

“It’s okay, baby. Don’t be mad at me for saying baby. You hurt yourself, someone should call you baby. That’s the rule there.”

I smile, somehow, and think: bring back the real Burke. But I’m too tired and cold to say it out loud. Sometime later, I hear: “LAWLER,” and he’s walking again. There’s a woman talking to him.

“I’m just going to lay you down,” he murmurs to me. Then he does, and the movement hurts so bad I see black spots swimming in front of a pale green curtain. I’ve never felt so bad as when the nurse is messing with me.

“Painkillers?” I manage.

“Just a minute, darlin’. We just need to check on one more thing.”

Hands in my hair…gentle.

“I like when you pull it,” my voice says without me. I feel like I’m floating.

“I can do that again. But I’d rather play with it.”

“You’re gonna feel a little jab,” a woman’s voice says—and I do. “There now. We’ll get her back to X-ray pretty quickly at the look of this. This looks like a nasty one.”

Then it all goes good and soft and warm.***It’s such a weird dream. Burke is with me, and it’s like we’re friends…or lovers. He’s feeding me little, round pieces of ice with a spoon, and I’m grinning, and he’s grinning back. He rubs my hair, and my eyes close. I say, “I like that.”

He smiles, and I think he looks sad. I don’t know why. I smile to tell him it’s okay, and someone pulls the curtains down.***“C’mon, Sleeping Beauty.” I lift my eyelids open and blink until the blurriness congeals into…the inside of a car?

“We’ve just got to get inside here. Then we can go home.”

I shut my eyes, and warm hands squeeze my shoulders. “Can you open your eyes, June? Just for a second?”

Ugh. I do it, and he’s right in front of me. Burke.

“What are you doing?” I ask—or I try to. Everything sounds like it’s underwater.

“I’m going to drive you home. Do you remember where we are?”

I look around. “Outside,” I whisper. Outside at night.

“They set your ankle. We’re leaving the hospital now.”

I look down at myself, at the boot on my foot. Then I shiver because…it’s shivery out here.

“Okay. Here’s what I think—I’m just gonna get you.”

He pushes the wheelchair back, leans down near me, and then I’m being lifted in his arms. My foot gives a throb, and my stomach feels a little seasick. I smell something good and smile to myself.

His hand, on my shoulder. His eyes and his concerned face.

“You smell good,” I whisper.

“You think so?”

“Yeah.” I giggle. “Like a man. And Satan,” I add, but he’s not there anymore. He’s climbing into the car. He’s driving.

“I am fucked up.” I laugh because it’s crazy what those ER folks will do for you.

Burke’s voice comes, seeming disembodied because my eyes are too heavy to open. “When they were setting it, you weren’t having an easy time. I made them keep trying stuff until you weren’t feeling it so much.”