Light Years (23 page)

It didn’t always come, this out-of-body experience. I could never predict when it would. It was harder in the cold. With the metallic taste of blood in the back of my throat, my thighs itching with cold, my hands numb inside the gloves, it was much harder to leave all that behind.

Payton thought I was an idiot to run at night in the middle of winter. She told me so repeatedly. I wasn’t an idiot. Just crazy and running to stay sane.

It was mid-February, and by now I felt I had the hang of cold-weather running. I ran without thinking about my stride, without thinking about my breathing. At ten degrees above freezing, it was downright balmy considering the past few weeks. There weren’t many cars. I wasn’t thinking about being careful, about watching my step. Arrogant and stupid.

I was thinking about Israel, about roasted eggplants and nearly burned pitas and a hundred other memories of warm sunshine and savory foods. Trying to decide if I should go home this summer or find a job in Charlottesville. Trying to decide what I could say to Adam to make him change his mind. Trying to understand why my father wasn’t fighting him tooth and nail.
Ima
would be on my side. How could she not be?

I never noticed the small cluster of dried leaves on the curb. My foot skidded out. The momentum from the run and the slight twist of the turn pushed me into the street.

I slipped off the sidewalk and my ankle buckled from under me. I heard a distinct “pop” before falling heavily on my side and sprawling in the middle of the street.

I lay there for a moment, stunned. No pain yet, but a sick feeling in my stomach that it would come soon.

Shit.

I tried to sit up, and a wave of pain hit me so hard it made me nauseated.

“Fuck,” I gasped out loud, upgrading my original assessment of the situation.

I had to get out of the road. I gingerly sat up and scooted over to the curb. The pain made me break out in a cold sweat. My ankle bumped up against the concrete and I could almost see colors in the wave of pain that rocked through me. My hip was sore from breaking my fall, and my elbow burned. The pavement had ripped through the sweatshirt. I was not surprised to see blood. I waited to catch my breath before daring to look at my ankle. It looked okay, not tilted at a crazy angle. No bones poking out of the skin. Good. But the longer I sat there, the more the pain grew.

“
L’Azazel,
” I cursed in Hebrew. “
Kibinimat!
”

I don’t know how long I sat on the curb before I saw car lights coming. I raised my head and watched it drive up, slow down, and stop in front of me.

The passenger-side window rolled down.

“Maya?” I heard. “Is that you? Are you okay?”

“No,” I said. “I think my ankle is broken.”

The driver-side door opened, and I watched someone get
out and walk toward me. The headlights were shining in my eyes and I couldn’t see who it was.

He squatted in front of me.

“Jesus, Maya,” Justin said, lightly touching the side of my face. I flinched. “What happened?”

“I fell.”

“You’re bleeding.”

That explained why my face hurt too.

“I heard something pop,” I said. Goose bumps crawled up my arms at the memory of that sound. “I think I need a doctor.”

“Yeah,” Justin said. “You do.”

That’s when I started to cry.

“Hey, now,” he said. “Easy. We’ll get you to the hospital, you’ll be fine.” His voice was calm and steady, but I could hear the fear behind it, and the fact that he was taking this so seriously made me realize what a mess I was in. “Can you stand?”

“No.” I tried to stop crying. My chin wobbled with the effort.

He slipped one arm under my knees and the other around my back. He stood up, lifting me in one smooth motion. I held on to his neck and my tears left a damp smear on his sweater. As he placed me in the car, my ankle bumped against the door. I tried not to scream.

“You’re doing great,” he said.

“I’m fine,” I lied. “I’m just glad you found me.” Which was probably the truest thing I’d ever said.

He got in the car and put it in gear. I could feel him looking at me.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he said when I closed my eyes. “I don’t think you should fall asleep.”

“I don’t have a concussion. My hip broke most of the fall.”

“Don’t say ‘broke’ and ‘hip’ in the same sentence, okay?” I almost giggled. “How the hell did you do this to yourself?” He almost sounded mad.

“I slipped,” I said. “Gravity took over. You know, momentum. Inertia. Newton’s Laws.”

“Very funny.”

“I didn’t think so at the time. I still don’t.”

Justin pulled up at the emergency-room entrance and left me in the idling car. He came back minutes later with a nurse and a wheelchair.

The two of them eased me out of the car and into the wheelchair. I was off, wheeling along into the fluorescent lights of the emergency room, shaky again in the aftermath of being moved. Keeping my whole leg still, that was clearly the answer. Moving was bad. I decided I was not getting out of that wheelchair. Ever.

“I’ll be right back,” Justin said, squeezing my hand. “I have a buddy in ortho who works here. I’m going to go find him.”

The nurse handed me a clipboard and I started filling in my information. Address. Allergies. Medication. Insurance. I didn’t have any ID on me. Only the key to my room. I managed to borrow a phone. I called Payton and left a message on our machine asking her to come by the hospital with my backpack.

Half an hour went by. I was promised some X-rays.
Another half hour went by and I was wheeled to another room. The X-rays were taken and I was wheeled back out to the waiting room. I was still waiting for Justin to come back. Where was Payton? It was a weeknight, for heaven’s sake—what was she doing out so late?

We were a sad, quiet group in the waiting room, sorry beings waiting to be helped at ten at night. There were at least two moms with kids bundled up in blankets and coughing miserably. I eyed an elderly man in the corner who didn’t seem to have an obvious problem and a man in his late thirties cradling his right arm.

My battered face drew some looks, and I wondered if Justin would get questioned. Man brings in bruised and bleeding woman, claiming she fell. Classic story, right? I didn’t know whether to be concerned or amused that bringing me in might land him in a spot of trouble.

Payton arrived with my backpack.

“Oh my God,” she gasped. She kneeled by the wheelchair and touched my hair lightly.

“That bad?” I said, trying to be funny.

“You look a lot worse than you sounded on the phone.”

“I haven’t seen a mirror. I guess they don’t keep one around here on purpose.”

“Oh, Maya, I didn’t mean it like that.” Her hands fluttered helplessly and then settled down at her sides. I could tell she wanted to hug me, but all things considered it was probably best if she didn’t. Everything hurt, even my skin. “What happened?”

I shrugged, then winced. “I was running and I fell and something went pop.” I still couldn’t get over the fact I heard my own bone snapping. “My ankle’s broken, I think. Then Justin drove by and he saw me. He brought me here.”

“And then he left you?” Payton’s voice rose in alarm.

“No, no. He went to find some doctor he knows.” I looked over at the hallway I’d last seen him walk down. “I don’t know where he is, though. It’s been a while since he left.”

“Oh.” Then she opened her mouth and I braced myself for what I saw coming. “I told you it was dangerous to go running alone. What if Justin hadn’t come by?”

“I’m lucky he did.”

“Jesus, Maya!” She noticed my face and her anger deflated. “Oh, listen to me, yelling at you in a hospital. I’m sorry. Do you need me to call anyone? Your parents?”

“No, don’t do that. Let me wait until I see a doctor and find out what’s wrong before I talk to them.”

“But your dad’s a doctor, he might be able to help.”

“Payton,” I said. “My dad’s an optometrist. I broke my ankle. I don’t see how he could help.”

“You’re right. Absolutely. Okay. What can I get you? Do you want some Tylenol? I’ve got some in my purse. Or something to drink? A soda?”

“No, I’m fine.” I didn’t feel fine, but Payton was starting to panic. “Why don’t you go look for Justin? I haven’t seen him since we got here. He said his friend was in ortho—maybe you could ask someone where that is.”

“Okay, sure. I’ll find him and bring him back.” She turned
to leave, then returned to me again. “Are you sure you’ll be okay alone?”

“Pay, I’m in a hospital.”

“Right. Okay. I’ll go find Justin.”

“Great. Thanks.”

While Justin was gone tracking down his elusive friend and Payton was gone tracking down Justin, I sat alone, surrounded by strangers, in pain. I should have been scared. But I was actually calm and felt somewhat detached from the moment. I wasn’t going to be able to run away from this.

I was thinking that this was a funny way to be feeling, and that maybe I had hit my head harder than I thought, when a nurse escorted Yami to one of the empty chairs.

“Please remain seated,” the nurse said. “A doctor will be with you shortly.”

Yami nodded mutely and slumped uneasily in the bucket seat.

I wondered if I should say something. But I was too far away to get her attention without yelling. I debated whether she wanted to be left alone. Maybe she wouldn’t appreciate seeing me. But she looked forlorn and scared. With a bit of difficulty and a few bolts of pain from my hip and elbow, I managed to get the chair moving and inched up to her.

Yami looked up as I wheeled near her. She sat up and several emotions flashed across her face before settling into lines of concern.

“What happened to you?”

“I fell.”

“Out of your dorm room?” The horror on her face startled a laugh out of me.

“No. I’d look a hell of a lot worse than this if I did that. I fell while running. I think I broke something. What’s your story?”

She looked away and I wondered if I wasn’t supposed to ask.

“I couldn’t breathe.” She touched her throat. “I was just lying there in bed and I felt like someone was pressing a pillow to my face. Like in those stupid murder mysteries. It just wouldn’t go away. Maybe I’m having an asthma attack or a heart attack.”

“Did you come here alone?”

“I called a taxi.”

“Do you want me to call someone to come get you after the doctor sees you?” It upset me to think of her in fear of her life, coming here alone, waiting to be seen alone, going back to an empty house. Alone.

“Don’t bother,” she said. “I’m probably fine. It’s no big deal.”

“Two of my friends are here. One of them could take you home. Maybe you shouldn’t be home alone tonight.”

“Don’t bother,” she said again. “I’m fine.”

Then Justin came in, smiling, leading a tired resident who looked like he’d just been pulled out of bed. Which, as it turned out, is exactly what had happened. Payton was a few steps behind them, smiling tentatively.

“Time to see the good doctor,” Justin said. He grabbed my wheelchair and started wheeling me out of the waiting room.

“Wait, what’s your cell-phone number?” I made him write
it down and handed it to Yami. “Good luck. Call if you need help getting home.”

She took the number and nodded, but I could tell she wasn’t going to call.

“Who was that?” Justin asked as we left the waiting room.

“That’s the woman who cleans our dorm,” Payton said, looking over her shoulder at Yami. “She doesn’t look so good.”

“She might need help getting home,” I said.

“Let’s deal with getting you home for now,” Justin said, wheeling me toward a long hallway.

“Okay,” I said. I was suddenly nervous with a doctor nearby. “Let’s get this over with.”

It was very late by the time Justin and Pay were helping me up the stairs to my dorm room.

“This is going to be fun,” I said. “Two flights of stairs on crutches for the next four weeks.”

“As Confucius says—a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

I rolled my eyes at Justin’s weak attempt at humor.

“You’re stronger than you think,” Payton said, her new personal mantra. “You can do this.”

They each held one of my crutches and had an arm around my waist. My left arm was over Justin’s shoulder and my right was over Payton’s, and their height difference made it awkwardly lopsided.

Sweat beaded between my shoulder blades and I fought
down nausea rising from the effort, the painkillers, and the lack of sleep.

I stopped on the landing between the two floors.

“Give me a minute.”

“I could just carry you,” Justin offered again.

“No.” I swallowed. “I’ll give you a hernia and then we’ll have to go back to the emergency room.” My face was hot. My hands were icy cold.

“God, you’re stubborn.”

“Just give me a minute.”

The three of us stood there while I fought off a cold sweat and rolling waves of dizzy queasiness.

“Forget this,” Justin said. He handed his crutch to Payton and swung me up in a cradle carry.

“Oh God, no.” My world tilted and the nausea clicked higher. I clung on, nearly choking him. “I can’t do this.”

He took the stairs two at a time and I felt the pressure ride up the back of my throat. We reached my hallway and he headed toward my room, with Payton hurrying after us.

“Bathroom,” I managed to croak before the gagging started.

He caught the look on my face and grimly headed to the women’s bathroom. He walked straight to the toilets and set me down gently so I half lay, half sprawled against the commode.

“Oh God,” I moaned, feeling very sorry for myself, and heaved into the pot.

*  *  *

“You’re okay now.”

I felt a cold washcloth on my face. I kept my eyes closed.

“I called Jonah. He said to go easy on you. He said you should eat something next time you take the ibuprofen … I didn’t mean to make you sick.”

I kept my eyes closed but smiled despite myself.

“She lives,” he said. “I saw that.”

I opened my eyes. He was sitting on the edge of my bed, looking as tired and scraggly as I felt. I patted his hand.