WISHBONE (13 page)

The fall.

Schenectady…we are supposed to see the docteur.

Aside from the pleasure of loosening up his joints, he felt nothing as he moved.  Surprisingly, there was not a twinge of pain. He sat up, hoping the entire incident had been a terrible dream. He saw that his leg was still encased in plaster and bandages. He tried to remember when she had given him pain medication.

I feel nothing.

He thought about the accident and the doctor.

Fucking whack-a-doo!

He made himself laugh. He felt good.
He felt nothing.
With some trepidation, he tensed the muscles gradually in his leg—
nothing
. 

This is not right. 

This is impossible.

He flexed against the encasement as far as it would give—
still no pain
. He slid the bulky appendage to the ground quietly and looked over at Rachael, hoping not to wake her.

She will have a cow.

He maneuvered himself awkwardly, carefully getting to his feet. He held onto the couch and fearfully put his weight down on the cast—
nothing
. He let go and peeked back at Rachael.  She was sound asleep. He took one step and then another, but aside from the awkwardness of bearing the plaster; he made his way to the kitchen painlessly.

What the fuck? 

This is impossible.

         He walked back and forth clumsily along the counter and tried to wrap his brain around what was happening. He saw the x-rays, though briefly and while groggy from the anesthesia. 

Cut the thing off.

But what if…what if I am wrong?

 He tested the leg once again, this time giving it all of his weight in a child-like hop, landing hard upon the slate floor. He leaned back to peer into the living room but the noise had not awoken his wife. He laughed with amazement then quickly found a pair of scissors and stood cutting away the bandages down the front of his leg. A moment later, the plaster backing fell to the floor. He held onto the counter and tried again, bearing down with nothing to hold his supposed injuries together—
still
nothing.

Julien could hardly contain himself. He continued to test the leg, trying everything to disprove the miracle. He did everything he could to agitate the limb, but to no avail…he was unmistakably
intact
.

“What are you doing?” Rachael asked from the doorway behind him.

Her startled husband spun around to face her. His expression like that of a child caught in the act of something awful. He stood there before her in the cut scrub pants, surrounded by a swirl of bandages strewn about the floor; he could not imagine how he would explain this to her, or even where to start.

Rachael quickly grabbed a chair and instructed, “Sit… Sit down now!” She was both alarmed and angry.

Julien did as she said, sitting down beside the table. “Rachael,” he began, “there was a mistake. I am fine. It is okay.”

“Julien, I don’t know what’s gotten into you…” she dropped down, crouching in front of him and fumbling through the mess of bandages, trying to figure out how she would get them back on for the long ride to Dr. Ptak’s office.

“You are not listening to me, Rachael,” he went on. “My leg…it is fine…look…” He hopped up towering over her then jumping up and down.

Rachael slowly looked up, scanning his body until she met his gaze. She couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing, of what he was trying to tell her.

“Please, Jules, sit down.” She squatted then fell backward onto her rump against the cold slate floor.

Again, Julien did as he was told and sat down. She stared, transfixed on his leg. She had seen the damage yesterday: deep bruising and deformity. Now, sitting there, inches from him, there was nothing, not a trace remained of the injury. Even after Dr. Lind had done what he could, there had been undeniable, visible injury.
Am I losing my mind…again?
She wondered.

She ran her hand down his shin then looked up at him for any reaction. There was none. She began poking and prodding but he merely looked down at her, an odd questioning smirk on his face.

Julien vowed, “Rachael, how would I fuck around about this. I am healed…or there was a mistake…I do not know. My head does not hurt, my back is fine, the leg...I am okay.” He expected her to respond with sheer delight.

“Julien, I saw it! I saw the injuries with my own eyes, and the x-rays... This is impossible.  It must be the pain medication masking it, or…lessening it, or…I don’t know…making you think you’re okay,
but you’re not!”

“Eh, but I am.” He spoke calmly, throwing his hands up. “Voila!” He reached across the table for a pack of cigarettes. “Make coffee,” he ordered. He took a long drag.

Rachael did not move. Perplexed, her mind was playing tricks again, it had to be. She got up and went to the sink. Silently, she revisited the previous day’s events. She considered the possibility that there had been a mistake, or a mix-up of the x-rays, but dismissed this, knowing what she had seen. She had nothing…not one possible explanation came to mind for what she was witnessing, and although she was unsure why, it frightened her.

Julien sat chain smoking, frustrated and analyzing his own thoughts and disappointed by Rachael’s reaction. He too was confused…even mystified, but he was also
very happy,
and willing to accept his extraordinary reprieve. 

Rachael finally spoke up, “We need to get you to Schenectady. Let Dr. Ptak take a look…another set of x-rays…”

“Aye,” he groaned, “…but for what, Rachael? Pourquoi? There is no injury to take another look for. It is obvious.” He thumped his heel against the floor in a showy display.

“Julien, please…please, for me, okay?” She pleaded with him.

This is ridiculous! 

A waste of time.

 He got up, stubbing out his cigarette angrily and said, “I’m going to change my clothes and we’re leaving.”   

Rachael listened to him fly up the stairs. She found travel mugs and made one for each of them in an attempt to keep busy. Julien returned a short time later hurriedly reaching for the car keys on a counter at the same time as Rachael did.

“No!
 
I will drive.” He insisted, snatching up the keys then walking off in a huff. 

Rachael found her purse as the sound of the SUVs’ engine revved in the driveway. She grabbed the x-rays propped by the door and rushed out after Julien.

* * * *

Julien had them to Schenectady in forty-five minutes speeding the entire way. Angry that Rachael had insisted upon the trip, he drove in silence, delivering only one-word answers when she tried to speak to him throughout the ride.  

Rachael ignored Julien’s mood, her mind occupied in trying to make sense out of the last twelve hours. After getting lost twice, they finally pulled into the orthopedic surgery center and parked. Julien hopped out of the car, took one last drag off his smoke and flicked the butt to the curb. He entered the office ahead of Rachael, unwilling to wait for her to catch up, and allowing the door to close between them.

The waiting room was quiet. A woman sat with a small boy on her lap, his arm in a cast and sling. Across from her, a nun was reading a magazine, a walker fencing her into a chair.  Another man in his thirties sat listening to his iPod with no apparent injuries. At the desk, a young woman sat tapping away at a computer.

He approached the desk and nodded as she looked up. “Grenier…I am supposed to see Dr….”  He paused and looked back at Rachael walking up beside him.

“Ptak…we were sent by Dr. Lind in Kings Hollow.” Rachael added.

The girl fished through some paperwork scattered about the desk. “Yes,” she responded. “Here you are. Did you bring your x-rays?” She read over the fax and rose to her feet. She leaned over the high counter gazing downward then fell back on her heels to review the fax again. She took the giant envelope containing Julien’s films from Rachael.

The woman looked at Julien again and asked, “Grenier, right?”

“Ouai, Julien Grenier.” He turned to Rachael and shook his head. 

Rachael looked away. She would deal with whatever attitude Julien dished her way, as long as they were
there
and going to get to the bottom of this.

The woman spoke again, her wording paced, “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll let the doctor know you’re here.”

Julien left the desk. Rachael kept an eye on the woman, who was watching Julien closely as he walked toward the waiting area; her confusion was apparent. She looked down at the fax again then met Rachael’s gaze briefly before turning away and walking into the back office with the paperwork in hand. She returned moments later and began putting a chart together.

Rachael sat down beside Julien, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes concealed by dark sunglasses. She chewed her fingernails anxiously waiting for their name to be called. 

She bumped against him softly. “Don’t you want to be sure?” she whispered.

“This is a complete waste of time, Rachael,” he retorted in a voice a little too loud for the quiet setting. “Why can’t you just be ‘appy that I am okay? Why can
you
have a miraculous recovery, but I cannot?”

“Please keep your voice down.” Rachael glanced at the nun peering at them over her magazine. “This is different and you know it,” Rachel insisted. “Your leg was broken in like…a million pieces. I know what I saw. You don’t heal overnight from injuries like that.” She grabbed a magazine from a small table beside her and opened it. She looked down at the copy of
Popular Mechanics,
it was upside down—she tossed it aside.

“Mr. Grenier?” The woman at the desk called out, “You can come on back.”

Julien stood up. “Well, come on. I want you in there. If you don’t believe me, maybe you will believe the docteur.”

Rachael was not concerned with his invitation; she was coming along whether he wanted her there or not. She followed him past the receptionist who held a swinging door open for them, before stepping ahead and leading them down a long hallway and into a room. She pointed to a gown folded at the foot of a gray examining table. 

“You can put that on and the doctor will be with you shortly.” She left the room and closed the door behind her.

Julien stepped on the heel of one boot and then the next, pulling each foot free and kicking the boots aside. He removed his clothing fast and tossed it in a heap on the floor. He slipped on the gown and sat up on the paper-covered table, allowing his heels to bang repeatedly against the table’s base, keeping an impatient beat. He was doing nothing to conceal his agitation.

Rachael bent to pick up his clothes. Unable to resist any longer, she declared, “You don’t have to be so childish about this.”

“We’re wasting our time,” he reiterated.

“Maybe so, but I think you’re worth it.” She dropped his folded jeans onto the chair and began folding his shirt.

The door opened, interrupting them both. The doctor entered the room. He could not have been older than thirty-five—considerably younger than Rachael expected. He walked to the light board and slid two x-rays under clips before switching the illumination on. He studied Julien’s chart in his other hand then looked back at the x-rays.

“There appears to be some confusion, Mr. Grenier.” He dropped the chart on a rolling cart and stepped closer. “I’m Dr. Ptak.” 

Julien said nothing. The doctor looked at Rachael who introduced herself.

Ptak looked back and forth between them. “Could one of you please explain what’s going on here?”

Rachael stepped closer. “My husband fell from a ladder in our barn…”

“Whose films are these?” Ptak asked impatiently.

Julien quietly watched their interaction.

“You see, that’s why we’re here…those are
his
x-rays. But, when we woke this morning, he seems like…well, he doesn’t…”

Dr. Ptak looked to Julien and implored, “Is this some sort of joke?” He wasn’t laughing.

Julien looked to Rachael, raising his eyebrows and refusing to help.

“Lay back, Mr. Grenier,” the doctor requested then thoroughly examined Julien. 

Rachael bit down on the side of her thumb, watching with anticipation. Dr. Ptak gave no indication as he followed protocol, wearing his best poker face.

Ptak stepped away from the table. “You can put your clothes back on,” he said then took Julien’s chart and silently jotted some notes. He slipped his glasses into his breast pocket and turned to Julien who was pulling on his jeans. 

“I am a busy man, Mr. Grenier. You can tell Dr. Lind that I do not have time for pranks.”  He tucked the chart under his arm and headed out the door.

Rachael went after him. “Dr. Ptak,” she pleaded. “I assure you my husband was severely injured just yesterday. Now, perhaps there was a mix-up of the x-rays and it wasn’t as bad as it appeared to be, but can you
at least
take another x-ray to be sure?”

“Mrs. Grenier,
I can assure you
there is no reason to x-ray your husband again. Please, you’ll have to excuse me.”

Rachael moved closer to the wall, allowing the doctor to pass. She watched him walk away; stalling and knowing Julien was going to give her hell for this.

Julien sat at the edge of a chair tying his boots. His account affirmed by the doctor, his mood was softening and he began to feel sorry for Rachael. The doctor had been rude to her and though he could almost understand why, she had been coming from a place of concern. He finished dressing and looked up to find his wife near to tears standing in the doorway. She was a sensitive girl when he first met her and she remained one today.

“Come on, let’s go home.” He gave her arm a gentle shake. “This is a good thing, Rach.  Let’s go.” He stepped past her leaving the room. In the waiting area, he didn’t bother to stop at the desk, instead heading straight out the front door. In the parking lot, he lit a cigarette and sat in the car waiting for his wife.