Standard disclaimer applies.
A few buckets later, we hear Dave and Scott talking as Rich drives the wheelbarrow up to us.
"All I'm saying is they're good together," says Dave, throwing out his hands.
"But peanut butter and pickles..." starts Scott.
"Dill pickles," corrects Dave.
"Alright, dill pickles, just sounds weird to me," says Scott, making a yucky face.
"Don't knock till you've tried it. It's the ultimate combination of sweet and sour," claims Dave. He finally seems to notice that my face is half buried in Smitty's shoulder, still softly crying. "Everything okay, Smitty?"
"It will be when we get her to the ER," he says, patting my arm. I look up at him, grateful he didn't tell the real reason for my little breakdown.
Feeling a bit embarrassed for lying to the other Movers, I say, "I'm just in a lot of pain. Those bark chips aren't working as good as I'd hoped."
My fib seems to have thrown them off, as Rich says, "You'll be at the hospital soon. Think you can
wiggle yourself around?"
"With a little help, I think so," I say, trying to get in a position to scoot my way to the wheelbarrow that he and Scott are tipping forward for me. Dave and Smitty drag me up into a sitting posture once I'm in and they wheel me back to the Think Tank, Warehouse Mouse riding with me.
To everybody's surprise, Nina was sitting on the sofa. "Hi, guys! Katie, what happened?" she says when she notices the splint.
"I tripped while I was in the Forest Room with Smitty. I got a really bad sprain and he's about to take me to the emergency room to have it checked out," I explain. "I hope it's not too bad. I hate going to the hospital."
"Me too," squeaks Mouse as he hops out.
It's a bumpy ride out to the car going up and down those few steps but I manage to only cringe a few times. It was a quiet ride in and Smitty told the triage nurse he was my boyfriend so he could stay with me the whole time. The x-ray confirmed the sprain and I was sent home with a Vicodin prescription, an air cast, and crutches, with strict orders to stay off my foot for the next few weeks. Last thing I remember before waking up in bed was downing a few pills and a very long kiss good night.
"Morning, sleepyhead," he says, holding a tray with bacon, eggs over easy, and toast for me. I can tell from his rumpled appearance that he spent the night camped out on my recliner.
"Morning, yourself," I smile as I pile some pillows so I can sit up and scoot over a bit, allowing him to sit on the edge. "I'd've been fine, ya know? I'm not used to having someone take care of me like this."
"So you've said. I hope you don't mind me raiding your kitchen. I figured you'd be starving,'' he says, putting the tray on my lap. The bacon was burnt and the eggs a little runny, but I was touched that my man cooked for me. 'My man'. That still sounds so strange to me. He catches me looking at my cell phone and takes it off the endtable. "Oh, no you don't. You're going to take it easy, whether you like it or not!"
"But I have five jobs I need to finish before the end of the week. Sitting at my workbench is staying off my foot," I complain. Just by the look he's giving me tells he's not going to give in. "Okay, but can I at least come with you to the warehouse? I'll go nuts sitting here all by myself. Even if all I do is play Go Fish with Mouse, it'll be better than this!" Few people know how hard it is for me to sit still for long periods of time, and this is no exception.
"Do you promise to let us do everything for you?" he asks.
"Except for a few obvious things, of course!"
Using my cell, he calls Rich. "Hey, it's Smitty. Katie's coming to the warehouse with me today." He listens for a few seconds, and answers, "I want to make sure she follows doctor's orders and not work and possibly make her foot worse. Plus, there's something we want to announce to everybody when we get there."
