Chapter 8
The doctor was leaning over the front desk, pointing out a chart notation to the office assistant, and looked up when he heard the bell over the door ring. He saw Charlie, supported by Don and Sam on either side, awkwardly limp through the door, trying to avoid putting any pressure on his left foot, which was bare, and the color purple.
"You're kidding, right?" He picked the chart up that he had just been discussing with the office assistant. "Well, I think your room is ready."
Don knew the way, and he guided the odd crabwalk to the exam room. This time, as it was the middle of the day, they had to wait a while for the doctor.
"If you're okay here, I'll go out to Jenna," said Sam. "She feels terrible."
"We're fine," answered Don, and Charlie gave him a look that silently said, "We are?". Aloud he encouraged Sam to "Go. Tell Jenna not to worry." After Sam had left, Charlie looked again at Don. "So you two are really all right, now? You're not just trying to fake it for the few hours we have left?"
Don was holding Charlie's arm to steady him on the table, and started to give it a squeeze, noticed Charlie's wince. Oops. Wrong arm. He switched to the other side. "Yeah, we're okay, now. Sam's a nice guy."
Charlie dropped his head, shook the unruly dark curls. "You sound as if you're surprised."
Don was sheepish. "I know. We're both pretty embarrassed about the whole thing, now."
The doctor interrupted them, then, gave Charlie's foot a cursory examination. "I'm pleased to say," he shared, standing and taking off his gloves, "that thanks to patients like you, the clinic just expanded this last year, to become a full-service facility. You can have your x-rays here." He looked at Don pointedly. "Let's see if I remember. You're the fishhook, helped with the cut on his temple?" Don nodded. "So the other guy is the black eye. This one must be his?"
"No," Don ground out, liking this doctor less and less. "It was Jenna, but it was an accident. They were all accidents." Charlie suddenly sneezed, and the doctor looked at the chart.
"Low grade fever," he said. "Which one dumped you in the river, again?"
"Both of them," answered Charlie before Don could get a word in.
The doctor looked again at Don. "I think we've got it from here," he said. "Why don't you wait outside, with your fellow…assassins in training, or whatever you are?"
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"Fourth and fifth metatarsals," he said, studying the x-rays on the light box. "Simple fractures. You're very lucky, really, a crushing injury could be a lot worse. We can outfit you with a short leg walking cast and boot, although you'll probably need crutches for at least a week, until the pain abates."
He turned to look at his patient, whose pale face spotted two bright flames of color. "Looks like your fever is going up. Have you been taking the antibiotics?" Charlie nodded miserably, blew his nose again. The doctor checked the chart. "Well, I guess it has only been one day since I gave them to you." He turned to head for the door of the exam room, scribbling on a prescription pad. "My tech will be in to cast you," he started. "While they're waiting, I'll send your…friends…out to rent crutches, get some pain meds." He stopped with his hand on the doorknob and turned back around to face Charlie. "Can I make a suggestion?"
Charlie's head was pounding again, his arm still throbbed, and now the very air was too much pressure on his foot, he could barely concentrate. He looked at the doctor sullenly. "What?"
"Maybe it's time to go home."
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They broke camp quietly, so as not to wake anyone still trying to sleep in the early dawn. Sam helped Don pack the SUV, while Charlie leaned on his crutches and watched, feeling Jenna's arm around his waist. Sam threw Don the last rolled sleeping bag, and she stretched awkwardly over a crutch to kiss Charlie on the cheek. "I'm…"
"Don't say 'sorry' again, please," he smiled.
She smiled back. "Well, I am, but not just what you think." He lifted his brows and waited. "I'm sorry," she confessed quietly, "to admit that even if I had known what this week would be like, I would have wanted you to come anyway. I've missed you."
He pressed his head into hers, then pulled back and kissed her forehead. "Me, too," he said. "But maybe next time, you could come to L.A.?"
She laughed quietly. "I'd like that. I may have to knock Sam out to get him there, but I would really enjoy that, also. On certain days."
Don shook Sam's hand sincerely. "It wasn't good to meet you," he said, surprising Sam into a laugh too loud for the quiet campground. "But it's good to know you now," Don finished, and Sam shook again, clasped Don's upper arm with his other hand.
"Couldn't have said it better myself," he smiled, shyly, and the quartet switched partners for final good-byes. Just a few moments later Jenna was bundling Charlie in the passenger seat. She looked over at Don, climbing behind the wheel. "Drive safely, now. When you get tired, you pull over for a while. I know Charlie won't be able to spell you on the way home."
"I will," he promised. "We'll see you soon." The doors were shut, the SUV slowly pulled away. Don could see them waving in the rear view mirror, all the way to the main road.