The Candid Life of Meena Dave(17)
Meena didn’t want to add this to her growing list of things.
“I’ll figure it out,” she said.
He stepped back, gave her space. She could see concern in his dark-brown eyes. At the same time, she appreciated that he didn’t press her.
“I can call a Lyft.” Meena reached for her phone.
“If you prefer.”
What would it be like to just accept help? Meena wasn’t wired that way. Not for personal things. Professionally she relied on a network of other photojournalists, editors, guides, assistants, and local experts. That was in service to her career. When it came to herself, she managed things on her own. Sam was nice, but she didn’t want to be a burden. She’d been taking care of herself for a long time.
She did let him help her gather her things before she went out to wait for the car. He looked worried, so she gave him a big smile to hide the pain. “I’ll be back in a few. I’m sure it’s just a sprain.”
“Your X-rays show a Colles fracture,” Dr. Yan said. “It’s common when you fall on an outstretched hand. It’s isolated in the distal radial metaphyseal region with a dorsal angulation.”
“I don’t know what any of that means.” Her back against the medical table, Meena cupped her wrist and held it against her chest.
“See this?” Dr. Yan turned her tablet to show Meena the scan. “That little crack in your wrist is the primary injury.”
Her first broken bone of any kind. She knew the swelling was going to be bad but had held out hope for a severe sprain. “What happens now?”
“We’ll do a closed reduction to manipulate the bones in place and then fit you for a cast from the top of your hand to your elbow.”
“How long is this going to take?” Time was speeding by. She’d already waited for X-rays. “I have a flight in two hours.”
“That’s not going to be possible,” Dr. Yan stated.
She rested her head against the back of the exam table and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to reschedule again. She’d had everything arranged. A packing company, recommended by Clifton, was scheduled for the middle of the week to take everything to storage. Cleaners toward the end of the week, then the place would be listed. She had planned to do everything, including rental agreements, remotely.
She’d made peace. Decided that it was best to deal with this in a matter-of-fact way. It was enough to know that Neha had left the apartment to her. The notes were a nice distraction, that was all. Meena didn’t want it to mean anything more. She had a life, a career. Those were her priorities.
Then she’d seen the piece of paper sticking out of the hedgehog’s mouth.
The throbbing eased as the local anesthetic took effect. Her wrist and hand were still puffy, as if someone had blown air into a latex glove. Dark bruises ran up her arm and above the elbow, and she couldn’t move her fingers. “Can I work my camera?” Even if she relied solely on autofocus, the trick would be holding it and working it while also juggling the many other pieces of gear she might need while shooting an assignment—even an assignment that typically wouldn’t have been physically demanding.
“Likely not for the next few days because of the pain. Once the soreness eases, you should be OK since you’re right-handed,” Dr. Yan said. “I don’t recommend flying around right now. Once we release you, go home. Rest for a few days, then see how you feel.”
A few hours later, as her flight was likely landing at LaGuardia, Meena entered the apartment, pain pills in hand.
The door had been left unlocked, and the first thing Meena noticed was that the ceramic fragments had been cleaned up. Likely Sam. She sat on the couch and stretched her legs out with her feet on the coffee table. She’d wanted to leave, get back to her regularly scheduled life. But she’d still reached for another note.
CHAPTER TEN
“Chutes and ladders!” Meena was thirty-four years old and still couldn’t curse because she was afraid of disappointing her mother.
She’d wanted a cup of tea, but because she only had one hand, she’d knocked the hot water over as she ripped open the tea bag packet with her teeth. Though she’d dropped the ceramic mug to the floor, it stayed intact. The handle wasn’t so lucky, now in fragments.
She sat back against the stainless-steel fridge and cradled her arm. It had been three days since she’d broken her wrist. She’d slept for most of it, occasionally woken up by Sam knocking on her door with an ice pack or one auntie or another bringing her food. There had been a foggy conversation with Sabina that she needed to follow up on about canceling the packers and cleaners. It was fine; it would even save her some money to do everything herself. Once she could manage the pain. Everything hurt—her arm, her shoulder, and her back from sleeping on the couch. But she couldn’t sleep in Neha’s bed. It was better to keep the distance, stay on the sofa to remember that this was temporary. She leaned her head back. The hair she couldn’t put up got caught in something, and she yanked it out. Now her scalp hurt.
She swallowed the rising tears.
Your life is full, Meena. There’s no reason to cry. Her father used to say that whenever Meena was upset.
She never let herself feel sorry for her circumstances when, in the grand scheme of things, she was able bodied, unencumbered by chronic illness, and able to support herself. This was an inconvenience, that was all. Yet. Just once, she wanted to wallow.