Page 45 of Summer Lessons
“That’s nice,” Terry murmured. “One of the nicest things ever, and you’re hurt too. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”
Longer than a doctor’s visit, Terry. I’ll need you for a nice long time.
About fifteen minutes into the wait, Terry’s pocket buzzed, and he pulled out his phone. Mason had already texted Skip and Dane the pertinent info, so this could only be the big bad she-wolf herself.
“Yeah, Mom. I told you, I’m staying with my friend. Because he’s hurt and he needs me, that’s why. No, you might want to take the bus, then. I can’t take you to Carol’s. I can’t. No, I told you that two hours ago—if she offered to give you a ride, you should have taken her up on it. No. I showed you how to use the bus last month. The stop’s a block and a half away. You should go. Because I’m not coming home tonight, probably. Because he’s still in X-Ray, that’s why. Because he’s my friend and he needs me, Mom. I’m sorry if that bothers you, but it’s true. I gotta go. No, don’t call back. I’ll block your calls if you don’t behave. Bye.”
With a grunt, Terry shoved the phone back in his pocket and then took in Mason’s wide-eyed gaze. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get so loud.”
“You did that?” Mason asked, his heart pounding with what could only be wonder. “For me?”
Terry smiled fondly, not a squirrel or a flippant kid or a flight risk—not for this moment. “Yeah, Mason. I’m….” He looked away. “You deserve a nice guy.”
“I do, right?” Mason smiled back at him. “I’ve got one.”
At that point the nurse called his name, and he was taken in for X-rays that hurt him possibly more than the original injury. He got to go sit in the doctor’s office after that, and Terry sat with him as he was shown how to wrap the foot and told to ice it every day, because it was a sprain but it was abadsprain, and he probably wouldn’t be able to play soccer for another month.
“Or golf?” Mason asked plaintively.
“Or golf,” the doctor confirmed. “The good news is you can probably walk short distances—like from your car to the office—in about two weeks. Can you live with that?”
Mason regarded the doctor—a genial man about his own age—with deep suspicion. “What if I said no?”
He was rewarded with a laugh. “I don’t know what to tell you, Mr. Hayes. Sometimes hurts just take time to heal. But don’t worry—when it’s gone, it should be gone forever, so you’ll be okay.”
Mason nodded and tried not to pout, but he apparently fooled nobody.
“Don’t be a baby,” Terry told him after he’d been loaded in the car in front of the hospital. “Do what the doctor says—go home, levitate it, ice it—”
“Levitate it?” Mason had an odd vision of his legs just rising up for no reason.
“Isn’t that the word he used? And do I go left or right here?”
“Left. And I think he said elevate, but I can’t be sure. I thought I was the one on all the pain medication. Where did that come from?”
“Hunger,” Terry said sourly, steering with muscle like the wheel was stiff. “It’s almost four in the afternoon!”
Mason groaned. “That explains it. Okay—food on the way home. Your choice, I pay.”
“Deal!”
And then Mason remembered that conversation at X-Ray. “So, uh, do I get you all night? For real?”
His eyes were closed against the sun through the windshield, but he heard the definite joy in the answer.
“Yeah! Yeah—I mean, she’s already mad at me. It’d be stupid not to just do that. I’ll stay over.” His sigh gusted through the little car. “I just wish you were up to more… you know….”
“Acrobatics?” Mason supplied. “Well, don’t worry. We can do plenty with me on my back, trust me.” He was tired and woozy from the pain meds, but if that’s what it took to get Terry to stay the night, he’d do it.
Terry made a funny little sound—half laugh, half surprise.
“Not necessary,” he said after a moment. “Tell you what—I’ll take you home, get some takeout—”
“Wait!” Mason checked his phone as it buzzed. “We can get something light on the way, but nothing huge. Dane’s making lasagna.” Aw, that was nice. “It’s my favorite—we just need a snack to get us through until six.”
“Oh.” Terry sounded disappointed. “I can’t do anything for you, really. I’m sorry.”
Mason blinked and tried to come out of his wooziness. “You can get me home. You can sit next to me on the couch and help me up to bed. Don’t worry, Terry—just being there counts.”