Page 69 of The Groupie

The doctor comes in a minute later, checks Mamma’s breathing and lungs with the stethoscope, and looks at her charts. He does all this without saying a word and it’s unnerving. I want to shake him and yell at him to tell us how she’s doing, but I keep my increasingly elusive cool.

“How are you feeling?” He smiles at Mamma.

“Like I just had something shoved in my ribs. Feels tight.”

“That’s normal.” He turns to me and Suzie. “The procedure went well and she’ll be good to go home tomorrow. We’ll give her a couple of prescriptions and have her in for a post-op checkup in a week.”

Relief sends a surge of joy through me. “Thank you, doc. That’s exactly what we needed to hear.”

“You can visit for a little while, but then your mother needs her rest.” He aims a kind smile at each of us and then leaves.

I tell Mamma and Suzie I need to leave for Park City today.

“What about Zak?” Suzie asks.

“What about him?”

“If you leave today, you won’t have a chance to say goodbye to him.”

I shrug, pretending it doesn’t matter. Mamma glares at me from bed and coughs. Panic rises and I rush to her side.

“You okay, Mamma? Should I call a nurse?”

“I’m fine. But I’m worried about you. Blowing off a perfectly fine young man like that.”

“I’m executing my plan. I told him I was leaving after your surgery.”

“Chicken shit.” Mamma continues to glare at me, looking no less intimidating propped on pillows in a hospital bed. The rhinestones rimming her glasses flash like sparks.

“I agree with Mamma,” Suzie says.

“At least I’m a whole chicken shit,” I say.

“You think you’re going to fall apart if you care about a man?”

“You’re the one who taught me to be independent.” Anger and panic rise and I bat them down.

“That was my loneliness talking.”

I glare at her. “Whatever. It was, and is, sound advice. I’m leaving because I don’t need him. He can’t make promises and has no business making promises he can’t keep.”

Leaning in, I hug Mamma, taking it easy because she feels frail. I bite my lip to hold in a whimper. “Take care of yourself, Mamma. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Go win a medal for me, Rylee girl, preferably a gold one, but I’m not too fussy.”

I smile and choke back a laugh-sob. “I’ll call you when I land. Chuck arranged the flight and it leaves soon. I have an Uber waiting out front.”

“Chuck?” Suzie questions.

“He’s my fucking coach. That’s all he is.”

“Too bad he doesn’t know that,” she mutters under her breath as she gives me a quick hug. “Knock ’em dead, Rylee.”

Squeezing Suzie’s arm without looking her in the eye, I leave.

When the elevator doors open, I fly through the lobby and out the hospital’s front door, and run to the waiting car, testing my not-quite-healed ankle. If it doesn’t hold up—never mind. That’s what cortisone injections were invented for. I don’t care how short-term a solution it might be.

Fuck tomorrow.