Page 8 of Iron Hearts
“We can’t make it without the tips. Besides, I’m an adult, and it’s not your choice.”
The curtain was whisked aside in the emergency room bay I was in, and the doctor came in, interrupting any further discussion of my employment status.
“Well, your scans did come back with signs of a mild-to-moderate concussion,” he said.
“Oh!” My mother covered her mouth with both hands.
“Mom, stop!” I snapped. “I could have just as easily gotten it playing soccer.”
The doctor chuckled. “That’s true, actually, but that’s not what happened here, now is it?”
I sighed. “No offense, but not you, too, Doc. Ineedmy job.”
“Well, youneedto take some time off,” he said, and I stubbornly shook my head, gritting my teeth. I needed to look fine. I needed tobefine. I couldn’t miss any hours.
“I’m fine,” I argued.
“You are most assuredly going tobefine, but you’re definitely not fine right now,” he said.
“My poor baby.” My mom’s voice cracked.
“I’m going to work tomorrow,” I griped. “And there’s nothing either of you can do to stop me.”
The doctor sighed, lowering my chart and grasping the clipboard at his waist, arms crossed and gripping the edge.
“That may be true, but you’ll need to follow the head injury and concussion protocol tonight…”
I impatiently waited for the doctor to fill my mother in on what needed to be done, since he clearly didn’t trust me to handle myself, much to my frustration. I wasn’t a child! But I got it. I wasn’t exactly an adult, either – not at just twenty-four. I mean, wasn’t it something like twenty-five before your frontal cortex or whatever fully developed?
Honestly, I was too tired to fucking care. I just wanted to go home.
The entire car ride from the hospital to home, my mother lectured me on being careful and told me how much I needed to look after myself. Which, okay, fine, alright, I would take that – but when she started in on my job, I shut her down cold.
“Nope,” I cut her off. “We aren’t going there!” I declared.
“Rarity Jane Mitchell!” she cried, and I glared at her. She faltered, her face awash in the red light of the traffic light in front of us.
“Boundaries, Mother,” I said firmly.
She crumbled a bit and looked so lost my heart gave a twist.
“I’m fine,” I reiterated. “It was stupid and a one-off thing. It’s theIron Horse. It’s not always going to be one hundred percent safe. That’s the world we live in these days.”
Her eyes welled up, and I made a slightly exasperated sound.
“It’s green,” I told her as the light changed. Just anything to get her to stop looking at me like that.
Thankfully, we made the rest of the ride home in silence, albeit an uncomfortable one.
Once home and inside the front door, my mother sighed disappointedly and said to me, “Go to bed. I’ll get you up like the doctor told me.”
I nodded tiredly and sighed. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, baby,” she declared. We hugged in the kitchen, and I went into my room across from the kitchen island while she went into her room past the dining room table.
I took a long, hot shower before drying my long blonde hair and braiding it to sleep. I had the promise of a spectacular swelling bruise across one cheekbone, climbing up my temple and around my right eye. Right now, it was hard to see under the harsh bathroom light, the barest shadowing of blue under my skin with the chance to darken like a motherfucker given time.
I made a face at my reflection and looked at the rest of me. Long blonde hair, wide blue eyes, and a smattering of freckles across my nose and cheeks made me feel like I looked thirteen with my face scrubbed clean of makeup. It also made me look like some kind of preacher’s daughter – all sweet and innocent.
