My shoulders slumped forward, and I leaned through the tiny space into the compact car’s backseat. I glanced at the space in the front, and knew if I forced myself into that cramped area, my leg would be out the window for all of Galway to see. I rolled my eyes at him and shimmied my way into the backseat and rested my crutches across my torso like a seatbelt.
Zoey climbed in beside me and squeezed under the crutches. “I feel like we’re at Six Flags,” she giggled. “Ready for a ride?”
My outstretched leg rested across the middle console and leaned against Jaime’s shoulder. I tapped Owen from behind. “Thanks for the ride. Please go slow. I don’t know if I can handle the bumps.”
Owen turned in his seat and grinned. “No worries.” He shifted into first gear, and his elbow crashed into the heel of my foot.
“Ow.” I scowled and tried to pull my leg back, but there was no extra space.
“Sorry, but I have to change gears.”
My body jerked back as he transitioned into second. We lurched to the left and then the right as he peeled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. My foot throbbed with each curve, and I pulled my eyes shut, making a pained ‘o’ with my lips.
The two men continued to discuss football, something I didn’t know anything about, so I zoned out, praying we’d be home soon. This was not how I planned on starting my trip, and my spirits fell at my lack of control.
Owen tore into the parking lot of our apartment complex, and Jaime climbed out before pushing the front seat forward. Zoey took my crutches, and I fumbled to redistribute my weight. The coupe was so low to the ground that I nearly fell out, carefully grabbing onto Zoey’s outstretched arms.
Jaime and Owen followed us up the staircase, even though I moved like a senior citizen. Zoey let us into the apartment, and I fell onto the couch, utterly exhausted. My thigh muscles burned, my armpits ached, and my head throbbed from the day’s stress. I can’t believe this is happening.
The doctor recommended I stay off my foot for up to a week. She told me minor sprains could take up to six weeks to heal, and my heart sank. Classes started Monday, and six weeks was practically half my trip. Crushed by my bad luck, I watched my guidebook and calendar go up in smoke.
Jaime and Owen stood in the kitchen while Zoey got me settled on the couch with pillows under my foot.
“Hey, Jaime? Can you get me some ice?” I called.
A bag of frozen peas hit me on the shoulder.
“Ow,” I said, shooting lasers from my eyes.
“It’s all we have.” He and Owen walked down the hall before I could request a cup of water. I frowned at Zoey and thanked her for helping. She handed me a glass of water and a snack, and placed the television remote and my stained guidebook next to my hip before retreating to her room.
Alone on our couch, I wondered if my semester was over before it had even started.
* * *
For the next seven days, I only traveled from my bed to the couch to the bathroom. I emailed my professors, explaining my circumstances, and completed the coursework at home. Zoey and Marissa went grocery shopping, window shopping around Eyre Square, and to the coast of Salthill to watch the sun set without me. Disappointment and loneliness hovered around me every time they ticked off an item on my wishlist.
Jaime constantly popped in and out of the apartment, bringing friends in or disappearing most of the day for practice. Half the time he didn’t come home at night, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had a girlfriend on the side.
“Jaime?” I called when the front door closed. “Are you there?” Facing the picture window opposite the door, I couldn’t turn without twisting my back.
“Yes, your highness.”
“Can you get me a blanket?”
He dropped the lightweight blanket that normally lay across my bed onto my knees. “Anything else?” The words were kind but sarcastic.
I smiled and shook my head. “Thanks.”
I was out of commission and unable to assert my presence, so when I went into the kitchen and saw a sink full of dishes, I flinched but bit my tongue. When I entered our bedroom, my crutch slid on a pile of dirty clothes scattered on the floor like breadcrumbs, and I screamed in frustration. Not only was I losing control of my semester, but I was feeling out of control in my house.
I stayed on the couch as long as possible. If I didn’t see the mess, I couldn’t get upset; if I saw it, I couldn’t do anything about it.
On exactly day seven, I stepped on my foot and slowly increased the pressure. No pain, no pain, ow. Consistent discomfort led to muted sparks zapping through my lower leg as I increased the weight on my foot. I thought about all the times I had felt uncomfortable—poison ivy on my hands when I went to summer camp, tweaking my back when babysitting, and having cavities filled.
Mind over matter, Rory. I survived then, and I’ll survive now. I willed myself to feel better, but remained cautious. I wasn’t going to be stupid, but I wasn’t going to let my sore ankle keep me down any longer. Ireland, ready or not, here I come!
Chapter 7
