I’m sorry about earlier.’
‘Yeah, okay, but I told you I’ve got shit on.’
‘Can I stay tonight?’
‘What about your mom?’
‘I told her, she didn’t care.’
‘I ain’t gonna be back.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean you can stay, but I ain’t gonna be here. I’ll have to see you at school.’
‘Where are you going to be?’
Kane shook his head at me.
A rectangular object on the bed caught my attention.
‘What’s this?’ I said, going over to the bed and picking it up.
‘A computer,’ said Kane, taking it off me, and putting it back down.
‘It doesn’t look like a computer.’
‘Nat, what did I just say? It’s a fucking computer.’
‘I want to know where you’re going.’
He snapped, yelling at me, ‘I ain’t fucking doing this now. Why you always gotta make everything about you? I said I had shit on. You know what that means. Why couldn’t you just –’
Kane stopped mid-sentence and frowned. I’d crossed in front of him and picked up one of his weights off the floor.
‘What are you doing?’ he said.
The weight I’d picked up was heavy – almost too much for me to hold in one hand.
‘I want to know,’ I said resolutely.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ said Kane, as I moved closer to his wood dresser with all the carvings. I placed my arm so it was hanging half off it.
‘Nat, no!’
He lunged toward me, but the weight was already a short distance above my arm.
I dropped it.
Sweet Jesus, it hurt.
Pain like that – I didn’t know where to turn or what to do. It was more than I could bear. I’d pulled away from the dresser as soon as the weight hit, and I kept trying to lift my arm up against my chest but it wouldn’t come. I used my other hand to hold it, cradling it against my stomach. I couldn’t speak. I was struggling to draw breath.
‘You stupid fucked-up bitch!’ yelled Kane. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
His voice was loud and distant at the same time. I know that makes no sense, but it was like he was at full volume, but I couldn’t properly hear what he was saying, because the only thing I could concentrate on was the pain. All the blood seemed to rush from my head, and I thought for a moment I was going to pass out. I made it to the edge of Kane’s bed and sat down. Kane went silent, and then he crouched down in front of me.
‘You’ve broken it,’ he said.
‘No.’
‘Natalie, look at it,’ he said furiously. ‘You’ve fucking broken it. Badly too.’
I looked down at it. There was something wrong with my skin. It had a big lump in it. My forearm looked shorter.
‘It’s not broken,’ I managed.
‘Turn your wrist.’
There was no way that was going to happen. It was too busy hanging limply off the end of my arm.
I looked at Kane.
‘I’m sorry.’
He stood up.
‘You need to go to hospital.’
‘I’m sorry, Kane.’
‘Don’t talk to me,’ he said moving away from me.
I watched him take his cell phone out of his pocket.
‘Kane –’
‘Shut up or I’ll break your other arm.’
The slightest movement of my body was killing me. I sought out the weight, lying harmlessly on the stained carpet. I tried to fix my mind on it; the shape, the color, the matted surface – anything to keep the pain out.
Kane got off the phone.
I told him it hurt. He didn’t reply.
‘What do I do?’ I asked.
‘Wayne’s coming home with the truck,’ he said, putting the phone back to his ear.
‘I’m sorry, Kane.’
‘Bey,’ said Kane, talking into the phone. He opened the sliding door and went outside. ‘Something’s come up. I ain’t gonna make it.’ He pulled the door closed behind him.
I was still covered under Dad’s company insurance policy. You hear about companies screwing their employees over at the first hint that they might become less than fit to work; Dad’s company wasn’t one of those. It was a third-generation family company founded on strong Christian beliefs. Dad had never been
‘Yeah, okay, but I told you I’ve got shit on.’
‘Can I stay tonight?’
‘What about your mom?’
‘I told her, she didn’t care.’
‘I ain’t gonna be back.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean you can stay, but I ain’t gonna be here. I’ll have to see you at school.’
‘Where are you going to be?’
Kane shook his head at me.
A rectangular object on the bed caught my attention.
‘What’s this?’ I said, going over to the bed and picking it up.
‘A computer,’ said Kane, taking it off me, and putting it back down.
‘It doesn’t look like a computer.’
‘Nat, what did I just say? It’s a fucking computer.’
‘I want to know where you’re going.’
He snapped, yelling at me, ‘I ain’t fucking doing this now. Why you always gotta make everything about you? I said I had shit on. You know what that means. Why couldn’t you just –’
Kane stopped mid-sentence and frowned. I’d crossed in front of him and picked up one of his weights off the floor.
‘What are you doing?’ he said.
The weight I’d picked up was heavy – almost too much for me to hold in one hand.
‘I want to know,’ I said resolutely.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ said Kane, as I moved closer to his wood dresser with all the carvings. I placed my arm so it was hanging half off it.
‘Nat, no!’
He lunged toward me, but the weight was already a short distance above my arm.
I dropped it.
Sweet Jesus, it hurt.
Pain like that – I didn’t know where to turn or what to do. It was more than I could bear. I’d pulled away from the dresser as soon as the weight hit, and I kept trying to lift my arm up against my chest but it wouldn’t come. I used my other hand to hold it, cradling it against my stomach. I couldn’t speak. I was struggling to draw breath.
‘You stupid fucked-up bitch!’ yelled Kane. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
His voice was loud and distant at the same time. I know that makes no sense, but it was like he was at full volume, but I couldn’t properly hear what he was saying, because the only thing I could concentrate on was the pain. All the blood seemed to rush from my head, and I thought for a moment I was going to pass out. I made it to the edge of Kane’s bed and sat down. Kane went silent, and then he crouched down in front of me.
‘You’ve broken it,’ he said.
‘No.’
‘Natalie, look at it,’ he said furiously. ‘You’ve fucking broken it. Badly too.’
I looked down at it. There was something wrong with my skin. It had a big lump in it. My forearm looked shorter.
‘It’s not broken,’ I managed.
‘Turn your wrist.’
There was no way that was going to happen. It was too busy hanging limply off the end of my arm.
I looked at Kane.
‘I’m sorry.’
He stood up.
‘You need to go to hospital.’
‘I’m sorry, Kane.’
‘Don’t talk to me,’ he said moving away from me.
I watched him take his cell phone out of his pocket.
‘Kane –’
‘Shut up or I’ll break your other arm.’
The slightest movement of my body was killing me. I sought out the weight, lying harmlessly on the stained carpet. I tried to fix my mind on it; the shape, the color, the matted surface – anything to keep the pain out.
Kane got off the phone.
I told him it hurt. He didn’t reply.
‘What do I do?’ I asked.
‘Wayne’s coming home with the truck,’ he said, putting the phone back to his ear.
‘I’m sorry, Kane.’
‘Bey,’ said Kane, talking into the phone. He opened the sliding door and went outside. ‘Something’s come up. I ain’t gonna make it.’ He pulled the door closed behind him.
I was still covered under Dad’s company insurance policy. You hear about companies screwing their employees over at the first hint that they might become less than fit to work; Dad’s company wasn’t one of those. It was a third-generation family company founded on strong Christian beliefs. Dad had never been
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