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Sid sits in the emergency room and stares down at the clipboard in his lap trying to figure out how he’s supposed to fill out the information the harried looking nurse behind the counter gave him.
His right hand is completely wrapped in a makeshift bandage from his wrist to the tips of his fingers and he can’t figure out how to hold the pen comfortably in his left hand let alone fill out his full name, address, and emergency contacts.
The waiting room is packed and it seems like everytime someone gets called back into an exam room someone new comes in, limping or hacking up a lung.
A guy a few seats over from Sid coughs and sneezes and Sid shifts in his seat trying to get as far away from him as possible.
He’s in the ER because he sliced his hand on a rusty pair of skates that he was trying to sharpen. He doesn’t need to add mono or pneumonia or bronchitis or whatever the guy clearly has to the list.
It would just be one more thing he’d have to write on the forms anyways.
He gets his name down in awkward blocky letters then starts on his phone number.
The area code looks okay and he has renewed hope that maybe the rest of the form won’t be too bad when the pen flies out of his hand and skids across the floor.
He swears under his breath because there are children within earshot. Specifically the curly haired boy that’s been softly crying to his mother and holding his ear, making Sid’s heart ache in sympathy.
The pen has rolled against against the foot who is scrolling through something on his phone, stopping to tap at the screen before he pushes flicks his index finger against it.
Sid juggles the clipboard under his arm and clears his throat, trying to get his attention.
The man blinks and turns deep brown eyes towards Sid.
“Sorry,” Sid apologizes. “But my pen.”
The man blinks then glances down. “Oh,” he says as he reaches to grab it.
Sid catches a glimpse of the back of his neck down the back of his coat and the soft way his hair curls.
“Here.” He holds the pen out and Sid reaches first with his right hand, on instinct, before he pulls back and takes it with the left.
“Thanks,” Sid says as he shifts back in his seat. The man is still sitting on the edge of his.
“You need help?”
“Oh.”
The man shuffles his feet and Sid spots the air cast on his left leg. “Is foot that’s hurt.” He holds up both his hands. “Hands are fine.”
“Oh, I don’t think-.”
“Is fine. Can’t watch you struggle,” he says with a laugh as Sid looks down at the pen in his left hand. He stands up and waves off Sid’s objections.
“I could come to you, you shouldn’t be walking.”
“Okay, really.” He sits down in the empty seat beside Sid and stretches his leg out. “Been sitting for a long time. Nice to move.” He puts his hand out and Sid awkwardly shakes it with his left hand. “I’m Geno.”
“I’m Sid. Thank you for this.”
“No problem. Everyone here all in some kind of pain. Have to help each other out. Have license? Can just copy things over.”
Sid fishes it out of his wallet and hands it over along with his insurance card. Geno looks at the picture on his license and smiles at him.
“Shut up,” Sid says as he folds his arm over his chest. “No one takes a good picture at the DMV.”
“Cute,” Geno coos as he takes the clipboard and starts to copy down his address.
Geno’s handwriting isn’t exactly neat but it’s better than what Sid could do in his current condition.
“How did you hurt your leg?”
Geno doesn’t look up from the paperwork. “Slip on ice a few weeks ago. They tell me is just a sprain, put this weak cast on it. Still very swollen and sore. Not getting better. Have to get a second opinion. What about your hand?”
“I cut it while I was sharpening a skate.”
Geno looks up at that. “Ice skate?”
“Hockey.”
“You play?”
“Little bit. Not for a while now, though. I don’t know what happened. I thought I had a good grip on it but guess not.”
Geno winces. “Bad?”
“Not great. Bled like crazy for awhile.”
“Surprised they make you sit here. Should take in right away.”
“There’s so many people here,” Sid says with a shake of his head. “Unless my whole hand was dangling off my write I don’t think they’d rush to get me in.”
“I don’t mind waiting,” Sid says and it’s certainly truer now with Geno sitting next to him than it was before.
One of the nurses calls the kid who was holding his ear in and Sid waves to him as he and his mother pass by.
They’ve just made it through the door when Sid’s phone buzzes in his pocket.
“Opps,” he says as he pulls it out and sees the string of exclamation points Flower has sent him.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I kind of panicked when this happened and texted my friend asking what the best hospital was to go to.”
“And what’s it? No follow up?”
“I gave him like thirty seconds to respond and he didn’t so I just drove myself to what I thought was the best one.”
Several more texts come in and Sid unlocks his phone.
It’s slow going with only one hand and halfway through ‘I’m fine’ Geno plucks it from his fingers.
“Taking too long, freaking him out more. What do you want me to say?”
“Just tell him I’m fine and it’s nothing to worry about.”
Geno taps out the message and a moment later another text from Flower comes through.
“He says he doesn’t believe you.”
Sid groans and takes the phone back so he can call him.
He talks Flower down as Geno fills out the rest of his form, laughing quietly to himself as he swears to Flower that yes, he is going to be fine and no, he does not need him to leave his daughters recital and hold his one, good remaining hand.
“Ridiculous,” he says as he hangs up. Geno’s has the clipboard resting across his knees and the pen across the paper. “Are you done?”
Geno nods and Sid takes the paperwork up to the counter, leaving his phone behind with Geno.
They chat when Sid gets back, mostly about hockey and who has the best chance to win the cup.
Twenty minutes later Geno gets called in. He looks sad to say goodbye but the nurse calls his name again, this time not as nicely, and he shuffles off.
Five minutes later Sid’s called in and after double checking that he has a tetanus shot and six stitches in the middle of his palm they release him.
Geno’s not in the waiting room when he gets out and Sid hangs around for ten minutes before he tells himself that it’s dumb to wait.
Geno was only being helpful. He wasn’t looking for anything when he sat down beside him.
He goes home and tries not to drive himself crazy when the stitches start to itch in between texting Flower a million pictures of his hand trying to gross him out and trying not to think about Geno.
It’s a nice memory that he’ll carry with him but it’s nothing more than that. He hopes that someday he’ll believe it.
A few days later he’s scrolling through his contacts looking for the number of his barber- his hair is getting long and he really could use a trim- when he finds Geno from hospital )))) and hits the call button without thinking about it.
He doesn’t have time to freak out or hang up because it only rings once and Geno picks up.
“Hello,” Geno says.
Sid doesn’t say anything for a moment but then he takes a deep breath and finds some courage.
“Hi, Geno? It’s Sid, you know, from the hospital. I was looking through my phone and found your number and-.”
“Put my number in your phone when you go up to turn in paperwork. Hope that was okay.”
“I waited for you after I got out,” Sid admits, embarrassed. “I finally went home but….I’ve been thinking about you. I can’t believe you’ve been in my phone this whole time.”
“How you think I feel? Been waiting thinking maybe you saw it and deleted it.”
“No, I would never, just….do you want to go get coffee with me sometime? Can you even? How is your foot?”
“Real cast now. Have crutches.”
“Oh, okay, so….”
“Know coffee place close to my apartment.”
Sid smiles into the phone. “Just text me the address.”