by MJ Hajost
Johnny pulled back from the wall and swiped a shoulder across his forehead,
sopping up the dripping sweat with the sleeve of his shirt. He carefully
picked a scrap of wallpaper from his forearm and deposited it in the trash
can that sat next to the ladder on which he stood, then looked up to admire
his handiwork.
Another hour or so, he thought, and he'd be able to wash the walls down and
get started on painting the ceiling. He could finish that today, and then
get the walls painted tomorrow. Overall, he was pleased with how quickly
the job was progressing.
"Oh, my, you're almost finished taking off the wallpaper. You work so
fast!"
Johnny nodded, eyeing the cleared wall critically, but no remnant of paper
remained. He turned toward the speaker with a slight shrug. "It's been coming
off pretty easily," he assured the woman standing in the doorway of the
room.
"Well, I've made you some lunch," she informed him. "It's ready whenever
you want to take a break."
"Mrs. DeCicca, you shouldn't do that," Johnny protested with a shake of his
head, favoring his elderly landlady with a grin that belied his words.
Her answering smile was just as engaging. "John," she told him, "I have to
do something to put meat on those bones of yours. Besides," she added, "what's
to making a sandwich or two? Especially since you won't let me pay you for
your time." This last was accompanied by an attempt to look stern.
Just his luck! "Well, ma'am," Johnny winked, "your food more than pays for
my time. Especially your chocolate chip cookies."
She waved a hand at him with a laugh. "Flattery will get you everywhere.
I'll be in and out for the rest of the afternoon. If I'm not here, you'll
make sure you lock the door when you leave, won't you?"
"Of course," Johnny nodded.
The woman gazed around the room once more. "You work so fast," she murmured,
turning away with a shake of her head. "Come on down whenever you're ready--the
sandwiches are in the fridge."
"Thanks, Mrs. DeCicca," Johnny called after her.
He climbed from the ladder, studying the remaining scraps of paper still
clinging to the last wall, then glancing up at the ceiling and estimating
the time needed to finish up today. He nodded in satisfaction. He'd finish
in plenty of time for his date with Brenda.
Half an hour later, he returned to the room, two sandwiches, three glasses
of fresh lemonade, and four chocolate chip cookies fuller. Energy once more
refreshed, he grabbed his scraper and climbed back up the ladder to finish
with the wallpaper removal.
Ten minutes later he fell.
It was so freakish that Johnny would have had a hard time to refrain from
laughing had he encountered something like this on a call. He had simply
reached for the bucket that rested underneath the ladder so that he could
wipe down the section of wall he had just finished clearing. He'd been making
the exact same maneuver all morning. Only, this time, he unbalanced as he
leaned down. He tried to twist away from the pail in order to avoid spilling
water everywhere. This only succeeded in knocking the ladder askew.
Johnny leaped sideways to avoid the toppling ladder and landed heavily on
his right ankle. The joint gave way with a sickening snap. His eyes widened
and he couldn't prevent the cry of surprise and pain that he let loose. When
he had exhausted his supply of four-letter words, he took a breath and fought
to quell the shaking. After a minute or so, the trembling eased up and he
dropped onto his back and lay for another minute or so, catching his
breath.
There was a sudden pounding on the front door.
Oh, please, don't let that be--
"Mrs. DiCicca?" A distinctly female voice floated up the stairs, anxiety
coloring the words. "Are you all right?"
Johnny could hear a light pounding on the stairs and the purposeful tread
approaching the room. "In here," he grunted, shoving himself up onto his
elbows with a grimace.
"Oh!"
He turned at the startled exclamation from the doorway, his expression altering
into one of instant chagrin. Just his luck that a lovely young woman would
be the one to find him thus.
"What happened?" The apparition in the doorway took a step forward, then
stopped and looked around at the stripped walls and scattering of ladder,
water bucket, sponge, and scraper. Her interested gaze returned to Johnny's
face, then traveled down to his foot, which he was obviously favoring.
For a minute, Johnny found himself speechless. That she should not only speak,
but appear concerned for his welfare struck him dumb. "I...uh...fell," he
finally managed.
"I can see that," agreed the woman, stepping forward. She had the grace,
Johnny noticed, to not smile at his predicament.
"I've been helping Mrs. DiCicca," Johnny explained, shifting again, not quite
biting back the hiss of pain the movement released.
The woman frowned, pushing back a loose strand of hair.
Johnny's heart skipped a beat.
"You live downstairs, don't you?" asked the girl, moving forward and righting
the ladder before stooping next to him.
Johnny's heart pounded madly. "Uh, yeah," he squeaked.
"I thought so," she said, eyeing his twisted ankle. "I've seen you around
now and then." She frowned and tilted her head. "You come and go at the strangest
times," she added.
Johnny flushed. "I'm a fireman," he stammered. "Well, a paramedic, actually,
but I do rescue work and fight fires, too...." His voice trailed off as he
realized how idiotic he was sounding.
"I'm Annie Franklin," she finally smiled. Her hazel eyes crinkled at the
corners with an amusement held only slightly in check, and she once more
shoved back a lock of her light brown hair.
Johnny's hearted melted into his stomach. "John--Johnny--Gage," he
answered.
"Well, John-Johnny, you're the paramedic. What have you broken, and how do
we treat it?"
"Well...." Johnny shifted again, trying to sit up, this time letting loose
with the hiss of pain when his leg moved.
"Careful!" Annie dropped her hand on his arm.
Johnny's stomach melted into his legs.
"It's just a sprain, I think," he offered.
"Can you stand up?" asked Annie. "I could help you back on your feet."
Johnny's legs melted into his feet.
"Uh...I think so," he said.
He managed to sit up, and between the two of them, finally got to his foot.
He couldn't begin to put any weight on his right side.
"Maybe I should call the fire department," Annie suggested, struggling with
Johnny's weight on her shoulder.
"No!" Johnny's face blanched and his vehemence pushed her back a step.
Unbalanced, she nearly tripped, catching the ladder before she could fall.
"Hey! Take it easy!" She straightened and removed his arm from around her
shoulder.
Johnny grabbed the ladder and hopped closer to the ladder to steady himself.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "But, I'll be fine. I don't need any paramedics. I'll
just go ice it or something."
Annie was shaking her head. "You really should have that x-rayed," she told
him. "It looks pretty swollen already."
"It's just a sprain," Johnny insisted, peering at the appendage, which was
already threatening to force its way from his sneaker. "I've had lots of
sprains."
"It might be a stress fracture," countered Annie. "I've had lots of those."
Johnny shrugged. "Well, it's not a serious one, then," he tried.
"It might only be a small stress fracture," Annie pressed, "but even that
could cause problems."
"I'll be fine, now," Johnny tried to assure her.
Her mouth twisted. "And, you'll get to the hospital how, when it flares up
at three in the morning?"
Johnny sighed and quirked an eyebrow at her.
"Will you at least let me drive you now?" Annie asked. "I'd feel guilty for
weeks to come if this turned out to be something more serious than just a
twisted ankle."
In the end, Johnny finally agreed to let Annie drive him to Rampart for x-rays.
"I'll never live this down," he muttered all the way to her car.
An hour later, Johnny looked up as the treatment room door opened to admit
Dixie McCall, followed closely by Kelly Brackett, who held a packet of x-rays
in his hand.
"Well, Johnny," he grinned, "you can thank your neighbor for insisting that
you come in for x-rays." He slapped the film into the viewer, flipped on
the light, and pointed for Johnny's benefit.
Johnny squinted, but found it impossible to determine anything at the distance
he was from the film. "I'll take your word for it," he said, dropping back
onto the table with a sigh. "Broken?"
"Hairline fracture." He pointed, more for his own sake than Johnny's. The
younger man wasn't even looking in his direction.
"That explains the way it hurts," murmured Johnny. Just his luck.
Brackett approached. "Well, the good news is that your down time will be
minimal."
"Small favors." Johnny offered up a ghost of a smile.
Brackett grinned. "Well, provided you just keep off of it and do what your
doctor orders."
"Do I have any other options?" Johnny grinned wryly. "Thanks, Doc." He sighed.
"You gonna put me in a cast?"
Brackett shook his head. "I think we'll put it in a soft splint instead,"
he explained. "But, no weight bearing for two weeks at least," he added.
"You'll need to come back in then and have it x-rayed again, and we'll go
from there."
"Light duty?"
Brackett nodded. "Can't let you haul hose on crutches."
Johnny heaved another resigned sigh.
"If it makes you feel any better, your young lady is still waiting for you."
Brackett's eyes crinkled at Johnny's surprised expression. "You know, you're
the only man I know who could end a date by breaking his ankle."
"She tell you we were on a date?" Johnny couldn't keep the surprise from
his voice.
"I just assumed...."
Johnny's face fell slightly. "Oh. We weren't. She lives down the hall from
me." He stopped, realizing that Brackett didn't really want the details.
"Well," Brackett hastened on, realizing how awkward he had made the young
man feel, "let's get you into your splint and on your way."
In a short while, Johnny was once more seated in the front of Annie's Mustang,
his crutches poking between the bucket seats comfortingly.
"This will sound stupid," Annie began as she negotiated a left-hand turn,
"but are you in pain?"
Johnny glanced at her sharply, his heart leaping into his throat. "No," he
managed around the lump there.
"Oh, good."
Johnny's heart slipped back into place.
"Um..." Annie glanced at him without turning her head, and Johnny flushed.
"I don't usually do this, but...." She hesitated.
"What?" Johnny's heart started its hammering routine again.
"Well..." She took a breath. "I was wondering if you'd let me fix you dinner
tonight. Nothing fancy," she rushed on. "Probably just some spaghetti or
something simple."
Johnny's heart flooded his stomach again.
"I mean, if you don't have other plans."
"Oh, no, I don't--" He stopped. Brenda! His heart floated back into place.
"Well, I did have plans--"
"Well, I don't want to interfere. Another time, maybe." Her tone seemed a
tad less friendly.
Johnny sighed. Just his luck.
They said their goodbyes as they entered the small apartment building, and
Johnny fumbled his way back into his apartment, tossing his keys onto the
kitchen counter. He rummaged in the refrigerator for a minute, finally pouring
himself a large glass of milk and washing down the mild pain killer Brackett
had given him.
He rummaged a little more, his mouth watering at the memory of the promised
spaghetti dinner, sighed, and made his way into the living room and the
phone.
"Brenda? Hi, it's Johnny....Well, that's why I called, actually. I, uh, had
a sort of an accident this afternoon....Well, I fell off a ladder, and I
broke my ankle...No, I wasn't at work, I was helping my landlady...No, it's
not that at all...What do you mean, this happens all the time? It does not....Oh,
yeah, I forgot about that....Well, what about....Oh, that time, too....No,
I understand, yeah. Right....Okay, you, too."
He replaced the phone with a grunt. After another minute or so, he levered
himself from the sofa where he had so recently deposited himself, crutched
his way to the door, and swung down that hallway to Annie's apartment.
The door opened to his knock, but it was not Annie who stood there. Instead,
a tall, tan, and very well-muscled man stood there.
"Uh...is Annie home?" Johnny struggled to make his voice sound normal.
The man shook his head. "She went out," he answered, narrowing his eyes at
Johnny. "Do I know you?"
Johnny shifted backwards involuntarily. "I...uh, I live down the hall." He
jerked his head. "Uh, well, just tell Annie that John stopped by. I'll see
ya."
He turned away rapidly, almost tripping himself as he swung around. He hurried
back toward his own apartment, not sure if he were grateful or not for the
sound of the slamming door behind him.
He slammed his own door once he made it back inside, threw himself onto the
sofa and tossed the crutches angrily aside.
Just his luck.
Thanks to Rose and Susan for the quick edits, and especially to Jesseroo,
just for being you!