“Ben?” Priya asks, her kohl-rimmed eyes wide with shock.
Ben? Like Ben, Ben?
Priya’s Ben? Her ex-something, Ben?
It’s true what they say that sometimes New York is like a small town, but if there’s ever a time to run into an ex, doing it with professional hair and makeup might be the best possible option.
“Priya?” He looks down at his chart and then back up at her, equally shocked, like he’s waking up from autopilot mode and didn’t register her name when he read it.
“Erm . . .” He stumbles before stalling out.
The three of us swivel our heads back and forth between Ben and Priya.
“I can get you another doctor if you want,” he says eventually, “but you’d probably have to wait.”
“No, it’s fine,” she tells him. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”
“Maybe your friends could step out for a moment so I can perform an exam?”
Over Ben’s shoulder, I give Priya a questioning look, and she returns a subtle nod. “We’ll be in the waiting room when you’re done,” I tell them.
* * *
? ? ?
?We’re lucky to find three chairs together, probably because everyone in the ER waiting room is avoiding the man sitting next to me, his finger wrapped in a blood-stained dishtowel. When he catches me looking, he confides, “Mandolin accident. That Ina makes everything look so easy, but I think I’m purely a Jeffrey from here on out.”
Twenty minutes later a nurse beelines toward us. My body tenses as I take in her panicked expression. Are things with Priya more serious than we thought? The paramedic insisted the head stabilizer was only a precaution, and they didn’t truly suspect spinal injuries.
“What are you doing out here?” the nurse asks. She crosses her arms over her chest while she waits for our answer.
I look from side to side to see if there’s anyone else she could be talking to. When she doesn’t budge, I point at myself. “Me? Us?”
“Yes, you. Who else would I be talking to?” She cocks a hand on her hip like a stern schoolmarm. “You were supposed to be here at six. You’re late.”
“Excuse me?” Unless she’s psychic, there’s no way she was expecting us.
“You are the theater troupe, right?” she asks in an annoyed tone. “You’re supposed to be on the children’s wing, not down here. Your show was supposed to start after dinner. The kids are on a strict schedule and need to start getting ready for bed.”
“What?” I ask, confused. Beside me, Finn and Theo have their heads tipped together and have dissolved in a fit of church giggles. When I look over at them, it hits me. I completely forgot what we’re wearing. Finn in his rainbow eye makeup and matching cape, Theo with his powdered wig, his crown resting in his lap, and me in my ball gown. I snort-laugh imagining how we must look to everyone else in the waiting room; no wonder everyone is giving us a wide berth.
“Contrary to what our outfits might lead you to believe, we are not the theater troupe. Just some stylish citizens.” Theo pops out of his chair to explain. He offers her a mock bow and his wig comes sliding off his head.
“I mean, we could be the theater troupe . . . ,” Finn counters.
I elbow him in the side. “We’re waiting for Priya.”
“Fine, we’re not the theater troupe,” he corrects himself.
The nurse narrows her eyes, trying to figure out if this is some weird “Who’s on First” bit. Before she can decide, Dr. Ben swoops in and offers to bring us back to see Priya. Theo throws the confused nurse a wave over his shoulder as we follow Ben out of the waiting area.
“It’s broken,” Priya announces when we walk into her cubicle. “We need to wait for ortho to come and put on a cast and then we can go. I’m going to be in it for at least eight weeks.”
“That sucks,” I offer.
“Maybe Dr. Ben will give you some private care to nurse you back to health,” Theo suggests, waggling his eyebrows.
“Yeah, what’s Dr. Ben’s deal? I didn’t know he was back in the city.” Finn plops himself at the foot of the bed, ready for a gossip session.
“His deal is he broke up with me two weeks ago. Again. That’s his deal.”
“Wait, what? Why didn’t we hear about this?” I ask. “I didn’t know you started things up again, never mind that you broke up.” If we never heard about it, it couldn’t have been that serious. Embarrassing to run into him given the circumstances, sure. But not that serious.
“You didn’t hear about it because none of you ever ask me about my life!” she explodes, her face reddening as she throws her arms up to emphasize her point, accidentally causing a cascade of empty coffee cups to tumble off the side table.
“That’s not true,” I shoot back. Even with everything else in my life up in the air—my relationship with David, my job, maybe even my apartment—there’s one thing I’m certain of, and it’s that I’m a great friend. These are my people and I pride myself on being there for them. According to David, to the detriment of our relationship. How could Priya even think to accuse me of being a bad friend?
“You don’t! All month it’s been Christmas this and Christmas that. How can we make this stupid day perfect for Finn?” Priya swings her attention to Finn at the end of the bed. “And you!”
“Me?” he asks in a small voice. He’s right to be scared. It’s like a dam has broken in Priya and an entire friendship’s worth of anger is seeping out the crack.
“You’re as bad as she is. ‘Is Hannah mad at me for moving?’ ‘I don’t want to leave Hannah alone on Christmas.’ You’re all so obsessed with this stupid holiday.”
“It’s not stupid!” I’m so surprised by this ambush that my brain isn’t firing quickly enough to refute anything but the last, least-serious accusation.
A hush settles over the room.
“What are we even doing here?” Priya asks after a minute.
Theo rushes to her side. “You fell, don’t you remember?” He looks at me with panic in his eyes. “Should I get Dr. Ben? I googled it in the cab and memory loss could be a sign of a concussion. Did you hit your head when you fell?”
“Oh my god, calm down!” Priya says, shoving his hands off her shoulder. “I don’t have memory loss. I’m just saying, we shouldn’t have done Christmas in the first place this year.”
I wonder if she has a point. This is the third year in a row that Christmas has ended in disaster. But my brain keeps cycling back to something she said a minute ago. “We never ask about your life?”
“Literally never,” she confirms.
“If that’s true, which I still don’t think it is, it’s only because you’re so normal and . . . happy?” Finn adds the last word like it tastes strange in his mouth.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t have any problems! I’m sorry I can’t compete with you in the trauma Olympics, but sometimes my life sucks, too. Ben dumped me for the millionth time, and oh yeah, last week I got fired.”