Sneaky

The skies opened up on their way to the hospital.

“Honey,” Michael said, holding a cold compress to the side of his head after wiping away the blood – it seemed to be coagulating, thank God – “I think we need to postpone the party until tomorrow evening. Forecast is for thundershowers all day.”

“But of course,” Dan said. “I was going to suggest it myself. The two Jims are arriving this morning. I’m sure they’ll be okay with it, and everyone else, too.”

They reached Emory University Hospital in fifteen minutes flat and went right to the emergency room.

“Good morning,” the nurse said, her mouth round and mushy like an overripe cantaloupe, “what can I do for you boys this morning?”

“We’re here for a facial and a foot massage,” Dan said, dripping his words with as much sarcasm as he could muster. “Why do you think we’re here?”

“Everybody’s a wise guy this morning,” the nurse said, who began the laugh and cast them a smile. “Insurance card, driver’s license, credit card please. Have a seat.”

The nurse, whose tag identified her as one Donna Gertler, took forever – fifty minutes, fifty-five minutes, who knew – to enter the information. And then she asked what happened, and Michael relived the whole tail. He’d rather forget, but he had to go through it.

“No,” Nurse Gertler said. “You didn’t force it before the board came up. Insurance might reject that. And you can’t say it was the third board that hit you. It was the first, right? And when you tried to split it, it broke and hit you in the head right away, right?”

Michael looked at Dan, Dan looked at Michael, and they said in unison, “Yes, Nurse Gertler.”