Oreos for Breakfast: Chapter 28

Oreos For Breakfast: Chapter 35
By the Paperbag Princess and Pumpkin Coach

I saw the tree coming. I just couldn't get out of the way.

Why did they leave trees on ski slopes, anyway? Fuck, we were already destroying the landscape with the trails and the lift and all that crap, get the trees out of the way, too.

The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground, my skis underneath me, trying to breathe.

Ow.

"Rachel!" Ben said, stopping with a flourish in front of me. I hated how he did that. He made stopping look so damn easy. "Did the tree come up and hit you?"

I tried to roll over to see him, but my skis were all tangled up, so I settled for just glaring at him. "Shut up."

He was biting back laughter. I could see that. Jerk. "Sorry, honey. Here, let me give you a hand."

He offered his hand, but I just looked at it. That wasn't going to help. I had two stupid pieces of wood on my feet that were preventing me from doing anything but lying here.

It was cold and wet. I couldn't lie here on the mountain forever.

Spring would come eventually, right? The snow would melt and I could just walk down.

Ben could tell I was annoyed, and he kneeled down, taking one of my legs and untangling my skis. "Sorry. Here, get them on the ground again and I'll help you up."

I rolled over and Ben got my skis on the ground, my knees bent, and I screamed. I didn't realize it hurt until I moved it.

"Shit," he said, helping me straighten out my knees again. "Which knee is it?"

"Either the one on the side that hit the tree or the one that took the fall. Maybe both. I just…" I heard my voice break and I told myself not to cry. How the hell was I going to get off this mountain if my knees didn't work?

"It hurts," I managed. "Can I get these damn skis off?"

Ben was holding my legs off the ground because I couldn't bend my knees.

"Are you alright, ma'am?"

I looked up at an older man with a 'ski patrol' jacket on. Where was my cute ski bunny guy?

Were guys ski bunnies? Or were those only girls?

Nick never would have made me go skiing. He preferred warm weather activities.

Really should not be thinking about Nick now. I needed to get off this fucking mountain.

"Not really," I admitted.

"I think she hurt her knee," Ben told him, and the ski patrol guy nodded, pulling out a walkie talkie and mumbling something into it.

"Alright. We'll get a board up here and get you off the mountain."

"Can I take my skis off, then? They're just in the way now."

I'd just been sorta getting used to them. I didn't love skiing, but today I wasn't hating it so much. It was fun in those moments when things were going right.

Ben got my skis off and Mr. Cole bent my legs back carefully, and I didn't scream this time. "Doesn't seem like anything's broken," he said, and I relaxed a little.

"Probably just bruised. Thanks."

An hour later, they let me leave the ski lodge, after poking me all over to see if anything was broken. The patrollers wanted me to go to the hospital, but that was the last thing I wanted.

"Rachel, really," Ben said, walking me to the car. I wasn't moving very fast.

"Really, Ben, I'm fine. I just want to go back to the house and lie down for a while. Maybe take a hot bath to relax my muscles."

"That might make it worse."

"Make what worse? I might bruise up a little. I'm okay. I don't want to go to the hospital. They will tell me that nothing's broken."

"What if you have a concussion?"

"I won't go to sleep. They don't do anything for concussions. Just tell you not to sleep for a couple of hours."

"I'd feel better if you went to the hospital."

"I'd feel better if I didn't."

He took me anyway. I didn't realize what he was doing until he pulled into the parking lot. "No," I said.

"You need to be checked out by a doctor."

"Why? The patrollers said I was fine."

"They're ski patrollers! They've had first aid courses. They're not medical doctors."

"Fuck the doctors. I'm fine. I do not want to sit in the fucking emergency room for two hours for some fucking intern to tell me that I'm fine."

"I don't want to take you home and worry that something might be really wrong."

"You laughed at me when I first went down. You know it wasn't a big deal."

"I didn't laugh at you!"

I arched an eyebrow at his revisionist history. He hadn't gotten worried until I screamed. "I'm not going in there," I told him.

"You're going in there if I have to drag you."

"Try it."

He slammed out of the car and yanked open my door. "Get out," he said, and I didn't look at him.

"I'm fine, Ben."

"Rachel…" he started, his tone angry, then he sighed. "Please," he said finally. "I promise. It's a little hospital in a ski town, not the middle of Manhattan. We will be in and out of there in an hour."

"Or I could have been in bed twenty fucking minutes ago."

I wanted my bed. Preferably at the Point house, but I'd take my bed in the City. I wanted my bed and my cat and a cup of tea. I just needed to be alone and quiet for half an hour, then I'd feel better.

I'd been on the damn mountain, then had the joy of a ride on a stretcher, then three strangers poking at me for an hour. None of that made me feel any better. I was sore and exhausted and miserable. I did not want to sit in an emergency room for even an hour.

"You're being ridiculous, Rachel. You need to see a doctor."

I knew I wasn't going to win this fight. He had the fucking car keys. I didn't even want to go home with him right now. I just wanted to be alone.

I slid out of the car and stalked towards the doors.

Stalked as much as my knee would allow. There were three other people waiting, and I took a seat, picking up a magazine. "If you want me here, you can deal with the paperwork," I said, not even looking at him.

He did. He told the nurse what had happened and filled out most of the paperwork. I had my insurance card with me, zipped up in the inside pocket of my ski coat, because I'd figured something like this could happen. I answered his questions in monosyllables, focusing on old gossip magazines. One of them had a picture of me and Nick at dinner in LA last spring, and I wanted to show it to Ben, just to see if it would piss him off.

When I'd passed out at the Grammys last year, Nick hadn't made me go to the hospital. He just took me home.

Okay, he and James had ended up in a fight with a photographer, and we'd had a big fight about that the next day, but… whatever. I hadn't spent any time in a hospital, because Nick had understood that I was fine.

An hour and a half later, they finally called me into the examination room. I let Ben come with me, because if I'd told him not to, I'd have to speak to him.

Then he did all of the talking to the doctor, and I just let him. I got an x-ray of my knee and ankle, and finally they told me to take a hot bath with Epsom salts and wrap my knee.

Three hours later, we were in the car. "That wasn't so bad," Ben said, and I didn't even look at him.

"Am I still getting the silent treatment?"

"You won't listen to whatever I have to say, so why should I talk?"

"I was just worried. I wanted to make sure you're okay. I don't know why that's such a crime."

"I'm fine. The doctor told me to go home and do exactly what I wanted to do three fucking hours ago."

"But you're not a doctor, Rachel."

"Whatever. Can we get some lunch?" It was four in the afternoon, and I'd fallen on one of our last runs before lunch. I was starving.

"Why don't we go home and have lunch and I'll get you settled, then go out and get the Epsom salts and something to wrap your knee?"

Maybe I'd get half an hour to myself then. His friends didn't usually get back from the slopes until after six.

"Fine," I said.

We drove back to the house in silence, and I turned on the TV while he made us sandwiches. He brought our lunch into the living room, and I considered my sandwich before taking a bite.

Hadn't he figured out that I hated mayonnaise?

I took off the top piece of bread and scraped the mayonnaise off on the side of my plate. Ben just watched me, then sighed and turned back to the TV. We ate in silence, then he cleaned up our dishes and grabbed the car keys. "I'll get Epsom salts and some more Tylenol. Need anything else?"

I just shrugged, flipping through the channels.

"I'm going to give Steve a call and see if anyone wants to come home on my way back. They won't all fit in his car."

We had taken one of the two cars at the slopes.

So that meant when he came home, he'd have other people with him.

Maybe I should just leave. I did not want to be with any of these people. They weren't my friends. I wanted my own bed and my cat and my house.

But it was a three hour drive back to New York, and I felt tears in my eyes just thinking about it. I'd suffer tonight and go home tomorrow.

"Fine," I said, and Ben just sighed again and left.

Finally. Blessed silence. I clicked off the TV and just sat on the couch for a minute, staring at the wall. When I sat absolutely still, nothing hurt. That was good.

But these clothes were too warm and I was sick of them. With some effort, I went into our bedroom and pulled on my flannel pajamas, leaving my ski clothes in a pile on the floor. I found my cell phone and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin.

"Hi, Mommy," I said when she answered.

"Hi, sweetie. How's skiing?"

"It sucks. I ran into a tree today."

"Oh, no!" She sounded properly upset by that. "Are you okay? Did you see a doctor?"

"Yes. Ben made me."

"Good. I'm glad you got checked out."

"I was fine. I didn't need to go to the emergency room."

"I'm glad he took you. Otherwise I'd just be telling you to go."

I blinked back tears. Wasn't anyone on my side? Didn't anyone realize that I just wanted to go home?

"It took three hours for the doctor to tell me that I was fine and just needed to soak in an Epsom salt bath for a while."

"Still better to know."

"Can you be on my side for a second?" I asked. "Everything hurts, and I just wanted to be in my bed."

"Of course you did," Mom said, her voice soothing. "I'm sorry you're not having a good vacation."

"I hate skiing," I told her. I really did. I was getting out of here before anyone made me ski again.

"How are Ben's friends?"

"They're cool. We don't have a lot in common, but they're nice."

"Well, he's from a different world than you are. I'm sure you'll find something in common."

Maybe. There was a lot of drinking, and talking about work. Everyone was a lawyer or stockbroker or something high powered, and none of them really knew what to do with me. I didn't think any of the women liked me, and the guys just kept checking out my ass.

"I'm sure. It's been fine. Yesterday I took some ski lessons, and today Ben and I were out when the tree hit me."

"Is it bad? Anything broken or sprained?"

"No. Just bruises. Ben's out getting Epsom salts and Tylenol for me now. I'm supposed to wrap my knee for the next couple of days."

"So the skiing is over for this vacation?"

"I'm not terribly upset by that. Just that I'm battered and sore and tired."

"Why don't you try to get some sleep, honey? I'm sure you'll wake up in a better mood."

I was just confused when Ben sat next to me on the bed. "Rachel?" he whispered. "I know you want to sleep, but I think maybe you should take a bath first."

"What time is it?"

"Six thirty."

When did I get off the phone with Mom? Five?

I could hear voices in the house. Guess everyone was back.

I rolled over, wincing as my muscles reminded me of the day. Tree. Right.

"Everyone's going out to dinner, but I'll stay here with you."

"No," I said. "Go ahead with your friends. I'll be okay."

"I'm not sure about that."

"I can take care of myself. Did you get the bath stuff?"

"In the bathroom. The tub is filling."

"Fine."

He sighed for the millionth time and got up. "Fine. I'll go with them if you're going to keep acting like this."

"Fine."

I rolled out of bed and went into the bathroom. He'd lit candles and put something nice in with the Epsom salts. He'd even laid out clean clothes for me, sweatpants and a sweater.

"Ben?" I said, going back into the bedroom.

"What?" he asked, pulling a sweater over his head.

"I'm sorry. I know I've been acting like a total bitch all day."

"I shouldn't have made you take that run," he said, looking guilty. "It was too hard for you."

"I'm sorry I'm a lousy skier."

"I'm sorry I forced you to ski."

I hugged him. "Can our next vacation be somewhere warm?"

He laughed. "We'll just lie on the beach all day. Far less chance of injury."

"I like that idea."

He kissed the top of my head, wrapping his arms around me carefully. "I really don't want to go to dinner with everyone. We just had lunch."

"Can we lie on the couch and watch TV?"

"I bought junk food at the store. Hopefully they haven't eaten it all yet."

I looked up, kissing him. "Thank you. I'm going to get in the tub now."

"I'll get rid of my friends and join you."

"I might need help getting out."

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