“It would a hurt a whole lot more if the bones were out,” the policeman joked.
“Just give it a little time,” Fadi said. “It will help.”
Both Fadi and the officer stopped talking to look at Collin.
“We have to get them before five,” he continued.
“Want to take a taxi?” I asked him.
“Stay with your mom,” Fadi instructed.
“No, it’s okay,” I said. “Let him go.”
“Already called an ambulance. You’ll need to go,” the officer said, pointing at my foot.
“Go with him,” I told Fadi, motioning to Collin.
“I won’t leave you.”
“Well, there’s only room for one more anyway,” the officer said.
As Collin prepared to leave, the medics brought the gurney through the park to the dock where I waited. They lifted me and strapped me in. Then, they motioned for Fadi to follow.
“It’s probably broken. Pretty friggin’ bad, I guess,” the officer assessed.
“Maybe it’s okay,” Fadi said. “Insha’allah,” he whispered a prayer.
Once I was lifted into the ambulance, we set off, careening through the late afternoon New York City streets. Despite the pain, I started to laugh.
“What?”
“It’s like I set the whole thing up.”
“What?”
“Like the movies, isn’t it?” I asked.
And when we ended our ride at Presbyterian Hospital, Fadi agreed. “Just like the movies,” he said as the gurney crashed through the doors towards emergency.
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