For Christmas, Sean bought me yards of cute fun fabric (including this wrestling mask print), and I got him a skateboard. He actually selected the board, trucks, wheels, and bearings, designing it specifically to go fast around the hills in our neighborhood. The guy at the skate shop assembled it, and then I paid for it. They packed and boxed it up, and then we took it home where I wrapped the whole shebang in Christmas paper and set it under the tree.
The Monday after Christmas, we were up and about, lazily considering our breakfast options and discussing what we would have that morning.
“I can make eggs and potatoes,” Sean offered. “But we’re out of eggs.”
“I don’t feel like driving,” I said. “Do you feel like going to the store?”
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll go.”
It didn’t occur to me at that point in time that he didn’t put up a fuss, because usually he disliked driving to the store as much as I did. If I’d thought about it, that would have been a red flag that he was up to something. But I didn’t, and I kept sewing, or knitting, or scrolling through Facebook, which are usually my top three activities to do when I’m sitting around the house on my day off from work.
About forty-five minutes passed, and I thought it was pretty strange that he was taking so long to make the one mile down to the supermarket and back. But I wasn’t too worried. He’d probably chosen to drive to another local grocery store a few more miles away. Several more minutes passed, and then he was coming in through the front door with his backpack and baseball cap on, looking sweaty and suspiciously like somebody who did not just drive his car to the store.
“What’d you do?” I said. “Ride your bike?”
“No.” He started unzipping his backpack to remove the groceries. “I took the skateboard.”
That’s when I noticed the side of his pants looked like they’d just been dragged through the street at about twenty-five miles per hour. “Did you take a spill?”
“Yeah, it’s no big deal… Look! The eggs aren’t broken!”
He made us breakfast (a really good meal of over-medium eggs with country-style fried potatoes), and then I went back to doing my thing and he decided to watch one of his Netflix DVDs. The movie was only halfway through when he got up and said, “I kind of am actually in a little pain.”
I stopped the sewing machine. “Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”
“No… But maybe to Urgent Care.”
We went to Urgent Care and sure enough… the eggs weren’t broken, but he couldn’t say the same for his elbow.