Pain. I can’t think about anything else but how horrible I feel. My head is throbbing. Everything hurts. And I can’t see very well out of my left eye. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, not a tiny baseball.
Tony has been by my side since I was brought to the hospital. He and Kirsten, one of my roommates, rode in the ambulance with me. They are the ones who dragged me to the game. Said it was all part of the celebration they had planned for me landing my first big modeling job.
As my pain meds start to kick in, I begin wondering why they chose to take me there. I don’t even like baseball. Kirsten—she’s the baseball fan. She and Tony. Why didn’t they take me to SoHo or something?
Oh, my God! My job! My hand comes up to touch my tender face that feels about twice its normal size. I look around the room and then at Tony. “I need a mirror,” I say.
He winces and shakes his head. “Babe, you don’t want to see it. It’ll only upset you.”
Tears escape my eyes, burning the left side of my face where I got stitches. I guess the numbing medication is wearing off. “Is it that bad?” I ask.
Tony stares at me for a second and then looks away. He doesn’t have to answer me, I can tell by the look on his face that it’s bad.
There’s a knock on the door and then the door opens. “Miss Cavenaugh,” says a tall man in a white lab coat. “I’m Dr. Benson. I have the results of your CT scan. Shall I go over them with you now?” He looks from me to Tony with raised eyebrows.
“Yes. It’s okay, he’s my boyfriend.”
“Alright then,” Dr. Benson says, walking around my bed. “You have a zygomaxillary fracture. That’s a fancy way of saying you broke your cheekbone.”
I sigh. “It’s broken?”
“Yes. There are two kinds of breaks. Displaced and non-displaced. With non-displaced breaks, they heal on their own. But …”
I can hear in his voice that I don’t have that kind of fracture. “But that’s not the one I have, is it?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“What does that mean?” I ask. “I can’t wear a cast on my face. How do you fix it?”
“Surgery.”
“Surgery?” I gasp. “On my face? But I’m a model. I—I can’t … this can’t be happening.”
I look over at Tony to see him shaking his head. He looks as upset as I am. “What does the surgery entail?” he asks the doctor. “And how long before she can go back to work?”
Dr. Benson flashes a weak smile. “I’ll do an open reduction and internal fixation with a titanium plate and screws.”
“Oh, my God!” My hand comes up to muffle my cry.
“How big a scar will she have?” Tony asks, now pacing the small hospital room.
“It looks a lot worse than it is. There’s a lot of swelling, and it will get worse for the next twenty-four hours before it starts to get better. That’s why we’ll wait at least a week to do the surgery.”
“A week? But I’m supposed to start my job next Thursday.” I look up at the doctor, hoping this is all some sick joke. A prank. A twisted dream.
“I’m sorry, Miss Cavenaugh, but I’m afraid if you’re a model, you won’t be able to work for some time.”
Tony kicks the side of a chair and then curses under his breath. Then he repeats his question. “How big a scar, Dr. Benson?”
“The scar from the surgery itself won’t be very noticeable. I’ll go in through an incision on your hairline, back by your ear. It’s probably the scar from your laceration that will cause you the most concern. But if you use sunscreen and take vitamin E, your scar should fade to a pale pink line after a few months or so. Then you will likely be able to cover it with makeup.”
“Months?” I cry.
“What if she doesn’t have the surgery?” Tony asks. “I mean, maybe it will just heal on its own.”
The doctor shakes his head. “A displaced fracture means the bone fragments have shifted. With that comes the risk of impingement of the lower muscles of the eye.”
“As in her face will droop or something?” Tony asks in horror.
“Possibly. That and a lot of other painful things she won’t want to deal with.” Dr. Benson turns back to me. “You need the surgery, Miss Cavenaugh. There really is no other option.”
Months. The word floats around in my head as I try to wrap my mind around it. In the matter of one day, my life has changed exponentially. It went from nothing special, to phenomenal, to a pile of crap—all within the last twelve hours. It was just this morning when I got the call that I’d been given my first big modeling job. I was going to be the fresh new face of a high-end clothing line.
And now, this. My face is anything but fresh and new. I’ll lose my job. They won’t wait for me to heal. Nobody will hire a girl with a scar when there are so many other beautiful women with perfect complexions.
What will I do? How will I pay the rent?
I look up at Tony. “Do you think Joe will hire me back?”
I quit my waitressing job the minute I found out I got the modeling gig. Actually, I didn’t really quit as much as I just didn’t show up for work today. Then I stupidly let one of my roommates answer Joe’s text with some snarky remarks about how I was going to be rich and famous, and that working at a—what was it she said—hole-in-the-wall diner, was beneath me.
Tony raises a sorrowful eyebrow at me. He read the text.
I blow out a long breath. Maybe my roommates will help me out for a while. Surely they will understand that I can’t work like this. Then again, most of them are living paycheck-to-paycheck just as I am.
Who am I kidding? I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them ended up with the job I am about to lose. My roommates are all self-centered witches. They wouldn’t raise a finger to help a sister out if she were drowning.
I only live with them because I have no choice. Coming from Iowa six months ago, I didn’t know anyone. It only made sense to connect with others who were also trying to make it in modeling. And at twenty-three, I’m the oldest of the five girls who share the small two-bedroom apartment in the Lower East Side.
They all acted excited when I got the call this morning. But they are terrible actresses. They weren’t excited for me at all. In fact, I heard Kirsten, Tori, and Pauline talking in the bathroom. They were wondering how an ‘old lady’ like me could get a job like that. One of them, I think it was Tori, said I must have slept with someone to get it, which makes her a hypocrite seeing as she’s slept with half of New York City. Jamie was the only one who seemed genuinely happy for me. But maybe that’s because she got a great contract of her own last week.
“Do you have any other questions for me?” Dr. Benson asks.
“You said I can’t have the surgery until next week? Do I have to stay here until then?”
“We need to wait for the swelling to go down before we do surgery. You’ll stay here for a night or two and then I’ll see you on an outpatient basis until the surgery. Then after the surgery, you’ll stay another couple of nights.”
“That sounds expensive,” I say.
He looks at my chart. “You have insurance, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”
I’m still on my mom’s policy. She’s going to freak when she finds out about this. She’ll insist I come back to Iowa. It’s not going to happen. I refuse to go back a failure. And besides, there is nothing for me there. Not anymore.
I decide not to tell her. I figure she won’t get the bills for a month or so. By then, maybe I can get another job.
“I’ll check on you tomorrow,” Dr. Benson says. He starts to walk out of the room, but then turns around, looking very fatherly. “I know it seems like the end of the world now, Murphy, but it’s not. Bones will heal. Scars will fade. It’s what you take away from this experience that will help define you as a person. Don’t let it break you.”
I nod as tears roll down my face, wishing I still had my own dad to give me words of wisdom.
Tony checks his phone and heads toward the door. “I have some things I need to take care of. You get some sleep and I’ll catch you later, ‘kay?”
I look at the clock on the wall above the door. It’s not even eight o’clock. But he’s been here for hours. A lot has happened and he must be exhausted. It’s not until after he leaves that I realize he didn’t kiss me goodbye. I guess he didn’t want to risk hurting me.
I wonder if they’ll give me more pain meds so I can sleep. So I don’t have to think about what I will do when I wake up in the morning with a face as big as a watermelon. So I don’t lie here and feel so broken.