I ignored her as she found one reason after another to linger in my small triage room before the radiology tech showed up to take me to get x-rays for my hand. Harris and Marcus followed behind the thirty-something man with a receding hairline and nice eyes who was transporting me in a wheelchair that I’d told him I didn’t need, but he’d insisted on. He took a handful of x-rays of my hand in different positions before wheeling me back to my room. When the tech opened the door to my triage exam room, I was surprised to find my parents waiting for me. My mom wrapped me in her arms before I’d even had time to stand up. “Are you okay?” she demanded, tears shining in her chocolate-brown eyes. “Mom, I’m fine.” I tried to assure her but she was grasping my hand with fingers that trembled to examine it for herself. I bit my lip, realizing that she was so scared because this probably brought back bad memories for her of the night my biological father had taken me.
