Chapter Four: Bubblegum and Butterflies by Lynette Ferreira
Her mother paced near the window. Her heels were clicking
sharply against the tiled floor. “I told you, Charlize. I told you to always
watch where you’re walking.” Mrs. van der Merwe’s voice was high pitched and
frantic. Her fingers trembled as she clutched her designer handbag to her
chest.
“Annemarie, she’s hurt,” her father interjected. His tone
was heavy with restrained anguish as he stood beside the door, arms crossed. “She
doesn’t need a lecture right now.”
Charlize winced, partly from pain but mostly from the
tension filling the room. “Mom, it wasn’t my fault,” she muttered. Her voice
was tight, and she felt frustrated. “Some idiot on a skateboard—”
“An idiot?” More like a delinquent,” Annemarie cut in. Her
eyes narrowed just thinking about it. “That boy could have killed you,
Charlize. He should be expelled. Or, even better, arrested.”
Charlize sighed and shifted uncomfortably. She wished the doctor
would come so that they could get this over with.
Her dad ran a hand down his face and his fingers brushed against his neatly trimmed beard. His shoulders slumped. “This is why I wanted you to go to that private school over in Kimberley,” he said quietly. His voice was strained. “It’s not too far to drive there and back every day—”
“Charlize look at your arm,” Annemarie spoke over her dad and gestured toward the
swollen limb in the sling. Her voice cracked when she asked, “What if it doesn’t
heal properly? What if—”
“Mom,” Charlize interrupted. She was trying to stay calm
despite the anxiety clawing at her chest. Especially now that her dad had
brought up his persistent private school idea again. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a
broken arm, and not the end of the world.”
Her mother’s eyes filled with tears, and she turned away,
dabbing at her face with a tissue. Annemarie did not like to show any
vulnerability. “I can’t stand to see you hurt.”
The door opened, and a nurse stepped in. She gave Charlize a
bright professional smile.
A middle-aged doctor followed her in. “Alright, Charlize,”
the doctor began. His voice was steady and reassuring. “The X-rays confirmed
that it’s a clean break in your radius. We’ll set the bone and get a cast on.
You’ll need to wear it for about six weeks.”
Charlize swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay.”
“Will it heal completely?” her dad asked. His voice was
tinged with concern.
“Yes, absolutely,” the doctor assured him. “With proper
care, there shouldn’t be any long-term issues.”
Mrs. van der Merwe exhaled sharply but stayed silent as the nurse helped Charlize lay her arm on a cushioned
surface.
“This might be a little uncomfortable,” the nurse said
kindly.
Charlize clenched her teeth as the doctor began the process
of aligning her radius bone. The sudden pain was sharp and electric, it radiated up her arm and into her shoulder.
Her mother gasped audibly, covering her mouth quickly to
stifle the sound.
Her dad stepped closer to Charlize and placed a comforting
hand on her shoulder. “You’re so brave,” he murmured.
“Yeah. Real brave,” Charlize muttered through gritted teeth.
Her sarcasm masked the pain.
Once the bone was set, the nurse moved quickly. She wrapped
her arm in soft padding and then the damp strips of plaster that would harden
into a cast.
“What colour would you like for the outer layer?” the nurse
asked, trying to brighten the mood in the room.
Charlize hesitated and glanced at her mom whose lips were
pressed into a thin line, and then at her dad who managed a small shrug to accompany his encouraging
smile.
“Pink,” Charlize said finally, her voice barely above a
whisper.
“Pink, it is,” the nurse said cheerfully as she selected a
roll from the cart.
As the nurse wrapped the pink layer over the cast, her
mother spoke up again, There was a tremble in her voice. “You’ll have to stay
home from school tomorrow, and you won’t be able to make it to Sarah’s party
this weekend.”
“What? No,” Charlize protested. “Mom, I can still go. It’s
just my arm.”
“Charlize, don’t argue,” her dad said firmly although his
tone lacked its usual authority. “Your health comes first.”
After your grades, her mind added rebelliously.
“All done,” the nurse said, and gave Charlize a sympathetic
look.
“Thank you,” Charlize said before glaring at the cast as if
it had personally offended her. She felt trapped. Not just in the stiff pink
plaster but in the weight of her parent’s expectations and worry.
Her mom’s gaze fixed on Charlize’s cast as if it symbolised everything that she could not protect her daughter from.
Charlize sighed as she shifted her focus to the window. She watched the sunlight fade behind the hills that surrounded the small town, and a deep ache settled on her chest that had little to do with her arm.
