She Cried Wolf

Chapter Ten: Eilidh (aye-lee)

When I leave the clinic, it's with a brace on my foot, a note in my pocket reminding me when my next appointment is, and with Tolver's hand placed steadfast on my lower back.

I'm not sure how her time waiting for me was spent, but when I re-enter the sterile little room she's standing, arms folded across her chest, and for a moment her face is absolutely thunderous. I'm taken aback, because at that moment, she reminds me of Blaine at his worst. However, when her eyes meet mine, the lines deep in her face smooth, and she's back to the person I've begun to recognize as a possible friend. She greets me with a large, toothy grin and I can't help but return it. When I try to turn towards Doreen to ask about my upcoming appointment, Tolver gently places her hand on my back, steering me instead towards the door.

"But I still need to confirm my appointment, and see about setting up a payment plan-" I start, but Tolver just shakes her head.

"That's already taken care of, on days like this, when the clinic is so empty, those little details are taken care of during the appointments," she explains, and something about her tone strikes me as odd. As does the fact that she won't exactly meet my eyes when she says it.

"Even the payment plan?" I ask, incredulous. I figure that's the kind of thing they'd need me present for. Tolver just laughs, though she still doesn't look me in the eye.

"Today's visit was free, since it was an emergency," I try to cut in and remind her that it was, in fact, not an emergency, but before I get the chance, she continues, "And as for the upcoming visits, all inoculations in Stoneridge are free. It's an initiative the last Mayor started."

"Wow," I say, more than a little shocked, and extremely impressed. A small-town in rural America with basically free healthcare? Where the hell am I? If my mom had been in a town like this, maybe they could've caught the cancer earlier- or helped provide care to prevent some risk factors. The thought settles like a heavy blanket on my shoulders.

The rest of the day flows easily enough between Tolver and I. The town center of Stoneridge is all white plaster and oak boards, reminding me more of the small alpine towns hidden away in the European Mountains that I've caught glimpses of in movies and T.V.. No way this can be rural Michigan. But it is, and I feel a warmth glow in my chest at every new and strange sight. Tolver seems uniquely pleased at my awe, puffing out her chest as she gives me a proper tour of the place she calls home. Unfortunately, it's slow going, what with my injuries and lingering paranoia. More than once I hesitate, feeling far too exposed in the misty sunlight. My body struck to stone momentarily by the all-too familiar feeling of unfriendly eyes burning into my back. Tolver either doesn't notice these moments, or she, rather mercifully, chooses to ignore them. She also doesn't acknowledge the rubbernecked passersby we encounter. I note that many of them look to the ground the moment they catch sight of my companion, as if on instinct, and then almost always they turn back to look at her the moment she's moved on. Maybe she's used to being stared at. She's pretty difficult to ignore, being taller than any woman I've ever met, topped with more muscles than the average lumberjack to boot. I mean, even my eyes are drawn to her like magnets to metal. But the gazes of these strangers feels different, and their obvious gawking grates on me. Why can't they just mind their own business? I know logically she feels at home here, and that doesn't mean people aren't going to stare, but do they have to be so obvious about it? She's just another person, and while I figure many of these looks are born of curiosity, I bristle at the thought that someone in this town could be judging Tolver. Don't they know not to judge a book by its cover? Though, admittedly, you'd be hard pressed to find a cover more stunning than Tolver's.

We pop in at a few stores to get me the essentials, and I insist on staying by the clearance racks, determined to not find myself too thoroughly indebted to my new friend. You already owe her your life, let's not add several hundred dollars to the pile. Even so, I still linger inside these small boutiques. I feel less vulnerable, hidden in the aisles of the mom-and-pop shops, especially since the strangers in these stores are too engrossed in their own shopping to pay me or my companion any extra attention.