She got a ride home in a dull blue Buick with a plump white woman from Paradise and her six kids. The woman’s name was Myrna Michaels and she named off her children like a roll call Louise might remember: Virgil, Vern, Velma, Vernice, Vida, Violet. The name Michaels sounded familiar to Louise but she was too tired to place it. She wished she had a cold beer. She could see the stool where she liked to sit at the Dixon Bar, the brown lip of the beer bottle, the cap hissing white. The day was hot, so hot Louise could feel tears of sweat stream her rib cage, the breath heat rising from her makeshift bandages. She could feel the sheet strips loosening from her ribs, cool and damp. Her leg was swollen in the heat. She could barely squeeze the tip of her smallest finger into the moist opening of her cast.

“Bothering you?” Myrna asked.

Louise nodded and swallowed.

“You know,” said Myrna, “I once had one of those myself. On my arm though. Saved myself the doctor bill. Utility scissors,” she said.

Louise looked at her and saw that she was smiling. The road had only a hand’s-width shoulder but Myrna banked off.

“I think Ed left his pruning shears in the trunk,” she said, getting out. “Cut through bone, those things.” The woman pulled out a large pair of clippers with a hawknosed blade. “This will just take a second.”

Louise sat still on the bench seat of the Buick, not sure what to do. She had the feeling she should run. She felt her back on the plastic seat covers swelling with heat. Before she could wrestle her crutches to stand, Myrna had shoved the beak of her shears down the inside of her cast. Louise felt the sharp scrape on the inside, more on her leg than on the plaster. She felt a sudden sharp poke. “I’m getting her,” Myrna said. But when Louise looked down she saw the opening curve of her cast blotting blood. She could feel wetness slipping to her ankle, and then a small blood bubble broke twice at the top of her cast.

“This don’t seem to be working,” Myrna said. “Awful sorry.”

Myrna’s kids had left the backseat and were running down the slope toward the river.

“Don’t be running off too far,” Myrna yelled. The children did not look back at her so she turned to Louise. “Might help to go over to the river and get cooled off.”

“I think so,” Louise said. She pulled her crutches up under her arms and stood in the sun for a minute. The sun ached at the back of her head. She could feel the stitches draw tight to her scalp. She headed down to the water. Myrna stood up on the road and waved her arms to the kids.