A wave of nausea washed over me, and I folded to my knees, burying my face in the musty-smelling gold rug. My stomach heaved, and up came last night’s coffee, bitter-tasting green bile, and, finally, nothing but hacking sobs. Repulsed by my own vomit, I staggered to my feet overcome by an urge to flee, to lock myself in my apartment, pretend none of this had ever happened, and leave Margery there for some passer-by to find. But I couldn’t do it. I had to go down, cover her body, and call 911. Remains of the sour taste of vomit stung my throat as I wobbled over to the window, rested my hands on the dry, splintered wood, and forced myself to look out. Surprised, I dug my fingernails into the wood of the sill to keep from jerking back. …show more content…
“That’s it? You’ll blackmail even a relative?” Margery didn’t believe for a minute that I’d pushed her, but after all these years of looking out for number one, she’d become a skilled opportunist. I heard another door slam and a scrawny teen in an over-sized letter jacket tumbled out of the car with the flashers on. Excitement made his voice shrill, and it carried easily up to the fire escape. “I was driving by when I heard glass breaking. I looked up and saw the old lady come through the window.” Old lady. Ordinarily, Margery would cringe to hear herself described that way, but right now she had more important things on her mind. Like blackmail. Now the medics were clambering up the fire escape carrying what looked like a flame-orange, concave surfboard, in actuality a stretcher designed for navigating difficult terrain. The lead medic was hatless, his hair cut so close I could see his pink scalp through it, and so tremendously fit he looked like he should be on a recruiting poster. His partner had a square nylon bag slung over his shoulder full of medical tricks that could do everything from revive a seemingly dead junkie with Narcan to inflate an air splint for Marjory’s …show more content…
Like falling out a window, I meant to imply. I don’t think he caught my subtle meaning, however, because his partner had commenced inflating an air splint around Margery’s leg and—a typical drunken accident victim—she let forth a volley of curses and swung at him. …around Margery’s leg, and she let forth a volley of curses and swung at him. That’s when I noticed she still had part of the torn fifty in her hand. Even in agony, she wasn’t letting go of any money. During one of her wilder swings I snatched it from her hand. “I’ll return this to its rightful owner.” She would’ve fought me, but at that moment the medics grabbed her by the clothing, and with a swift, practiced move, scooped her into the stretcher. As they lifted the board to take her down the fire escape, she turned to me, eyes watering and breath coming in quick pants. In spite of everything, she managed to smile. Relieved, I smiled, too. No hard feelings. Just a terrible accident. Her smile slid into an ugly, self-satisfied smirk. “You think I’m dumb, don’t