Okay, this should be interesting.
I know her first and last name.
“Date of birth?” I ask.
She gives me the information along with her legal address.
“I also need your insurance information.”
Bristol digs into her pocket for her phone and shoves it at me.
“It’s under the case.”
I unclasp the case, and behind it are her insurance card and her identification.
“Bristol,” the triage nurse calls her first name, and I push her in the wheelchair into the small room.
“You can fill out the rest of the forms out there,” the triage nurse informs me while ushering me out of the room and closing the door behind them.
I take a seat, copying the insurance information over and putting my name down as one of her emergency contacts.
I stare at the box beneath my name. Relationship to patient.
Boyfriend won’t suffice. They’ll never let me back if I don’t put I’m a blood relative. Husband? We’re not wearing wedding bands, and she barely looks eighteen.
I opt for brother, which may or may not end well for me.
This whole night is a disaster in the making.
Besides, Bristol already hates me, which at least makes a sibling relationship believable in this place.
I fill out as much as I can and wait for Bristol, in case she has any allergies or other medical information to include on the forms. I certainly don’t know the date of her last period or all of her current symptoms.
I marked the obvious one: fainting.
Waiting for Bristol, I play with her phone, trying her month and date to unlock her device.
Bingo.
That was way too easy.
She’ll end me if she realizes I have access to her phone. I scroll through her contacts and land on Dad.
I know she’s close with her parents, at least I’ve seen her at games with her father recently.
Yes, she asked me not to contact anyone, but that was before we went to the emergency room. Besides, won’t he see the bill? Isn’t it better for him to know what’s going on with his daughter?
I send myself his contact information before messaging him from my phone.
Liam: Hi, I’m friends with your daughter, Bristol. She fainted this afternoon on campus. I drove her to the ER. I’ll stay with her and keep you updated.
Within seconds, my phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Is Bristol okay?” Kyler’s voice is filled with concern. I recognize it from the press conferences I’ve seen of him on television.
I’ve always imagined what it’d be like to talk to an NHL player. I never thought it’d be over the phone, discussing his daughter’s health.