Chapter 21 #2
He’s been here every day and every morning since I came “home” from the hospital. He’s the one who carried me to the toilet to pee that first day. He was the one to feed me. He even bathed me once in a genuinely humiliating debacle that I made him swear to never speak of again.
And he’s held me as I cried on more than one occasion over the absence of said “husband.” My chest burns at the memory.
“Okay,” Becks moves two fingers to take my pulse in her routine morning check. “And can you tell me how you got here?”
“Well, I was working at this diner, and this really hot guy sat down at one of my tables…” Becks shoots me a look.
This isn’t the first time I’ve tried this.
“Fine,” I say in faux-aggravation because it always pisses me off that every day I have to recount this story.
A story that had to be told to me because two months after the fact, I still have no memory of it.
“I was involved in a car accident, or so I’ve been told, and I spent three weeks in a coma, followed by an additional three weeks of mild consciousness. I suffered a traumatic brain injury, and most would say I’m lucky to be experiencing this level of recovery.”
I know I sound ungrateful, but I feel anything but. Lucky I survived so I could…so I could what? Become an obligation to the man I loved? To be tossed aside? To know that every day I will wake up in more pain than I ever did while lying in a hospital bed with a brain injury and bruised ribs?
I hate it here.
My manna from heaven has turned into hell on Earth.
Becks gives me a sad sort of smile that’s equal parts empathy and pity.
“Do you want help?” She means going to the bathroom, but I shake my head, feeling my throat grow too tight to speak.
Becks releases my wrist, typing my pulse into the chart on her phone as I roll out of bed.
Blanks is still watching from the bedroom doorway. He stands with a coffee mug in hand, leaning against the frame. He gives me the same sad smile as Becks and I want to flip him off for it.
I can’t believe I ever thought I had feelings for him. Some days, I feel ashamed of it. But then again, once he ingrained himself in my life to the point he probably knows what day I’ll start my period before I do, all I feel now…is angry.
I don’t want him to take me on as some charity project, or step in because his best friend stepped out. I know what I am to him now, and that quickly dried up any residual or lingering feelings.
I know I told Becks my goal is to make breakfast, but my goal is bigger than that. Leaving here is the real goal. To move back to my little condo. To go to school and back to work at the library. I was happy-ish then. I was healthy then. And all I want is to go back to then.
After washing my hands, I stand at the sink and stare at the waif-like being looking back at me. When I lift my shirt to change, I see ribs and bones I never knew I had before. My skin looks thin and crepey white.
I’m revolting.
I try to focus on my breath, on maintaining my calm, but all I want is to throw something heavy into the mirror to shatter the image of who I am. Of what I’ve become.
“Em?” Becks knocks on the bathroom door.
“I’m coming, just a minute,” I try to say back politely while silently sniffing the tears away.
Leaning towards the door, I check in the off chance Blanks and Becks are still in the room, and they are. The faint conversation sounds pleasant. Maybe even fun. He flirts with her endlessly, and I get it; she’s pretty, and he’s stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere against his will.
“Is he going to come back?” I hear Becks ask him. That is the million-dollar question, of course.
I’ve seen Alexander twice since coming “home.” Twice in the last four weeks and none in the last two.
“I don’t know,” I can tell he’s saying it quietly, almost a whisper.
I run my fingers against my lips, feeling them tremble. What is Alex waiting for?
Sometimes, it’s the not knowing that does the most damage. It’s why I always wanted him to tell me if he wanted out. I just want to know where I stand with him.
It’s all I wanted.
My fingers shake as I hold them out in front of me. Naked. I was told they had to cut the rings off sometime after the accident. I haven’t seen them since. I assume they were given to Alex, but maybe they’re lost.
It seems like I’ve lost a lot since the accident. Memories, possessions, abilities, people…
I’m still not allowed use of my phone in the mornings. It tends to just result in debilitating migraines, but once I’m able to, I’ll call. Or maybe text him and let him know I’m fine. Maybe I would lie and tell him I’m better and that I’m leaving.
Yeah, I’ll do that.
I wipe the stupid tears off my cheeks and slip on my robe before opening the door. Thankfully, the two have cleared out, but I still try to think of tasks to keep me in my bedroom. And I fail; it’s useless. I would have to grin and bear another day.
The great room is empty, but hearing voices coming from the kitchen has me on high alert.
“There she is!” Oh, good. Company.
“Hi, Connie,” I reply sheepishly. “Niko,” I nod to the man half sticking out of the fridge.
“Coffee?” Caleb holds a mug out to me, already with cream in it. I’ll never make my own breakfast if he keeps doing it for me. I give him a look of annoyance and accept the cup.
“You have to start letting me do things on my own,” I mumble under my breath as I move past him.
His shoulders drop in disappointment. I’m always grumpy now, which is new for me.
But today isn’t going to be the day that being grumpy stops.
I know that much already, as everything about this morning seems to set me on edge.
I don’t want to be rude, but I also don’t understand why Connie is here.
“So…” I say awkwardly as I sit at the kitchen island.
“Right, you’re wondering why I’m here.” Ding, ding, ding. Connie takes another mug of coffee and sits beside me.
“I’m always happy to see you, but next time, you’ll need to buy me dinner first.” I give him a wink and a poor attempt at a joke.
Being the gentleman he is, he still laughs.
“Deal. No, I thought maybe we could have a field trip today? Go visit Brit? Go get a pastry at The Grounds? You know, break out of jail for the day?”
As much as I hate it here, the idea of doing any of that feels daunting. I’m already tired, and all I’ve done is walk from the bathroom to the kitchen. The last thing I need is more eyes examining all my deficiencies. Feeling pity for me.
He watches my face fall.
“Or, we could just keep each other company?” He redirects. I give him as much of a smile as I can manage.
“I’d love to hang out, thanks.”
Connie nods at Blanks. Right. Shift change. My babysitters need a break.
There’s always someone here. If it isn’t Blanks, it’s Brit, or it’s Carly or Sandy. Or some other proxy for Alex. But never Alex.
I stare straight ahead as conversation picks up around me, zoning out on the far wall of the mudroom. Like a one-way ticket to hell, the gilded invitation catches my eye.
“Do you want some eggs?” Caleb’s hand on my back startles me, a chill racking my whole body.
“That would be really nice, thanks.” I shift on the stool, grappling with the feeling of impending doom, blanketing me, then weighing me down. “You know what? I actually think,” I sway slightly as I stand, “I think I need to go back to bed. I’m so sorry,” I apologize, feeling the tears start.
Then Becks is right beside me, helping me walk.
I just need to go back to bed. Maybe tomorrow will be better.
“Why did you do all this for me? He asked. I don’t deserve it. I’ve never done anything for you.” The sound of a page turning draws me towards consciousness. “You have been my friend, replied Charlotte. That in itself is a tremendous thing.”
I open my eyes to find Connie sitting in the armchair in my room, reading. Aloud. To me.
“She rouses,” he beams. There’s nothing for me to say, and I feel incapable of pretending, so I lie here, doing nothing.
“This was one of Alex’s favorite books,” he holds up a battered copy of Charlotte’s Web. “I actually bought him this one. Even signed it in the front.” He sort of flips through the book.
“Connie,” I stop him. “Alex doesn’t want to be with me anymore.” He starts to protest, but I won’t let him. “Can you just tell him that it’s okay? Tell him for me?”
“I don’t think that’s very true,” Connie placates me.
“It doesn’t matter that you or me, or whoever else, doesn’t want it to be true. It is. And I’d like to leave here, but as long as I’m stuck in this purgatory, I’ll never get better. So just tell him. Okay?”
Connie nods once. “When would you like me to do that?”
“Today, please.” I continue lying there, staring at the ceiling.
I hear his gentle sigh, and then the light taps as he types a message on his phone.
A moment later, a ping rings out. Definitive.
“What does it say?” I whisper.
“It says,” Connie pauses, “all it says is ‘okay.’”
Okay. “Thank you. I think I’d like to go back to sleep now.” I close my eyes, feeling the sting of tears.
I hear Connie leave a few moments later, and my eyes reopen. I roll to face the window, watching as flurries fly past the pane. It doesn’t take long before my eyes flutter and close. And in my dream, I dream of him and the life I always knew we’d never have.