16. Cracked Down the Middle
16
Cracked Down the Middle
Water rained down on the tile, echoing in the small hospital bathroom. Nothing but a curtain separated the shower from the rest of the room, but the promise of hot water and clean skin trumped any type of embarrassment I had over my nudity.
As the water warmed and steam started to fill the room, I clung to Ben’s arms as I shuffled toward the shower stool waiting under the spray. He helped me sit, and his cheeks flamed red when I reached back to untie my now-wet hospital gown. The angle hurt my shoulder, and I hissed.
“Here,” he said, stepping closer. Water ricocheted off my shoulders and speckled his shirt. “I can… if that’s okay.”
“Please,” I said.
His fingers were quick and nimble, untying the knot at the back of my neck. He peeled the fabric off me and retreated away from the water. The bottoms of his sweatpants were wet along with his shirt, but he didn’t seem to care as he dropped my gown on the floor with a moist plop.
Turning to face the showerhead, I gave him my back as I reveled in the hot water. It felt so good, and I almost moaned in bliss. I sat there for a long time as my sickly skin pinked from the heat.
“I brought your shampoo,” Ben said, voice close. “Can you—or should I—” His throat clicked. “I can help if you want?”
His embarrassment was adorable, and I swallowed a chuckle. “Sure.”
“I should probably keep my clothes on,” he said quietly, like he was talking to himself.
This time, I let my snicker escape. “I’m not worried about propriety.”
“Of course not. Your brother won’t murder you if he catches us right now,” Ben grumbled before the pads of his fingers brushed over the back of my neck, feather-light.
Well, he had me there.
When he added pressure to the back of my head, I leaned forward and the water rushed over my scalp. The cut above my ear stung, but I didn’t move, letting Ben run his fingers through my hair until it was wet.
Straightening out of the spray, I closed my eyes and sighed as he added shampoo to the strands and massaged my scalp. He was extremely gentle when he washed the left side of my head, careful to keep the suds away from my stitches. As he scrubbed my back, I washed my chest, arms, and groin.
Without warning, he rounded the stool and squatted in front of me. He was wearing a pair of dark boxers that were soaked in seconds, the material stretching tight over his thighs. He wasn’t hard. Neither was I—I didn’t think my body was capable of it—but my ego took a hit, nonetheless.
There was nothing sexy about my inability to shower myself, and my body was a patchwork of black and blue. What could he have possibly found attractive about me at this moment? Yet, somehow, his clear indifference to my nakedness stung.
I blamed the drugs. They made me loopy and emotional.
Washing my feet, Ben focused entirely on his task. He didn’t look at me or the parts of me that should have distracted him. He was being respectful, ever the gentleman. It annoyed me until I remembered that we had broken up a month ago and I had no business wanting him to be distracted by me.
Once he rinsed all the soap from my body, he shut the shower down and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around my shoulders. He hurriedly dried himself, securing a towel around his own waist over his drenched boxers before using a third towel to carefully dry my hair. He blotted the water from my strands, barely touching the cut above my ear.
“There you go,” he said as he smiled down at me. “Feel better?”
For some reason, my throat had swelled shut, and I couldn’t reply. I nodded. His smile widened, offering a hint of his dimple.
“Good.”
He dried me off until only my ass and groin were damp. He left that for me to take care of, and I did as he disappeared behind me to remove his underwear. I may have peeked, just a little, as he shimmied out of his wet boxers. I admired the curve of his ass as he tugged his sweatpants up his legs and over the swell of his bare cheeks.
A barely-there trickle of arousal teased the base of my spine, but it was gone almost instantly. I was too messed up for hard-ons.
Ben laid his towel and the one he’d used to dry my hair on the ground in front of me before helping me into my clothes. He was efficient and professional, even when he had to settle my underwear on my hips as I clung to him to keep myself standing.
It wasn’t until he was sliding my shirt down over my torso that his stoicism stuttered. His index finger traced the bruise left by my seatbelt, and I swallowed thickly. He ground his teeth but didn’t comment.
Sitting on the closed toilet, I watched Ben shake out my socks before picking up my right foot and finagling the sock on.
“Did you see him?” I asked, and he froze for several breaths, then shook his head. “Did Aunt June?”
Again, he shook his head.
“He was pronounced dead at the scene,” he said, watching me warily. “He was never brought to the ER.”
“Will said it’s gonna be a closed casket.” My vision was blurry for some reason, and I wiped angrily at my eyes. “That means he was fucked up, doesn’t it?”
“Silas—”
“They said he wasn’t in any pain, but how do they know? They weren’t there. They can’t possibly know that.” Ben’s fingers squeezed my ankle, but I barely felt it as my heart twisted beneath my rib cage. “What if he was in pain? In pain and alone—”
“He wasn’t alone. He had you.”
I shook my head as a broken sound scraped my throat. “I don’t remember. I mean, I remember thinking that he should have been breathing. Because people breathed, you know? Why wasn’t he breathing? But at the same time, there’s nothing but this black hole where my memories should be.”
“Maybe that’s for the best,” Ben offered weakly.
“I have to remember,” I said. “Because someone needs to remember the last moment he was—ah, God, he’s dead. Dad’s… Ben, my dad’s dead. He’s dead, and I can’t remember—”
As I burst into tears, Ben tugged me into his arms. I sobbed into his neck, nails carving into his back as I grasped at him desperately. He didn’t say anything, didn’t offer condolences or empty promises. He simply held me as I cracked down the middle.
“I can’t do this,” I said between wrenching sobs. “I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough for this.”
“You can do this, Silas, and you will.” He kissed my temple, breath hot against my skin. “You’re the strongest person I know.”
And I wept because my heart was breaking.
“Will!” Ben called out at some point. “Will, he’s—you need to—he needs you.”
I wasn’t sure how it happened, but one minute, I was crying against Ben’s chest and the next, I was tucked against my brother. I soaked his shirt, every sob jagged and sharp.
“I’m sorry,” I said again and again. “I’m so sorry, Will.”
“Shh, it’s okay. I got you, Silas. I’m here.” Will was crying too, great heaving gasps that echoed hollowly in my ears. “I’m right here.”
“I was driving. I didn’t mean to. Oh God, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. You hear me? It is not your fault!”
He said it over and over again, and I clung to those absolving words like a lifeline. I wanted to believe him; I really did. But I wasn’t sure if I ever could.
When I finally stopped crying, Will carried me back to my hospital bed. My hip was shrieking, and my head pounded. I was exhausted in every possible way, and I didn’t complain when he laid me down and tucked me in like a little kid.
Ben joined us a few minutes later, dressed in his sweatpants and shirt. He sat on the couch and put his socks and shoes back on as Will stood over me, sifting his fingers through my hair.
“It’s good to see you not covered in dried blood,” he teased, and I flipped him off.
“I still look like I got fucked by a roll of barbed wire,” I croaked, and Will scoffed, shaking his head as a smile played at the corners of his mouth.
“That’s a mental image I could have lived my whole life without,” he said, and I grunted in amusement.
Rising to his feet, Ben patted his pockets, then ran a hand through his damp curls. “I’ll head out. Um, I’ll be back after school, Silas.” He glanced at Will. “If that’s okay?”
“Yes,” I said before Will could act like an ass. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Will glared at me, then Ben, but we ignored him. Ben looked like he wanted to close the distance between us, but Will was in the way. Apparently, a fight with my brother was not worth the possible hand squeeze or forehead kiss Ben desired. Instead, he smiled and waved, then grabbed his coat and backpack and left.
I watched him go, waving as he disappeared into the hall. Will made a rude noise, and I scowled at him.
“Don’t be a dick.”
He stood from the bed abruptly, his jaw working. “Don’t, Silas. Just don’t.”
“Why are you being mean to him?” I demanded as I snuggled into the fresh sheets one of my nurses must have fitted on the bed while I showered.
The muscles of Will’s back tensed as he shook his head, frustration nearly rising off his shoulders like steam. “Dad told me what happened when you guys broke up,” he said. “You were wrecked, okay? Dad was worried sick. You already had that pervert after you, and then that little turd goes and breaks your heart!”
“I want him here.”
Will rounded on me, hands on his hips. “And when he hurts you again? When he takes advantage—”
“He’s not like that!” I was angry, but I was too tired to put heat behind my words. I didn’t sound remotely dangerous as I said, “He’s not that kind of person. He’s here because he cares about me, because he’s my best friend, okay? So stop being such an asshole to him.”
“You can’t take him back just because you’re grieving.”
“I’m not. It’s not like that.”
“You just showered together.” He gestured wildly toward the bathroom, and I wanted to pull the blanket over my head to hide from this conversation.
“Yeah, and he clearly took advantage of my vulnerable state,” I mocked. “He was being kind because that’s who he is. Even when I’m a cruel douchebag, he’s nice to me because he’s genuinely a good person. And I just… I need him, okay?”
Fuck, I was going to cry again.
“I hate these pain meds,” I snarled, rubbing the tears away. “I don’t know what you heard from Dad—”
“That he cheated on you with an ex and broke your heart,” Will seethed.
I ignored that. “Just give him a break. Please? For me?” He crossed his arms over his chest, and I sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you. Or him. I love him, and I miss him, and it’s nice that he’s here. So please don’t stop him from coming back.”
The fight leaked out of him, and he sank onto the mattress beside me. “I just don’t want you to get hurt again. You’re all I have left.”
“That’s not true, and you know it. You have Cora and Baby Brigs.”
“I know, but…” Will took my hand in his and rubbed warmth into my fingers. “You’re my brother, Silas, and I love you. I’m gonna take care of you.”
“I know you will.” I squeezed his hand. “Now get in here. I’m so sick of this day.”
As I scooted across the mattress, Will climbed into bed beside me. We were too big to fit, but we made it work. Our knees knocked, and our arms pressed together between our chests. But when he took my hand firmly in his, I smiled and closed my eyes. We breathed together for a long time until I, eventually, drifted off to sleep.
I slept terribly, constantly waking with an ache in my hip from lying in one position too long. I couldn’t shift much given how small the bed was, and Will snored. But I didn’t want him to leave, so I weathered the discomfort, drifting in and out of consciousness. As dawn lightened the sky outside the window, I finally fell into a deeper sleep.
When I woke, Will was gone. He’d left a note saying he’d gone home to shower and change. He’d be back soon. I had to pee badly, and I eyed my bum leg as I weighed the pros and cons of making my way to the bathroom alone.
Pro: I wouldn’t wet the bed like a toddler.
Con: I would probably have to crawl there on my hands and knees… like a toddler.
Crawling was better than wetting the bed, so I slowly stood, using the mattress as a crutch as I cha-cha-slid to the foot of the bed. Once there, I straightened and gathered my gumption. A second before I took my first step, someone cleared their throat. I turned my head to check the doorway and grimaced.
One of my nurses—Cathy, I thought her name was—watched me with disapproval. She crossed her arms over her chest, and I smiled innocently.
“Morning,” I said.
Cathy harrumphed. “Need something?”
“Um… potty break?”
With a chuckle, she crossed the room and offered me her arm. “Men. Always making things difficult on themselves.”
I was almost offended until I realized I’d been about to crawl to the toilet on my hands and knees like a baby instead of simply asking for help.
“Men are dumb,” I said.
Her white teeth gleamed bright against her dark skin as she said, “Why do you think I’m a lesbian?”
I barked a laugh as she helped me limp my way toward the bathroom.
Later that morning, after Will and Cora had returned, I was moved out of the ICU. The nurses on my new floor let me keep the wheelchair, and Will took me on a long walk around the floor in an attempt to break the monotony of my surroundings.
Finding a quiet, unoccupied corner of a waiting area, Will locked the wheelchair facing the windows, then sat down beside me. He looked older than I’d ever seen him, and I reached over and laid a hand on his shoulder. His heavy exhale whistled through his nose as we sat and stared out the window.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I can’t even pretend to understand what you and Ben have been through together. You’ve dealt with things that most adults never have to face, and it’s connected you in ways I just don’t get.
“I wasn’t trying to be an asshole. I just don’t want to see you hurt.” He raked a hand through his hair.
I tightened my grip on his shoulder. “Thanks, Will. I don’t really know what I’m doing with Ben, okay? He just makes everything better, and I…”
“You don’t have to justify. It’s okay.” He patted my knee. “Just don’t get too mad at me for looking out for you, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
We sat in silence for a while, watching the sun blink through the clouds. At long last, Will shifted, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a familiar watch and offered it to me. “We can get it fixed,” he said as my trembling fingers plucked my watch from his grasp.
The surface was cracked, fissures spreading like a spider web across the glass. The second hand tick, tick, ticked along, utterly unaware that its face was damaged. Like me, it had made it out of the crash alive, but it was disfigured. Even if we replaced the face, it would never be what it was. It would carry the scars forever, like I would bear mine.
I caressed the glass, my skin catching on the uneven fractures. “Thanks, Will.”
“You’re welcome, Silas.”
We stayed in that little hidden place for a long time, Will’s hand on my shoulder, my fingers clutched around my broken watch. We sat. We breathed. We mourned. And for now, it was enough.