Epilogue
Riley
Six months later
“I wrote to Brick weeks ago and haven’t heard anything back,” I say, hanging my cane on the chair after sitting at the table.
“Yeah, and you probably won’t. He’s in the clinic again. My friend left other inmates a tip that he was the one stealing their drugs and they beat him until he passed out. They also found said drugs in his system and think he could use regular checkups once he’s up and about again.”
“He hates needles and swallowing pills. Always has.” I stretch out a leg, rubbing my dislocated hip that I’m scheduled to have surgery on tomorrow.
“Yeah, I’ve noticed. I think he’ll learn to appreciate both once Turner shows him that everything could be a lot worse.”
“Your friend sure has a lot of leeway in there.” I push at my broccoli, wrinkling my nose, and when Sam looks at me, I smile, stabbing at it with my fork.
“He has a lot of dirt on most of the security guards and the warden,” he responds, scooting closer to me.
On his days off, he stays as close to me as he possibly can, barely ever leaving my side.
When he leaves, he restrains me in the bed and gives me something that will knock me out all day, to keep me from tripping over everything and worsening the already poor condition of my hip.
I don’t only fall while he’s around, I do it when he’s gone too, sometimes forgetting to lift my feet at the right time.
Took a spill down the basement stairs three days ago, missing a step while not paying attention.
We’re becoming such a great patient-doctor team.
If I don’t feel like he’s doing his best to keep me needing round the clock care, I meet him halfway, because it doesn’t feel right otherwise.
I need to be here. I need to be with him.
I need to always be sick. I know out there I won’t survive.
I don’t want to go back to before. I don’t want to rob houses or wait tables or worry about whether another guy like Stephen will run out on me because I’m not enough.
Sam wants me. He actually wants me. He wakes up every morning, kissing and holding me while telling me so.
He remembered my birthday, and I don’t even know how he found out when it was since I hadn’t told him yet.
He figured it out on his own because he tries with me, and I owe it to him to try back.
And damn, I want him too. I don’t always know what he’s up to, or if he’ll ever go too far, but I like the idea of thinking he might, even though it sometimes keeps me up at night with my eyes on the window and doors around us.
I crack a smile, finally saying, “Well, if Brick is busy, then he’s busy.
He’ll get back to me when he can.” Brick loves his independence and knowing he can do more for himself than anyone else.
Knowing he doesn’t need anyone else. I was a choice, not a necessity, and I’m sure he thought the same of Stephen.
“And if he doesn’t?”
“That means he’s too busy, and I think I prefer that to him finding time to read what I sent.”
“What was it?”
“Nothing much. I thanked him. Said he saved me from wasting more time with Stephen and how it wasn’t my steak dinner he enjoyed that night after all.
Mine was way better, and it wasn’t originally meant for someone else like his was.
I didn’t have to take anything away from anyone then and I don’t have to now.
” I only had to look at the right table.
It’s all I’m allowed to see now, so it makes it more feasible.
I sit higher in my chair, holding my meat in place with my fork as I cut into the center.
“No, no, you don’t. And I think when he finally is able to read that letter, he’ll be in a place where he’ll fully understand.”
“Only time will tell.”
“And he has plenty of that where he is.”
“And I have better things to worry about now,” I say before shoving a piece of steak into my mouth.
“Yes, and that’s getting better so you can move around on your own again,” he says with a blank stare, his tone not making his words seem genuine.
“Yeah, but even then I think I’ll still have you carry me some places.”
His eyes crinkle with humor and his foot lightly taps mine. “I might have to if you break any more bones on that side. Soon they won’t heal properly and you’ll have permanent mobility issues.”
My skin feels tight around my bones. “Yeah, I don’t want that.”
At least right now I don’t, but just like with a lot of things around here, I’ll probably change my mind. But it’s my choice. He helps me to see reason and sensibility but it’s always my choice.
“Thought not.” he finally says. “Let’s finish eating and we’ll change your bandage. Then I can evaluate the other side and we can spend the rest of the day relaxing in bed watching the first Hobbit movie.”
“Yeah, and I need my catheter changed out again too.”
“We can take a break from them and use Depends for the rest of the day. Don’t want your bladder forgetting how to work on its own.”
“A diaper?”
“Yeah. It’s just so you can limit use of that leg before surgery.”
“I don’t think I’ll like having that wet feeling.”
“I’ll change you to keep you from sitting in it too long.
” But he doesn’t. He waits until I’m squirming and crying in discomfort after the movie’s over before putting a dry one on me, but even then I’m still grateful.
He doesn’t have to do this for me or agree to making my life easier with less strenuous ways to use the restroom, because it was me who suggested it first, wasn’t it?
Yeah, this is all my choice. Sam pulls me into his lap, grabbing a book from the end table, and secures a hand on my thigh as he reads from where we left off last week. This is my choice too, even if he doesn’t let me go until he’s ready to.
I yawn at the end of chapter seventeen, and Sam slides in a bookmark to hold our place. “Looks like it’s bedtime.”
“Yeah.” I yawn again and he kisses the corner of my mouth.
“Want me to carry you?”
I think about it some more before nodding and rub my face into his neck. “Please.”
As long as I agree to something before getting coerced into it, then it really does mean I chose it.
And if I sometimes add to my injuries and lie about not needing to be changed so I get a rash he needs rub cream on every day for a week, then that means I’m choosing him too.
At least I know he’ll always choose me back.