20. CARRY YOU HOME
20
CARRY YOU HOME
ALEX WARREN
JACK
The pain in my head thrums to the steady beat of a noise I can’t quite place. It’s shrill and constant, an annoyance that won’t dissipate, only adding to the dull ache in my skull. I try to speak, to reach out and throw that incessant alarm against the wall, but my mouth is dry and fuzzy and my arms feel weighed down.
“Take your time, man,” Owen says, voice calm, but edged with concern. It’s the same voice I remember waking up to years ago… or am I experiencing some kind of loopy déjà vu? “You’ve been out for a few days. Don’t rush it.”
I start to fight against the heaviness in my eyes, blink… blink… blinking as fast as they’ll allow. One feels swollen shut, which can’t be good. When the first sight I recognize are the paneled LED lights on the ceiling above and the monitor in my peripheral—the source of that beeping, now getting faster—I panic. Nausea turns my stomach, and I heave into a pan Owen sticks below my chin just in time.
I don’t know how I ended up back here, but I need to get out. My hands fumble across my body, digging at anything I can to get unstrapped from this hospital bed but finding only resistance and Owen’s stronger hands on my chest, holding me down with enough pressure to calm but not to cause injury.
“Listen to me. You have to calm down. You’re okay, Jacky.” His hand moves in a soothing circle against my sternum, and he starts the breathing exercises he’s practiced with me a hundred times before. “Breathe in and out. That’s good, bud. You got it. Mom and Dad just stepped out to get something to eat. Winnie’s at work, but she’ll be back tonight and—”
“Di… Din…” I stutter, still feeling as if my mouth is full of cotton balls.
“We basically had to force Dinah to go get some rest. She hasn’t left your side since it happened. I’ll call her right now, though. You just have to calm down for me.”
I slowly nod my head once in agreement, feeling like I might topple over at the exhaustion swooping in. I can calm down. I try silence, solitude, and safe, but those words haven’t been calming for me in a long time. Instead, I think about daisies, pretzels, Dinah, and the dang cat I wish I could hold to my chest right now.
Daisies. Pretzels. Dinah. Chipper. Family. Faith. Safe.
Three words simply won’t do. Not when it’s taking everything in me not to crumble under the anxiety ripping through me.
“I have to call the doc in, alright? Your neuro will want to check everything.”
When Owen’s hands start to slip away, I grab one and pull him closer. I hate the tears brimming in my eyes. The familiar vulnerability I thought I was just beginning to leave behind. Without a word, Owen seems to know what I can’t say for myself. That I don’t need time or space right now. I need my brother.
“It’s okay, Jacky,” he whispers, running a soothing hand over my forehead like he’s the big brother, not me. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, okay? You aren’t alone.” He keeps one hand on my chest while the other reaches across the bed, pressing the call button for a nurse.
“Okay, bro.” He pulls his chair closer, never taking his hand from my chest, and takes a seat. “Tell me what you remember.”
Closing my eyes, I search through the recesses of my brain, trying to pinpoint my last memory. Sorting through the rapid-fire images popping into awareness.
Cat pulling the thread from a throw blanket on the couch.
Dinah’s breathy laugh against my cheek.
Me, reading aloud from a novel about two opposite strangers becoming so much more, with Dinah’s socked-feet draped across my lap.
Holding a pile of kittens, but knowing exactly which one belonged to me.
A kiss, covered in green light.
Batting cages and bubble gum.
Drawing a mustache on my sister’s face.
Pressing Dinah gently into the wall of our secret hallway. Kissing her until I can’t think straight.
Blips and pieces of memories flash at me like high beams on a darkened highway. I can’t filter through which belong to me and which don’t. What’s real? How much time has passed? The only constant: a woman with strawberry hair, freckled cheeks, and my heart in her delicate hands.
“I don’t know.” I squeeze my eyes tighter and feel the tears stream down my cheek. “I don’t know what I remember.”
“That’s okay. The doctor expected things to be fuzzy. He’ll be here soon, but let’s just say you have got to have the worst luck of any person I know.” He chuckles but pats my chest. “We were at the Peewee game. You were catching for me, but we paused and… I don’t know man, it happened really fast.” I hear the strain and fear in his voice. “I looked away and the next thing I knew you were on the ground and everyone was screaming for an ambulance and…” His voice cracks and when he deflects, I’m grateful for it. “Thanks to your coaching, Jenny Brewington can swing a bat with the best of ‘em.”
“Jenny Brewington?” I peek an eye open against the harsh hospital lights. “I helped her bat… at the game.”
“That’s right… Give me a sec.” Owen pops up. Before I can argue or beg like the baby I am for my brother not to leave me, he switches the lights off at the door and returns.
“Thank you.”
“No problem. You need heat?” I only nod once before I feel the weight of the heated blanket cover my body. “Brought it from home. Thought you’d like it when you woke up.
“So, sweet little Jenny was taking practice swings like you told her to and just smacked you right upside the head when you weren’t lookin’. Coincidentally, it’s almost the same spot as before. Doc kept you under… like last time… for a few days. Wanted to be sure you didn’t have brain swelling, etcetera. You know the drill.”
“Right.”
“Your face is pretty banged up. Like, it’s a good thing you’ve gotta girl who can stand to look at you because, whoa, you’re ugly.”
I can’t help but laugh lightly. Though the movement sends pain through my head.
“And give her a few years, and I think Jenny will be running the show on that diamond. You can only blame yourself.”
“Right,” I repeat.
“You really scared us—scared me—bro. I’m glad you’re still here.” I don’t see his hug coming, but when Owen’s body hits mine and his shoulders shake against my chest, I don’t hesitate in wrapping my arms around him and joining him.
The neurologist, Dr. Hanson, interrupts our masculine sob-fest with a, “Good morning, Mr. Jones,” in her typical, clinical tone. It makes me want to beg anyone who will listen to bring Dinah to me. I only want to hear my name from her lips. Instead, the rest of my family appears shortly after with tears and quiet celebration.
The doctor and her team of nurses screen my vitals, which look promising, considering. Perform cognitive tests that indicate I’ve lost coordination in both hands and feet, but should be able to regain that with therapy. And Dr. Hanson gives me the overview of both the CT scan and MRI performed while I was out.
The bat did indeed make contact in almost the same place as the ball three years before. Dr. Hanson is dumbfounded as she explains that brain bleeding and long term damage after sustaining repeat head injuries such as mine are almost always guaranteed, but there’s no explanation as to why my brain is functioning, by all accounts, normally. She calls me a medical miracle. A recovery that can’t be explained away with science and logic.
Dad, with tears in his eyes, asks the doctor to join our family in prayer around my bed, thanking the Lord for His mercy in my life, and when everyone says “amen,” there isn’t a dry eye in the room.
But when I open my eyes—or eye—there’s only one person I see.
The room blessedly clears and my head does too. The fog and noise and confusion all just dissipate as every unbearable inch between Dinah and me diminishes. She’s here. She’s real and mine and… she’s crying.
“You’re crying.”
Shaking her head, she tiptoes towards me. “No.” She swipes the moisture from her cheeks but more tears fall in their wake.
“Yes, Polly. You are.” I stretch out my hand as much as my muscles and brain will allow. It’s shaky but finds a steady base when she closes the distance between us and all but throws herself onto the bed, snuggling me like a koala climbing a tree. It’s perfect.
“Chipper was just so worried, ya know?” She sobs into my neck.
“He should probably stay here with me then… until I come home.”
She nods, sniffling and clinging tight to the top of the hospital gown I really wish I wasn’t wearing right now.
“I was so worried. I thought… when that bat hit you… and…” Dinah tries so hard to speak and fails beautifully, crying and kissing her way across my neck, my shoulder, and the spot on my chest where my heart beats just for her.
“I’m fine.” My hand tangles in her unkempt hair at the base of her neck, soaking in the way her sugary scent has obliterated the horrid, stale smells I associate with the hospital. Her presence. Her comfort. Her concern. They’re antidotal. I could walk outta here right now. I could run a marathon. Wonky hands and feet can’t keep me down.
She sits up suddenly, straddling my waist. I send up a sincere prayer that we don’t have a repeat closet situation on our hands, because I think I’m about to get a redo of seven minutes in heaven .
“Jackson Jones, you are not fine!” she slaps my chest, then winces. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit you. But…” She smacks me again and kisses my lips once. A peck. Not even close to seven minutes. “Okay. I’m sorry. That was the last time, but I was so worried.”
“I’m in love with you.” The words spill out of my mouth. I’m helpless to keep them in any longer. They might be my new calming words.
I. Love. Dinah.
“I love you,” I repeat, because now that the floodgates have opened, I don't plan on holding back a second longer.
Her red-rimmed eyes widen. “You do?”
“Yeah. So much. Like, more than you love Mrs. Holmes’ donuts.”
“That’s… I love those donuts.” She sighs, cupping my cheeks, careful not to press too hard against the swollen side of my face.
“I know you do, Dinah Belle.”
“Then…” She draws closer. “You should probably know that I am completely in love with you, J. Jones.”
She kisses my lips once. “Jackson.”
Another kiss.
“Jack.”
Another.
“Jacky.”
Her thumbs caress my jawline, a sensation of flawless friction against the shadow of the beard growing there.
“I want any and every version of you. Always. Forever. I love you…” Smiling down at me, her lips curl in the sweet, sexy grin I could never forget. It’s permanently embedded. “More than donuts.”
Dinah kisses me again. One glorious, deep connection. I can’t remember my own name, but I know the truth of every word she just uttered in my very bones.
She loves me. When she pulls away, I’m finding it harder to keep my emotions at bay.
Dinah. Loves. Me.
New , new calming words. Ones I’ll always remember.
“Bro, what’s up?” Owen’s annoyed. The usual chipperness in his greeting is completely lacking. “You’re so stinking late, man. The crowd is crazy here.”
“I know. I know.” Pinning the phone between my ear and my shoulder, I roll the sleeves of my denim shirt up to the elbows and slide my feet into a pair of boots. “I’m leaving the loft right now.”
“He’s leaving now,” Owen echoes.
“No, he isn’t!” Winnie yells over the sound of an eclectic playlist bopping in the background of my phone call. “He’s probably just gettin’ dressed. Get your rear over here, Jacky!”
I growl, quickly set everything in place like I planned, and jog down the stairs to the shop, pausing to grab the bouquet I made ahead of time.
“Everyone’s here, man. I can’t believe you haven’t made it over yet,” Owen continues.
“Walking out the door. I’m hanging up now.” Pressing end, I take a deep breath and prep myself for the noise and crowd next door. Since the accident, my sensitivity to cumulative sounds and stimuli is heightened. My head’s already buzzing with a potential migraine, but I’m praying tonight doesn’t get cut short.
The party inside Knotty & Nice sounds like the beginning of a rave. The place is packed. So when I walk through the door, I don’t think anyone has really noticed my presence. I nod to a few locals. When someone offers me a pretzel bite, I gladly accept and pop it in my mouth. And holy butter and beer , this thing is good. I don’t make it more than a few steps before I see her.
She's wearing a cropped Hide Your Booty t-shirt with a cartoon pirate on the back wearing patterned underwear. And I can guarantee Molly—who has to be around here somewhere—has a tee to match. But it’s the pair of high-waisted, distressed jeans that have my gaze lingering for too long. Dinah’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Maloy says something—likely delinquent in nature—and she tilts her head back in a laugh that I feel all the way across the room. I want all her laughs and smiles and secrets.
I’m not one to subscribe to love at first sight or fated mates or whatever it is they call it in the romance books we read together every night, but when it comes to this woman, I’m a believer.
Chloe announces the last of the Cracker Jacker Crumble Bites. I smirk because I couldn’t have planned her timing better myself. A groan of disappointment sounds through the crowd, and I’m so proud, my chest puffs a bit. I wanna boost Dinah up on my shoulders right now and throw her a whole different party. One with just the two of us. Maybe Chipper can come, too, as long as he keeps his squirmy little paws to himself.
Charlie waddles over to me in a pair of those crazy, floral shoes she can barely walk in. “Hey, boy.” She hugs me, pulls me low so I can hear, and kisses my cheek. “You're gonna do just fine. Love the scruff.”
She pats my jaw and pushes me forward as I catch a chaotic medley of salutes, hollering, and catcalls from my parents, siblings, and their friends in the far corner of the shop. And Emory and Molly are there, too, mixed in with the others, wearing their pirate panty shirts. Dinah’s right, that word’s the worst.
I love that as my family quickly embraced Dinah, they pulled the two most important people in her life into the fold too. Molly has even started calling my parents Lolli and Pop, something Mom insisted on almost the moment she met her.
Molly jumps up on her chair and gives me our secret signal: two thumbs up, then pushed into her perfect cheek dimples. Dinah lost her best pal to me, and I’m not sorry in the least. I shoot her a wink and continue my trek across the pink tiled floors. The crowd parts, leaving Dinah and me at either end.
Gram yells, “Take her to the closet!” Earning a swift fist-bump from Maloy.
Dinah finally sees me, and her perfect, pink lips—my absolute favorite color—tilt in a smile as she starts slowly bouncing off the heels of her pink Converse-covered feet. The shoes that mean: Dinah loves J. Jones . And she is radiating excitement. She’s a cartoon character revving up for a race, and I’m ready to catch her. When she finally gives in, she runs and jumps into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist. Dinah is the cutest koala ever.
I will keep her.
“Hi. I was wonderin’ when I'd see you, handsome.” Her fingers find their home in my hair. Although we pushed this celebration off for three long months while I recovered after my second, once-in-a-lifetime freak accident—and this is her night—Dinah looks worried. “Is the music too loud? You don’t have to stay if it's too much.”
I kiss her cheek before setting her on the ground. “Definitely too loud. Should probably shut the place down, head upstairs, read a book.”
“And will you feed me?” She taps her lips like she’s really thinking it over.
“Yup. A special donut recipe I have lying around. You can eat and we’ll… pass the time.”
Dinah’s eyes light with mischief. Girl loves some donuts. And me.
“As enticing as that sounds, I can’t do it. Sorry. I owe the people pretzels.”
“You are the pretzel queen.”
“Yup.” She smacks a kiss to my lips and pouts. “I just ran out of Crumble Bites. They’re a fan favorite. You’ll have to settle for Cinnamon Twists.”
“It’s a shame.” I take her hand and pull her towards the bright orange door that leads to our hallway. I know everyone’s eyes are on us, yet when I’m in Dinah’s orbit, everything else fades away. She’s all I see.
“I only came for two reasons. To give you these…” Dinah gasps when I offer her the bouquet of pink roses, mixed with an assortment of lavender, pastel orange coneflowers, and wildflowers. I love how every time I bring a small cluster of flowers for her, she acts as if she has never seen a more beautiful bunch. “And to—”
“Eat my Cracker Jacker Bites??” she interrupts, standing on her tiptoes for a peck.
I shake my head, taken aback as a memory stirs in my head. It’s one I remember well.
She’s angry with me, green eyes flaring, but there's a softness to her that makes me wonder why she’s hurting, and whether I could ever be the one to make her smile. I want to be that person for her, but she doesn’t even know my name. I think of ways to say sorry, for whatever foolish nonsense came out of my mouth while I was dumbfounded by her fire and her loveliness. Somber music lulls in the background of the shop that curiously smells like home, and I think I have an idea…
“You are so pretty, Dinah Knot. That first time I saw you, right over there”—I point to the place where we met on a different day—“I couldn't take my eyes off you. Or when I saw you here.” I push open the door and welcome her into our hallway.
Dinah gasps, covering her shocked smile with her fingers as she takes in the mint-colored walls, plastered with every note we've passed back and forth through Cat . Every Post-it note I left to myself with Dinah’s name on it. Every journal entry starting after the day we met, where my life seemed a little brighter—a little more hopeful—because she was suddenly in it.
“You were so rumpled from sleeping, hair a little wild, and you were wearin’ that sexy shirt.”
“Reading is sexy,” she whispers, now running her shaking fingers over the words on our wall like they’re priceless works of art she can't bear to fully touch.
“That's the one.” I step behind her and shake the small package in my pocket, garnering my bravery, then take her hand in mine, pulling her back to rest against my chest, so we can admire the wall, molded perfectly together. My arms lay criss-crossed over her chest, locking her in close, and my thumbs have a mind of their own, slowly running the length of her collarbones.
“You and this hair, Dinah.” I kiss the crown of her head. “And that shirt.” My hands trail down her side until they rest on her waist. “This incredible heart of yours that called so clearly to mine. That saw every broken piece of me… and chose me anyway.”
I twist her around in my arms and see the mist of tears in her green eyes just as Chipper pushes through the cat door.
Right on schedule.
“And this cat… that I did not want.”
“You love him so much.” She licks her lips then traps her bottom lip in her teeth.
“I do.”
I bend low, scooping the miscreant in one hand, holding him between us, and let the other rest on Dinah’s face, tilting her chin and gaze to mine. This is definitely the party I was hoping for.
“For three years, I taught myself not to hope or plan ahead or dare think I could have the future I’d always prayed for… until you, Dinah Belle. Until I set eyes on you, and I knew that moment in time was one, that if I forgot, I could live over and over again and never grow tired.”
“Jacks…” She sighs on an exhale. The name only she calls me hits my lips, so achingly close to hers. Totally unaware of the effect she has on me, Dinah gives Chipper a rub behind his ears without even thinking about it, and only a breath goes by before she finds the note tucked in his collar.
“What’s this?”
The way Dinah grins ear to ear and shakes her head, unable to take her eyes from mine, tells me she knows exactly what it is. She passes our cat-child over to me, then frantically unfolds the pink note like I’m a kooky chocolatier and she just won the golden ticket.
But I don’t wanna waste any more time. I take her free hand and fall to a knee, reciting the message from memory.
“Polly… I promise to complain about how loud you play your music every day for the rest of our lives.”
When she laughs, clenching my hand tighter, my courage bolsters. “I also promise to feed you donuts, to read you romance, kiss you in closets, and keep all your secrets.” I wink, and I know she knows I’m talking patterned underwear. “I want to make you laugh and hold you while you cry. I want to cherish you, Dinah Belle. Forever. And I promise I will fight, everyday, to be the best version of myself, if you’ll have me.”
I take a deep breath and slip the rose gold, round cut diamond ring on her finger. It’s set with an arrangement of smaller diamonds encircling it like a flower and celtic knots along the band. Just like with Dinah, the moment I saw this ring, I knew it was the one.
“Will you be my wife?”
She kneels down as she wraps her arms around my neck. “Just you and me? Forever?”
“Yeah, Polly. Just you and me… and Cat. ” And the bunches of babies I want to make with you is what I don’t say. Life is short, so the few short months I’ve called Dinah mine without calling her my wife already feel like a lifetime. I’m ready for it all.
“Yes,” she says, nodding against my head just before I can’t stand it any more and catch her mouth with mine in a dizzying kiss filled with promises, desire, and hope for the incredible life we’re going to have together.
I lift her in my arms, see the crowd of our friends and family creeping on us through the window of the shop, pump one hand in the air and shout, “She said yes!”
They cheer and holler as Chipper purrs, weaving his body around my legs.
“You, J. Jones, are gonna be one glorious Groom Ken .” Dinah tilts her head back in a laugh, providing me perfect access to drop a kiss on her jaw and just below her ear.
“And you, Polly Pocket,” I whisper, “have made me a very happy man.”