Chapter 17
17
GUY ‘FOSTER’
I groan as I open my eyes, my stomach growling and my body aching. After a few confusing moments, I realize I’m still injured, at Eve’s instead of at the hospital, and I’m sleeping in her bed. And this is not night number one. The lingering effects of morphine make my head throb, but my mind is starting to work again after a couple of days (weeks, really) of endless sleep.
As I sit up, I take notice of Eve’s room – something I didn’t bother to do yet besides noticing the flowers yesterday. The curtains are a sheer navy lace, fluttering in the gentle breeze through the open window – that I don’t remember opening. Each wall is adorned with a mismatched array of paintings and photographs, while string lights create a dreamy ambiance. A pile of vintage clothes sits in one corner, waiting to be sorted through. Soft, romantic touches intermingled with bold, free-spirited elements and I’d bet money just about everything is vintage, thrifted, or antique. She could never drive by a second-hand store because ‘what if something that spoke to her soul was there and she missed it’? I can see now that each item has a home in her space, and it all works together and somehow equals her.
I push aside the patchwork quilt covering me. My feet sink into the softness of the shag rug beneath me as I make my way toward the bathroom, using the walls for support.
‘Morning!’ her sweet voice greets me before I see her.
All I can do is grumble something incoherent as I enter her bathroom, which is just as eclectic as her bedroom. The sink is an old-fashioned pedestal style, adorned with baskets of make-up, hair products, and antique bottles filled with various bath salts and oils. The shower curtain is a bold paisley print, adding contrast to the otherwise soft and romantic space.
‘Thank you for not listening outside the bathroom door this morning,’ I say, making my way into the kitchen and sitting down at her tiny kitchen table.
Eve chuckles a melodic sound that fills the cozy kitchen. She places a steaming cup of coffee in front of me, the aroma instantly invigorating my senses.
‘You only need to tell me once,’ she replies, her tone laced with playful sarcasm. Her smile is infectious, and I can’t help but feel a warmth spreading through me despite the throbbing headache. ‘It took me a few to remember how you like your coffee, but I think I got it? Heavy on the cream and sugar, aggressively stirred.’
I laugh at her ‘recollection’. I take a sip of the strong, rich brew, feeling its comforting heat soothe my insides.
‘It’s perfect. Just like?—’
‘Don’t finish that sentence,’ she says, shaking a wooden spoon at me.
‘Right,’ I say shamefully. ‘I almost forgot – no flirting.’ I repeat her rule as I glance around the kitchen. This is the first morning where I’ve felt alive enough to leave her room. Her apartment isn’t exactly as it was the last time I saw it, but some things are. Like the mismatched mugs hanging from hooks above the sink, each telling a story. The shelves are packed with cookbooks, spices, and quirky vintage kitchenware – those were all there before.
‘So.’ She sits at the chair across from me. ‘I figured after breakfast you and I would go on a walk around the third floor to get your blood pumping.’
I groan, but nod because I know it’s going to happen.
‘Movement is the key to healing,’ she says, frowning at my lack of enthusiasm.
‘You medical folk are dedicated to your talking points. When do I get to rest?’
‘When you’re dead,’ she says with a grin. ‘Seriously, Fost, exercise will help reduce your pain, increase your range of motion, and enhance your overall mobility. If you want to get back to that bike, you better get on board.’
I scrunch my face, running my one good hand over it. ‘You gotta bring my bike into this? I’m trying not to think about her.’
‘Her?’ She laughs, sipping from her pastel purple pottery turned coffee mug, the letter E front and center.
I sigh, slightly embarrassed to have to explain this to her for the second time. The first being when she and my bike first met. ‘You know I consider her sexy as fuck, only trumped by one other girl.’
This gets a full-out laugh from her. ‘If you had to rate us both…?’
‘No,’ I cut her off. ‘I will never answer that question. At least not right this second. It’s too soon.’
‘Too soon for what?’ she asks, her tone interested, to say the least.
I shake my head, and motion to zipping my lips and tossing the key.
‘OK, OK,’ she says, standing from the table as she rolls her eyes playfully. ‘No more questions about your other girlfriends. Are you hungry?’
‘Famished,’ I admit.
‘Perfect, because I’ve been up for two hours and figured I’d make breakfast.’
‘You made breakfast?’
She nods, pulling a plate from the oven and setting it in front of me.
‘I did. French toast with fresh blueberry compote, complete with butter and powdered sugar. Orange juice, low pulp. And bacon, extra crispy.’ She grabs a slice of bacon from my plate and munches on it, before setting it before me and meandering to the coffee maker and filling another mug.
‘Aren’t you going to eat with me?’
‘I ate while I cooked. It’s my bad habit. But I figured we could catch up after you eat, on our walk.’
Our walk. I’d nearly forgotten after she mentioned my bike. Without waiting, I try her French toast and drop my head back in shock. ‘Sweet baby Jesus. Why aren’t you the head chef at that hospital?’
Eve’s grin widens at my reaction to her French toast, a glint of pride in her eyes.
‘If they served great food, nobody would ever want to leave,’ she says.
‘There are plenty of worse things about that hospital than the food,’ I say, taking another bite of her delicious French toast, savoring the sweet flavors that dance on my tongue. The blueberry compote is the perfect balance of tart and sweet. I’m beginning to think perhaps Eve is good at everything she does. ‘A lack of clothing for the patient, for starters. No one asks, they just look at everything. Intubation tubes. Needles. ORs. And morphine-laced thoughts.’ With each thing I list she nods in agreement, until the last one where she lifts a single finger into the air as if having an epiphany of some sort.
‘I am a pro at translating morphine-laced thoughts. It’s part of what I get paid for.’ She settles in her chair, sipping her coffee as she watches me pretty much devour the breakfast in possibly record time.
‘Ready?’ she asks, the moment my fork settles on my plate.
‘Shouldn’t we wait thirty minutes to prevent cramps?’
She laughs. ‘Wives’ tale…’
‘Really?’
‘Scientifically, it’s completely unfounded, so yeah. Now come on, you don’t want to lose your uh – firmness?’ she asks, looking horrified that she’s said it as she touches my bicep.
I stand, wiping my mouth with the napkin I had on my lap. ‘If you’re going to spend our walk complimenting me like that, I’m in. Please, keep a tight grip on my firmness,’ I say, patting her hand wrapped around my good arm.
‘If Phil gets wind of this conversation, we’ll never hear the end of it…’ she says, leading me out of her apartment and into the hallway.
Four apartments, two facing two, are on either side of the out-of-service elevator, creating a big square for me to do laps around. Perfect, a built-in gym I didn’t expect. Not that I hate the gym, I’m there often. What I hate is how lazy this morphine makes me. Let me sleep the pain away, please . But no, she’s right. Movement is key.
‘So,’ she says. ‘Pretending the last ten seconds never happened, let’s start over. How’ve you been?’
‘We’re doing the “hi, how are you” routine?’
‘Why not,’ she asks, innocently looking up at me. ‘We haven’t really even spoken about it yet and it’s been weeks.’
She’s got me there.
‘All right then, well, there’s not much new with me that you haven’t probably already googled or witnessed.’ I look at her questioningly, knowing full well she has done exactly that. She probably knows more about me than I do at this point.
Pink fills her cheeks, and her stride speeds, causing me to have to pull her back a bit.
‘My bruised spine and broken ribs request a soft stroll, not a speed walk.’
She smiles through the blushing and slows her step.
‘How about we start with you. How are you feeling with me in your apartment unexpectedly?’
The sigh she exhales says she’s not sure.
‘Confused,’ she says.
‘About what?’
Her head snaps my way and her look says, ‘Have you lost your mind?’
‘You. Me. Us. Everything. The past. The present. And the future.’
‘You’re confused about all that?’
‘And then some.’ She shakes her head, glancing around the hall as if looking for her thoughts. ‘I may have even possibly fallen asleep while scrolling your Instagram last night. But it was unintentional – the Red Bull account is what led me down that hole.’
‘Really? Find anything good?’
Why do I like the idea of this?
‘Or should I ask, see anything you like?’ I joke, winking at her flirtatiously.
Eve rolls her eyes, a playful smile dancing on her lips as she meets my teasing gaze.
‘No flirting,’ she quips.
‘ In your apartment – your words. Technically, we’re outside of it so flirting is allowed.’
‘You’ve made sub-rules to my one rule?’
I nod. ‘Morphine thoughts.’
‘Fine,’ she laughs. ‘Get it all out while you can. I’ll probably regret this, but flirt away.’
Excitement bubbles within me, overpowering the pain I’m feeling on this walk. ‘If I could rub my hands together with anticipation right now, I would. Your breakfast was to die for, thank you.’
‘Flirting with manners – nice.’
‘Don’t get too hopeful,’ I say. ‘I’m just getting started. Are you aware that you’ve gotten prettier since I saw you last?’
‘Maybe chronically tired is my look?’
‘ Something is doing it for you. You’re a damn smoke show and I won’t be surprised when I get caught ogling you as you clean one day.’
‘You’re ogling me behind my back?’
‘I am,’ I admit with a wide smile.
‘And you’re proud of it,’ she says, leading me along the hall. ‘OK then, well, I hope you get a good look because you’ll have to stop once caught – those are the rules.’
‘Fair enough,’ I say, admiring her for a few steps. ‘Seriously, Jellybean, I’ve missed you. I always knew, but being with you in person, that’s really driving it home here,’ I say, touching my chest. ‘And also, here.’ I point to my head, stopping her in her tracks.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Medication-laced dreams help our past echo through my subconscious while I sleep. Every moment my eyes are closed, I’m dreaming of us.’
For a moment she stares at me with hope in her eyes, and a silent conversation happening that her face can’t hide. Her brows furrow and she shakes her head. ‘Foster, there is no “us” any more.’
Ouch. The morphine isn’t strong enough for that sort of rejection.
‘I think I’m ready for bed again.’
‘OK,’ she says, guiding me back towards her door.
We don’t speak – because I made it weird by allowing morphine to choose my words. But she deserves to hear what I’m really thinking, doesn’t she? I mean the woman is voluntarily nursing me back to health. Which I will make right when this is over. But now that my head is somewhat clear, I’m realizing that what I lost five years ago was so much more than I’ve allowed myself to remember up to now. I can’t pretend it’s not.
‘I’m having them too,’ she says almost under her breath as she hands me the cup containing my meds.
My hand is partially around hers for the shot glass exchange when she says it, and with her words, I hold it there.
‘You’re having what?’
‘Dreams. Flashbacks. About us.’
‘Really?’ I ask, taking the cup as she pushes it into my palm.
She stands from the bed, handing me a bottle of water from a little snack and drink area she’s made on her dresser top. Staying with her is more like a five-star hotel than a hospital. I guess now I see why. She’s dreaming of me.
‘Yes. And I didn’t want to mention it because I thought it would be weird.’
‘Is it?’ I ask at her pause.
She shrugs, suddenly twisting a ring on her thumb. ‘I don’t know. I really don’t know.’
I lift the glass and swallow my pills, chasing them with half the bottle of water. ‘Then let’s not decide what it is right now. We’ve got time.’
‘Yeah. Time we have.’
‘Now give me a goodnight kiss,’ I tease to lift the mood and with a soft laugh from her, it does.
‘We’re going on a five-minute speed walk after this nap, so mentally prepare while you dream of me.’
I hold my ribs as I laugh. I swear, just the motion of taking the pain meds and muscle relaxers activate something in my brain to make me tipsy the moment I swallow them down.
‘Don’t hurt me, pretty lady,’ I say as she walks out, shaking her head. She likes it. I’m pretty sure she likes it. Time to let myself wander back into the depths of my heart to relive some moment, and hope it doesn’t shatter as quickly as it did today with the words ‘there is no us’ the next time I open my eyes again.