CHAPTER FIVE
Hannah Dorsey wasn’t sure whether to feel pity, relief, or both.
As she approached the front door of Finn Anderton's on-campus apartment, she took note of the fact that he was on the first floor, close to the main entrance and the handicapped ramp.
That was great news, considering his mobility issues after the stabbing and coma.
But she knew Finn well and suspected that he'd be sensitive about the extra accommodations he needed.
As she knocked on his door, she decided not to mention them.
She waited patiently, well aware that it might take Finn a little additional time to get to the door. When it opened, she could tell it had been a struggle. He was holding a cane and his breathing was heavy.
“Hey,” she said, pretending not to notice.
“Hi,” Finn replied, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. Other than seeming a bit worn out, Hannah thought that he looked a lot better than the last time she saw him a month ago.
Back then, he was skinnier and his face was gaunt.
She guessed that he’d put on close to ten pounds.
His gray eyes were alert, suggesting that he wasn’t on as much medication anymore.
His dirty blond hair was trimmed and brushed, though it stuck to his forehead where he’d been sweating.
Either he or someone else had recently shaved his face, which was unusual.
Typically, he let the stubble grow out for weeks at a time before doing anything. She wondered how much help he’d had.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
He shuffled to the side and motioned for her to enter.
“We haven’t done much decorating yet,” he told her.
"Who's 'we?"
“Me and my roommate, Greg,” he explained. “He’s not here right now. But between my issues and his MS, we’re not going to be climbing on chairs to put posters on the wall. That’s how we roll in the disability unit.”
“That’s not what it’s called, is it?” Hannah asked, aghast.
“No,” he said with a bitter smile, “that’s just our self-pitying term for it. They call the first floor of this building the ‘special access unit.’ Sounds nicer, right? Everyone here is limited in some way. I’m hoping that by the end of the semester, I’ll be spry enough to move out.”
“That would be great,” she said, glancing around and taking note of all the grip bars along the walls.
The furniture that came with the place seemed focused on easy movement as well.
The couches, which were spread far apart, weren’t too deep and everything had a solid, grippy base so it wouldn’t slide.
“In the meantime, do you want some help with those posters? I’m pretty adept at standing on chairs. ”
Left unsaid was that only a month ago, Hannah wouldn’t have been able to do that.
Back then, she was still staying at Kat’s apartment, convalescing from Dallas’s attack on her on an isolated hiking trail.
Her time holed up at Kat’s place had left her with what her psychiatrist, Dr. Janice Lemmon, had called mild agoraphobia.
Then, just as she was starting to feel more confident going out into the world, she, Kat, and Ryan were ambushed in Jessie and Ryan’s house by Ash Pierce.
Hannah had gotten off the easiest among them, getting knocked out and suffering a concussion after Pierce hit her in the head with a police baton.
By the time she came to, the violence had ended. Well, almost.
“That’s okay,” Finn told her. “I was kidding. We’re keeping the décor simple for now. Maybe a wall calendar at eye level. If we get real crazy, we might buy a plant. The goal is to make upkeep as simple as possible.”
“Okay,” Hannah said. “Is there any more unpacking to do? Dishes? Clothes? Or did your family already help out with all of that?”
“It’s all taken care of,” he said. “The goal for the semester is minimalism, so I brought as little as possible. And as you can see, the furnishings are pretty sparse so that we have wide spaces to move around.”
“In that case, do you want to go get a coffee or a snack?” she asked. “I know distances can be daunting right now, but maybe getting outside for a bit would be good for you. You look pretty pale and sickly.”
The dig was good-natured but he didn’t smile. She worried that she’d offended him.
“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I was just messing with you.”
“No, it’s not that,” he said, sounding hesitant all of a sudden. “I just have something to tell you, and I’ve been stalling.”
She felt immediately anxious, a rare emotion for her, but tried her best to talk her way out of it.
“Look, if you’re going to say that the next time I’m hanging out with someone and you warn me that they might be a secret incel planning to torture and kill me, don’t worry: I’ll listen.”
That at least got a thin smile.
“Don’t make me laugh,” he said as he moved over to one of the couches and leaned against the back of it. “Everything still hurts a little.”
“Okay,” she said, holding her hands up in surrender. “So what is it?”
He sighed and looked down at the thickly carpeted floor. Hannah assumed that was so potential falls wouldn’t be as painful. Though she wanted to press him, she stood in the doorway and waited.
“My parents gave me an ultimatum,” he said, looking up.
“Okay.”
“You know that I don’t blame you for Dallas stabbing me,” he said carefully. “I did the research on his background. I chose to confront him in that parking lot. That was all on me.”
“But?” Hannah replied expectantly.
“But my parents do blame you,” he said. “They’re not interested in my defenses of you. They say that all the bad stuff that happened to me wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been hanging out with you. It’s B.S. of course, but they believe it.”
Hannah wasn’t so sure it was B.S. If the two of them had never crossed paths last year, he would not be clinging to that cane or be living in this 'special access unit' apartment. It was true that he'd made his own choices, but being in her orbit wasn't exactly a boon to his personal safety.
“So what does that mean?” she asked, though she had a creeping sense that she already knew.
“It means that they’ve forbidden me from hanging out with you.”
“They’ve forbidden you?” she repeated, not sure she’d heard him right. Part of her wanted to remind him that he was an adult whose associations couldn’t be forbidden. But she knew it was more complicated than that.
“Basically,” he said. “They told me that if I insist on spending time in your company, that they will stop paying for me to attend UCI. They said that if they find out that I have been, they’ll pull tuition payments and only pay for me to attend a school over 200 miles away.
I guess they figure that’s far enough to prevent ‘hangouts.’”
The sourness in his tone told her how he felt about the ultimatum. But she also knew that even by telling her this, it meant he’d already agreed to the demand. And she could hardly blame him.
It wasn’t like he was such an amazing student that he could reject their instructions and get a scholarship to continue attending the school without their help.
More importantly, the thought of uprooting his life and attending another college he was unfamiliar with, all on principle, just so he could maintain their friendship, was probably terrifying.
Deep down, Hannah knew that Finn was conflicted for more reasons than just that. It was clear that he had once hoped, and maybe still did, that their friendship would eventually blossom into something more. At one point, so had she.
But there were too many roadblocks, many self-imposed, that made that unlikely now. So was he really going to stand up to his parents just so that he could hang out with his gal pal? It wasn’t a reasonable ask.
“I understand,” she said softly.
“You’re not pissed?” he asked.
“A little hurt, maybe,” she conceded. “But I see where they’re coming from.
They’re just looking out for their son’s welfare.
So whether I think your folks are right, or this is fair—that’s not really the point.
They control the purse strings and you’re in a vulnerable position.
I’m not going to get in the way of that. ”
“I’m really sorry,” he said, his shoulders sinking.
“It’s not your fault, Finn,” she said, as she moved into the hallway. “I’ll get the door.”
"Thanks," he said, and before he could stop himself, added, "See you later."
“Apparently not,” she said and closed the door before he could say anything else.
She turned and hurried down the hall toward the main doors of the building. She kept her head down so no one could see her face. For reasons she didn’t totally understand, she was crying.