17. Rescue
seventeen
Rescue
I blink a couple of times because I can't believe he's here. "Jacob?"
"Jess, what the...? Are you okay?" He kneels next to me.
I roll to my side to face him, still in shock that he's here. I work to sit up without using my right arm. "Yeah. I think so."
"What are you doing out of school?" He reaches like he wants to help, but he's not quite sure if he should touch me.
"I didn't feel good. I decided to go home."
"You decided to walk home? It's got to be like five miles from the school to your house, and with your broken arm..."
“Wrist,” I snap. I'm hurt, embarrassed, and shaken by everything that's happened today. I don't mean to take it out on him, but I do. "I don't have a car that runs, so I walked. What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be on base?"
"I worked the night shift. One of the parts came in for your car. I wanted to see if I could get it installed." He sits back. "Sorry I scared you, and made you fall...again. Here, let me help." He puts his hands under my elbows and stands, lifting me until I'm on my feet again. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm okay, I think." I step back, but my voice sounds shaky, even to me.
"Is it broken?" he gestures at the cast.
"Yeah."
“Sorry.” He stifles a yawn and I realize how tired he looks.
"You said you worked last night; shouldn't you be sleeping?"
He shrugs, "I'm okay. I felt like I owed it to you to get your car running."
"Why would you owe me anything?"
He gestures to my arm. “I feel like this is my fault. The tree was a dumb idea. I shouldn’t have made you go up there.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” The guilty look in his eyes is starting to get to me. I have to look away. “It was my own clumsiness.”
“You’re not clumsy.” He rubs his thumb across my cheek. "Maybe a little muddy though."
"Muddy?" My hand flies to my face and I look down at my clothes.
My shirt is streaked with dirt and there's a new hole in my jeans.
The sloppy bun I started the day with has gotten sloppier.
It strikes me how crazy it is that we're both standing on the side of the road and that Jacob is here, that he saw me running toward home with a casted wrist, wearing jeans.
That I fell. That I have mud on my clothes and my face, and I look horrible.
Again. That he worked all night and then drove to fix my car because he feels bad that I got hurt.
I start laughing, hard.
"What?" He's looking at me like I've lost it. Maybe I have. I can’t stop laughing.
"You're really good at this," I reply between gasps.
"Good at what?" The puzzled expression on his face makes me laugh harder. I'm laughing so hard I can barely breathe, but I know the tears are right behind. If I let them flow I won't be able to stop them.
I choke out, "Catching me when I'm at my worst."
He grins, almost in relief. "That's what friends do isn't it? Catch you when you're at your worst? Or if they're better than me, maybe they don't let you fall in the first place."
I stop laughing and stare at him for a second, but I don't think he's teasing me.
That wasn't what I meant, but I like the way he turned it around–implying that he's here to catch me in my worst moments.
It's kind of what I counted on him for when we were kids.
I almost wish I could tell him everything–about school, about Brad, about how long I've thought about him coming back, about how him being back is reminding me why I had such a crush on him in the first place.
But I can’t.
"Let's get you home. You can rest and I can try to make sure you don't have to walk home again." Jacob opens the door for me and I climb into his car. I watch him walk around to the driver's side, and I think for the first time today that maybe it isn't the worst day of my life.
I keep thinking that, right up until I see my mom waiting for me on the front porch.