50. Baby Steps
fifty
Baby Steps
“ H ow long are you in for?” Jacob sits in the chair next to my hospital bed.
“No idea,” I growl. Two days in the hospital, a pounding head, a sick stomach, and a thousand aching bruises all over my body have made me grouchy. “When did you get out?”
“Twelve hours of observation and I’m free,” he touches the bandage over his eye. “How do you feel?” He gently traces a bruise on my arm.
“I feel fine,” I say it loud, for the benefit of the doctor who just walked in.
“Except for the throwing up,” the nurse straightening my tables says. She hands the doctor a clipboard. “She still can’t keep anything down.”
He looks over my chart. “There doesn’t appear to be anything physically wrong with you. No internal injuries." He flips a page. "You aren’t pregnant.”
I glance at Jacob. My face burns red.
“You aren’t bulimic are you?” I’m not sure if he’s being serious. He doesn’t look up from the chart.
“No.”
Jacob moves out of the way, and the doctor bends over and starts pressing on my stomach. I grimace because it’s still tender from Brad’s kick. Jacob’s face twists like he’s in pain too.
The doctor stands up. “You’re definitely bruised, but not broken. My guess is that the vomiting is psychological, rather than physiological.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I bristle. “I’m crazy?”
He smiles, “No. It means you’ve been through a lot and you need time to heal. I think that going home would be good for you. I’m going to recommend a good counselor and sign your discharge orders.”
“When can I go back to school?” I ask. “It’s the end of my senior year, and I have finals and projects and—"
The doctor pats my hand. “You need to take it easy for a while. Try not to over-exert yourself. Baby steps.”
“Yeah, sure.” I wonder how long it will be until everyone stops treating me like a baby.
After the doctor leaves, I slump onto the pillow. I’m frustrated to the point of tears, but I can’t let Jacob see me cry. He sits on the chair beside my bed, leans forward and looks at the floor. He won't look at me.
Finally, he says, “Why didn’t you tell me what Brad tried to do to you at that party?”
I stare across the room, focused on a "pain level" chart on the wall, considering where I fall on the chart, even though right now, the worst pain isn't physical. “I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Why?” He takes my hand in his and starts tracing over the top of it with his thumb.
“I don’t know. I felt stupid, embarrassed, afraid. I didn’t want to be a narc. I was confused about what really happened. I got away, no harm done, right?” I glance at Jacob, but he’s looking down at the torn-off nails from my ruined prom manicure.
“If I had known… if you had told me, I would have taken him out the first time I saw him. I should have anyway. You said something when you got your wisdom teeth out, when you were still out of it. I wondered, but I…I didn’t know what to think.
” He breathes out. “I should have asked more questions, done something then. I’m sorry. ”
I reach up and cover his hand with mine. “You saved my life, Jacob. There’s nothing to be sorry about. If you hadn’t come over when you did...”
“I know,” he swallows hard. “I can’t think about that.” He grips my hand tighter. I don't tell him that my hand, like everything else, hurts. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.” He still won’t look at me. I study his face, but I can’t read what’s written there.
Mom walks in. “The doctor just told me the good news. You get to go home.” She sets her coffee down on my bedside table. “Oh, Jacob. I didn’t know you were here.”
He stands up. “I just came by to check on Jess. I can’t stay.” He leans over me and for a second I think he’s going to kiss me, but he just brushes the hair back from my forehead. “Take care of yourself, okay? Remember what the doctor said, baby steps.”
I roll my eyes at him. He smiles back.
As he walks out, Mom catches him in a hug and leans into his ear. She whispers, “Thank you for being there.”