59. Kissing Distance
kissing distance
Mirren
The worry is momentary. The surgery is routine. Dr. Tam has stellar credentials; his clientele could afford to go anywhere for the best, and they choose him. But I know the recovery. Been there, done that… I have the scars to prove it.
The numbness in my leg followed by the pain and tingling when that recedes. The physical therapy. Working up to runs. Fighting with stairs.
Regardless, my knee is fucked, and Dr. Tam can make it right. Add to that, he’s willing to consult with my doctors back home, and I couldn’t ask for more.
Strider’s breathing evened out a few minutes ago. His arm is dead weight on my belly. I don’t deserve this man… even if he snuck off to eat while I’m starving. It’s forgivable, but I’ll never let him live it down.
An efficient nurse comes in to tell me I’m next to be taken back for surgery. Exhausted and overwhelmed, I ask for a few minutes and for them to send Mom back.
She arrives as if she’s been waiting for just such an invitation and slides into the room the same way she would an armed vault, with caution and stealth. Her gaze lands on Strider for a long moment before she smiles down at me. “He’s a good man, Mirri. You did well choosing him.”
For as often as we fight, she’s good about being my mom when I need it. It’s probably one of those situations where we’re alike and rub each other wrong because of that.
“Yeah. I guess I have you to thank. You literally tossed me into his lap.”
She shrugs but a mischievous smile plays on her lips. “Your mom as matchmaker. Maybe I have a new calling.”
Picturing Hambone outside I don’t know whether to laugh or cringe.
“Thanks for today, or um, yesterday. I was able to focus because I knew you had my back.”
“Always, my darling girl. Always.” Her hand takes mine and squeezes. “It doesn’t always look like it, but you and the boys are my first priority. I’d never let anything hurt you on my watch.”
My face heats, and my eyes threaten. I know that. She’s always prioritized us. “I love you, Mom.”
“You’re the best parts of me.” She quickly amends, “And your father, of course.”
“Of course,” I repeat.
“And we’re both crazy proud of you. We were when you enlisted. I didn’t know I could be more proud than when you earned your tab. But, Mirren, your life, your choices, your respect for your family, how you handled yourself yesterday… I’m more in awe of you than I was that day in Georgia.”
I’m warmed from the inside out and fight back the tears. Nodding once, I look to Strider to compose myself. He’s still sound asleep. When I turn back to Mom, I’m surprised by the wholesome look on her face. She’s rarely not “on.” Right now, though, she’s content, maybe even happy.
“Can you figure out with the team when I’ll likely be discharged and how to get us home? Or a place to land while all this is going on? Jamie and Strider must both be exhausted.” You too. I don’t say it. “And you know they won’t let me stay here a moment after they’ve gotten their money’s worth.”
We’re interrupted by Dr. Tam and his team walking in. His gaze drops to Strider and his eyes crinkle at the corners. Without those, he would appear ageless. “Ready, Miss Jones?”
Refusing to shrug or show any petulance, I offer what I learned in the military. “Yes, Sir.” As the nurse walks toward me, I place a kiss to Strider’s forehead, the only thing within kissing distance without dislodging him. “Wake up, honey. It’s time.”
“Again? I’m too tired.” He nuzzles deeper into my side.
“I was weak.” That’s what I thought I’d never let him live down. But in front of the medical staff and my mother he went with “I’m too tired.” That’s it. That’s the one. If I have to engrave that on the inside of his wedding ring, I will.
The staff snickers. Mom laughs out loud. And Strider stirs, looking around. He’s had just enough sleep to be delirious when he wakes.
Mom knows, just by my look, that he needs help. “Come on, Anderson. Let’s find you a place to sleep. You must be so tired.” She wags her eyebrows like a movie villain and escorts him out.
“You know the drill.” The doctor says. A statement, not a question.
“I do. And I won’t fuck it up. Again.” I add the last word quietly.
“Athletes are athletes. I never expect them to find a recliner and stop living. The goal is to make it so that you live fully. Let’s make that happen, okay?”
The nurse drops one of the arm rests. “Name, birthday, social.”
I rattle them off, rote.
“Allergies.”
“None.”
“I’m going to push a relaxant.”
Not that I’ll need it. I’ve been up for nearly twenty hours. My adrenaline spiked and is gone. My mind is too tired to conjure up details. The fuzzy edges close in, and I’m under.
Strider
“Remember when you could sleep anywhere and shit didn’t hurt?” Jamie grumbles from the green chair next to me rubbing his neck and wincing.
“Yeah. I wish I knew to enjoy that time in my life. Now a bad pillow is a problem.”
“Hush, you two,” June cuts in. “You’re not that old.” The woman does some huge stretch and swan dive and doesn’t show any appearance of having gotten rotten sleep.
“Did you sleep?” Jamie grumbles.
“No. Somebody had to work on arrangements for today and be awake in the event Scooter needed us.” She says raising back up and repeating the motion.
“So you haven’t slept at all?” I reiterate.
“Conditioning, Strider. It’s worth it. Hell, it took years to sleep after Skipper and this one”—she gestures to the man next to me—“entered the world. With Zipper”—she makes a pffft sound.
“Yeah, I finally slept well again when all of you were out of the house, but by then my body and mind were conditioned to function on just enough.”
Once she’s upright again, she bounces on her toes. “I’m heading for coffee. Who needs some?”
Jamie mumbles, “Me,” in time with my own.
The woman glides down the hall as if she hasn’t been awake for twenty-four hours having watched her daughter function inside a terrorist cell, along with an arrest… if we can call it that. “I’ll never be as badass as her.” I offer, looking at June’s retreating back.
“That makes all of us.” Jamie paces and shakes out his limbs. He looks older in the rough fluorescent lighting, tired, with deeper worry lines around his eyes. “I can’t believe you knew this whole time and didn’t tell me.” He scrubs a hand down his face and scratches his stubbly, unshaven jaw.
“Not much I could say. You already didn’t trust me.
My choices either meant you would assume I was lying or I could lose her trust. Besides, I wanted Mirren to tell you, especially these last couple of weeks when she was trying to manage this op.
She needs you, and I could be wrong, but I think you need her too. ”
“It’s an odd bond—what we have. Wouldn’t trade it for the world. But the idea she’s putting herself in jeopardy…”
“Don’t I know it.” I rub my shoulder finding it sorer than it should be, finally lifting up the sleeve to see an impressive bruise. Well shit.
This complicates everything.
“Dude, that looks terrible. Is that from yesterday?” He circles around me, lifting my shirt from behind. With a long whistle, he drops it. “I think you need to be seen while we’re here. That’s no ordinary bruise.”
No. It’s not.
The exhaustion I assumed was a new environment and running on empty. The fatigue I assumed was due to running with Jamie or the energetic sex with Mirren. The craving for Cheez-its. Yeah, that should’ve clued me in.
I drop my head. Of all the times. Why do I have to be flaring now when she needs me most?
Glancing at my watch, I say, “She went back at a little after three. She should be out by now.”
“Nice deflection, but since you shoot me straight, I’m going to do the same. We’re heading to the emergency room unless you can give me a good reason why not.”
There’s a whole hospital at our disposal. We don’t need to go to the emergency department. I grab my phone and scroll through the hospital map, noting the right department. “I’ll go. But I want to know Mirren’s okay first.”
“She’s okay,” June says out of the blue, rounding the corner.
Extending a coffee to Jamie and then me, she adds, “She’s in recovery and will be for at least an hour.
Dr. Tam said it was less in-depth than he expected.
The seatbelt did its job. They did some cleanup and even removed some scar tissue.
She’ll have a recovery period, but not like last time.
They stayed in there longer than expected because she got chatty before they could intubate and told them stories of spies and bombs, wearing disguises and almost eating live octopus.
He said she had a great imagination and it made the whole operating room laugh, and they didn’t want to stop it. ” She rolls her eyes.
“Little do they know,” I put in.
“Little do they know,” June echoes. “And where are you going?”
“To get Strider—” Jamie starts, but I shoot him a look that has him changing his story mid-sentence. “Something to eat. Want anything?”
Her shrewd eyes scan both of us top to toe, like she knows better than to believe it, but she can’t find the lie. “No. I’m good.” But adds, “Conditioning,” under her breath.