Chapter 7
Chapter seven
Helen
Teddy’s in the hospital for four days. On the second day, he gets a long leg cast that goes from his foot to the top of his thigh. On the third day, he’s given crutches and encouraged to hobble around the hallways so he can get used to them.
I stop by his room to visit each day, before or after my shift in the ER.
Each time I drop by his room, we keep our conversation superficial.
Mostly it’s me asking how he’s feeling and him answering that everything’s fine, an obvious lie considering he can’t bend his leg because of the enormous cast covering it.
I stay long enough to justify a cheery reassuring text to Gwen accompanied by a picture of Teddy.
“Cheese,” I tell him as I raise my cell phone to capture his image for his sister.
He gives me a fake grin and a sarcastic double thumbs-up, both of which vanish as soon as the camera clicks.
Our interactions during those visits are weird and awkward. We act like people who barely know each other, cordial and distant, which probably makes sense. We do barely know each other, except he knows how I taste and I know he likes to take charge in bed.
I think we’re both working hard to forget those little details.
On the fourth day he’s discharged, and I come to drive him home.
“You sure this is everything?” I ask as I carry Teddy’s backpack to my car. I’ve parked it by the curb at the main entrance to the hospital.
Teddy moves faster than I expected, swinging his crutches along next to me, with one tucked under each arm.
“That’s it. I had my best friend Jamie bring it to me that first night.
Just some toiletries. Didn’t need much since you all wouldn’t let me wear anything besides that awful hospital gown.
” He shoots me an angry side-eye and adds, “Oh, and he brought a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt, since you cut up my old ones.”
“It wasn’t me,” I protest. “It was the ambulance guys. They had to see where you were hurt.”
“Those were my favorite pants,” Teddy mumbles to the ground, frowning angrily.
It takes us three tries to get him into my four-door sedan.
First, we move the passenger seat all the way back, but Teddy’s tall and with his leg outstretched in the cast he can’t fit.
Finally, he slides into the back seat, stretching across the entire length of it.
I close the door gently, worried I’ll squash his toes.
When I climb in the front seat, I feel like a mom driving her kid to soccer practice. He is younger than me, after all.
“I know you live in Venice Beach, but where?” I ask over my shoulder.
He gives me an address on Rose Avenue. It’s not far from my hospital, about fifteen miles. With traffic, it’ll take forty-five minutes to get there. It’s going to be a long, awkward trip if we don’t talk to each other.
“You live with friends?” I’m secretly furious at them, these friends. Who lets someone you care about go surfing at night?
“Jamie’s family owns the house. There’s me, Jamie, Anthony, and Gina.”
Gina.
He lives with a woman. Are they friends or more?
I shake my head, annoyed at myself for caring.
What does it matter? He can live with a thousand women. It’s none of your business, I remind myself.
“That’s nice,” I say, then realize I sound like a stodgy grandmother. “I mean, that you have friends—” Crap. That didn’t come out right. I try again. “Nice that you have friends who want to live with you.” Still not what I was trying to say.
A soft chuckle from the backseat. I peek in my rearview mirror to see a small smile on Teddy’s lips. My heart does a slow flip-flop. It’s the first smile I’ve seen from him during this whole ordeal.
“I forgot how funny you are,” he says, his fingers running over his cast in a back-and-forth motion.
I snort. “Literally no one has called me funny. Ever. I’m more awkward than funny.”
“Awkward funny. That’s exactly what I meant. It’s the most entertaining form of humor.” A sigh from him, like the walk to the car tired him out. Teddy slumps down until he’s practically laying down with his head braced against the side door of the car.
“What have you been up to since I last saw you?” I wince as soon as the words are out of my mouth. Why did I mention the last time I saw him? I’m trying not to bring it up.
Stunning. So gorgeous.
Teddy ignores the last part of my question.
Much to my relief. “Nothing’s changed with me.
” He grimaces at his words. “Bartending and going to classes at the community college. Although I took this semester off.” He glances down at his leg.
“Not sure what I’m going to do now. Gwen had me file for short-term disability insurance since I can’t bartend like this.
” His smile is gone like it never existed.
“What was your major again? Business?” I struggle to keep the conversation going.
“It was, but I changed it to communications semester before last.” His mouth turns down at the corners, and his gaze drifts out the window.
“Communications,” I chirp, trying to keep on being upbeat, which is hard given the depressed expression on his face. “What made you choose that major?”
“Honestly?” A half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. My housemate liked it, so I thought I’d give it a try.”
“Which friend is that?” Gina?
“Anthony. He wants to go into broadcasting.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” I pause asking him questions to concentrate on the road.
This section of the 405 has construction, and the traffic is heavy.
By the time I merge with the lane next to me, I look back to see that Teddy has fallen asleep.
His head lolls against the door handle, and one arm’s fallen off the edge of the seat to brush along the floor.
I reach over and turn down the volume on the radio, then adjust the AC so it isn’t blowing directly at him.
He doesn’t stir. I remind myself that he’s still recovering from a major trauma.
His body, and probably his mind, needs time to heal.
I spend the next thirty minutes in silence, navigating my way to his place.
When I finally reach it, I double-check the address on my GPS.
We’re in the heart of Venice Beach, an eclectic area just south of the wealthier and more pretentious Santa Monica where I live.
Venice Beach is a mix of skater, hippie, and stoner culture.
In front of his weathered blue house is the beach with a broad concrete walkway running along it.
Street vendors sit there on faded blankets with handmade bead necklaces and woven baskets laid out before them.
Women in long flowy skirts and gold hoop nose rings walk with long bearded men in tank tops, looking over the items. Even though the neighborhood looks shabby, this is still California oceanfront property so the one-story house with its sagging porch and towels drying over a chipped wooden railing probably is worth close to $4 million.
I pull into a narrow, cracked driveway behind four other cars. It’s so packed that my rear wheels stick out onto the sidewalk. The rest of the street is lined with cars on each side, ranging from rust-speckled Volkswagen vans to shiny BMWs.
“Hey, Teddy.” I turn to see he’s still asleep. “Teddy,” I repeat, leaning over my seatback. I reach out and can’t stop myself from smoothing away a lock of soft, slightly shaggy, brown hair that’s fallen in his eyes. I shake his shoulder.
He wakes with a start, flailing his arms. His eyes snap wide and panic-stricken. “Helen?”
“It’s all right,” I soothe, hoping to calm the wild look in his gaze. “We’re at your house.” I gesture out the window.
He follows the direction of my hand. “Oh. Okay.”
It takes both of us to pull him out of the car. Teddy leans against the passenger door as I fetch his crutches. He hops on one foot, positioning them under his arms. I sling his backpack over my shoulder. Together, we move toward his home.
We’re almost there when his right crutch hits a patch of loose sand and slides away, falling with a bang and a bounce on the sidewalk. Teddy lists to the side like the Titanic after it hit the iceberg. I rush over to catch him, but he’s too heavy.
We fall down with a thump, the sand on the sidewalk scraping away a layer of skin on my elbow.
Teddy’s landed on top of me, with his chest against mine, a certain…
appendage…pressed between my legs. I’m on my back, braced on both elbows, the one side throbbing.
Our faces are eye to eye. Our breath warms between us.
If he wanted to, Teddy could kiss me without hardly moving.
That’s how close we are. He doesn’t kiss me, of course.
That would be crazy. Instead, he slithers away, down my body, but that only makes things worse because now his head is level with my crotch.
He flops around, which only ends up with him touching me everywhere.
“Umm, I’m so sorry.” He turns his head sharply to the side, his cheeks red. “Did I hurt you?”
Internally panicking, I scramble backward, a reverse army crawl, until I’m out from beneath him. “Fine!” My voice is too high. “I’m fine.”
It takes some maneuvering, with me hauling on his right arm, to get him sitting on the ground with his broken leg stretched out before him. I hate to think of the sand that’s probably getting into his cast. That’s going to itch like hell later.
I stand above him and put my hands on my hips while he sits miserably on the ground. “I’m not sure how to stand you up. I might not be strong enough—” Voices float from the house, followed by raucous laughter.
“Perfect!” I smile, relieved to find a solution to our predicament. “Your roommates are home. I’ll go ask for help.”