20. Caleb #2
I was so busy at the bonfire monitoring the food and helping load the fireworks onto the boat that I barely ate anything before the events unfolded.
I’ll typically try anything, but my experimental nature ends with hospital food.
Nothing about the food there appeals to me.
Not even the Jell-O. I’m not that desperate.
“What about pizza?” she asks. “Surely there’s something open late that delivers. Even on a holiday.”
“Tony’s Pizzeria is usually open late on weekends. I think they still deliver to this part of the island.”
“Great, I’ll give them a call. Any preference?”
“Pepperoni. With their signature garlic crust.”
“Ooh, splurging for the fancy crust, I see.”
“Marnie,” I drawl, cocking my head to the side. “I almost died. I think that calls for the fancy crust.”
She waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t be dramatic, it was just a little scratch.”
“Tell that to my pending hospital bill. That’s one hell of an expensive scratch.”
“Are you always this argumentative?”
“Only with you.”
“Lucky me,” she says with feigned annoyance.
I stick my tongue out playfully.
“Alright. Go up and take a bath, you’ll feel nice and relaxed. Just don’t submerge your leg. The pizza should be here when you’re done. Do you need any help getting up the stairs?”
Before I can answer, she’s already handing me my crutches.
The doctor said to avoid putting weight on it as much as possible through the weekend so I don’t prolong the healing process. If I am patient and don’t rush it, I can start to ease back into work within the next week.
I use the crutches to hoist myself up one stair at a time and hobble into the bathroom to turn the water on, waiting until it reaches my optimal lukewarm temperature. I grab the collar of my shirt and pull it up and over my head.
“Hey, I went ahead and—oh. Sorry, I . . . I didn’t mean to invade your privacy.”
“You’re not invading at all.”
It could very well be my eyes playing tricks on me, but I could’ve sworn I saw a slight blush tinting her cheeks.
“Like what you see?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow.
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen already,” she answers. “I’ve seen you without a shirt on before.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She doesn’t reply, but holds my gaze instead, a silent challenge. God, I want to kiss her so badly. I’ve been replaying our almost-kiss on game night while I lie awake in bed, unable to fall asleep without thinking of her.
My feet move forward too soon for my brain to realize, and I end up putting my full weight on my injured leg. A pained noise escapes my mouth. My leg wobbles, threatening to buckle with each subsequent spasm.
“Caleb,” she yelps and lurches forward in panic.
“I’m okay,” I assure her, bracing myself on the bathroom counter. I take several deep breaths to ease the agony.
“Right, sorry.” She diverts her eyes, holding out a stack of clothes. A folded pair of sweatpants, an old concert shirt, and a pair of boxers. “I grabbed these for you. I hope you don’t mind that I went through your dresser.”
I reach out to take the clothing, my fingers brushing hers as I do. “Not at all. Thanks.”
She keeps her eyes fixed on the floor. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
Her hair falls off her shoulder when she turns for the door and disappears down the stairs. I stare after her, silently cursing myself for missing another opportunity to kiss her.
When I come back downstairs, Marnie is sitting on the couch with the dressing kit, carefully scanning a sheet of at-home care instructions from the doctor.
As difficult as it was to shift around in the tub without getting my thigh wet, it was nice to wash away the salt and sand from the beach and the stench from the hospital.
I can already feel myself coming back to life, the throbbing in my leg slowly subsiding.
I flop next to her and groan when a sharp pain shoots down my leg. Spoke too soon.
Marnie puts the paper down and picks up the kit, pulling out a large bandage, gauze, and an antiseptic wipe.
Then she looks me dead in the eye. “Drop your pants.”
I know I’m a little out of it, but I’m not that out of it. “Excuse me?”
She doesn’t waver. “The instructions say to change your bandage every twelve hours and after getting the area wet. You just took a bath, so it’s time to change your bandage.”
“I can do it,” I say, reaching for the supplies in her hands. “You don’t need to?—”
She jerks her hand away before I can take the items from her. “You barely paid attention when the nurses changed your bandage at the hospital, and I want to make sure it’s exactly how they did it. The first days are crucial to avoid infection and reopening the wound.”
“Marnie, I’m sure I can follow the instructions?—”
“Caleb, drop your damn pants.”
The tone in her voice stops me in my tracks. I’ve heard her stern voice before. More than once while working on the exhibit together, but this is different. I know better than to ignore her commands any longer.
I oblige by carefully rising from the couch and sliding my sweatpants slowly down my body. She’s watching me undress, and the moment is suddenly far too intimate for my liking. Her eyes find mine, and they are much softer than her words.
This is now the second time that she has seen me in a vulnerable state today. Earlier at the hospital, and now again in my own home. It feels like the air is being sucked out of the room—like I’m being pulled beneath the waves again.
I finish stepping out of my sweatpants and toss them onto the arm of the couch. She doesn’t give me another command, so I opt for some humor to lighten the mood. “Drop my pants, huh? I imagined you saying that to me after our first date.”
She laughs quietly to herself. “I think we skipped a few steps there.”
When she leaves to wash her hands, I clear off some space for her to work and prop my leg up on the coffee table to give her better access.
Upon returning, she makes herself busy, pulling out a few more items and laying them across the couch beside me: antibiotic ointment and a compression bandage to wrap around my thigh afterwards.
I hear the telltale crinkle of her ripping open the bandage wrapper, and I look down just in time to see her reach for my leg.
Her hands are cold, but I resist the urge to shiver. I don’t want to do anything to disrupt her work. Her touch is so gentle. Tender yet commanding. I watch her clean the area, gently dragging the cotton swab over the stitches to spread the ointment over the wound site.
When she’s done, Marnie ushers me to stand and helps me pull my sweatpants back up over my hips, then lowers me down to cover me with a blanket and places a throw pillow under my thigh.
I can’t remember the last time anyone’s fussed over me like this. It feels intimate, letting myself rely on someone else in this way.
Marnie rejoins me on the couch, closer this time than she was before.
I take a gamble and reach my arm across the back of the couch, working its way closer and closer to her shoulder.
She looks over at my not-so-subtle arm, then at me, and smirks.
Maybe she’s taking pity on me, but she doesn’t shove my arm away.
Instead, she leans her head on my shoulder, propping her feet up on the coffee table beside mine.
When I kiss the top of her head, she doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t move. She simply adjusts her neck to bring her face closer to mine. We both lean in, neither of us wanting to be the one to cross that line first. We’ve been toeing the line so carefully, so delicately.
She’s so close that I can feel her breath on my lips and I’m desperate to taste her.
My pulse is racing. I gaze down at her lips, and her eyes flutter shut.
I close the remaining distance between our mouths. Her lips are warm and sweet on mine and the burning desire to brand this moment into memory surges through me.
One hand finds the back of her neck while the other reaches up to cup her cheek.
Her pulse spikes beneath my fingers and I trace along the column of her neck.
A soft moan pushes past her lips, and I use the opportunity to deepen the kiss, running my tongue over her bottom lip.
She accepts greedily and moves her hands to my chest to fist my shirt.
I angle my mouth over hers again, intent on pulling another sweet sound out of her, and she happily obliges. I’m grateful that I’m already seated because I feel myself starting to go weak in the knees.
She pulls back slightly, and I trail my thumb over her swollen lips, eager for another taste.
Just as I go to lean back in, there’s a knock at the door. I let out a frustrated huff and rest my forehead against hers. We sit like that for a few moments until a second knock comes.
“Ignore it,” I breathe against her lips.
She laughs back, and I can smell the mint she swiped from the hospital lobby on her breath. “The pizza will get cold,” she warns.
A third knock follows, more urgently this time.
“I really should get that.” She pulls back but doesn’t immediately get up.
“Yeah,” I exhale.
“It’s probably some teenager with a ton of deliveries tonight. Best not to leave them waiting.” She steps out of the room and already I miss her presence, her warmth.
I adjust my leg above the pillow and lean my head back on the couch.
Faint sounds of a conversation flow through the house and then the door closes, followed by some rustling in the kitchen. A few minutes later, Marnie returns with two plates of pizza.
The first bite is heaven, and I quickly devour my slices. The garlic crust was the right call.
Marnie is finishing the crust on her final slice of pizza when we hear several booms and crackles echo outside.
“I’m sorry we missed the fireworks,” I tell her.
“Caleb, if you apologize one more time,” she threatens. It’s so endearing when she gets bossy with me. “This was not your fault, so stop apologizing.”
Another boom, and a burst of red flashes in the distance. Marnie must see them, too, because she sets down her plate and walks over to the window.
Several more go off in closer succession now. It’s approaching midnight, so the neighbors must be setting off the last of their stash, nearing the big finale.
Marnie unlocks the screen door and slides it all the way open, letting the cool summer air trickle in.
I scoot over to make more room for her and pull back the blanket.
She recognizes my invitation and immediately curls up next to me under the blanket, tucking her head against my chest. “Is this okay?”
I wrap my arm around her, savoring the way she sinks further into me. “This is perfect.”
We lie there, watching the fireworks burst over the tree line.
After a few minutes, she stirs beside me and I see her look up at me in my periphery. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”
My eyes fall to hers, debating how honest to get. But she’s been open with me about her own struggles before in relation to work, and she deserves a genuine answer, however vulnerable it may feel.
I inhale a deep breath. “This is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”
A silence slips between us. Her lips flatten like she’s trying to restrain her emotion. “Why?” It comes out as a whisper.
“Because I am spending time with people I care about. You, Parker, Linny. All of us getting to celebrate the holiday. I can’t remember the last time I saw fireworks on the Fourth,” I admit, still staring out into the night. “Probably back in high school with my father.”
I catch the small tilt of her head. “You never talk about your dad. Just that you aren’t close. Do you still see him?”
“Unfortunately,” I mutter. Despite my best efforts, the word is bitter. I hate the finality in my tone, but my father is the last thing I want to discuss when I have a beautiful woman wrapped in my arms.
She lays her head back down on my chest and curls in closer, not prying. “Well, I’m glad you’re seeing the fireworks now.”
The finale lights up the night sky with showers of red, blue, and gold.
The crackles and booms grow increasingly closer together until everything ceases.
Remnants of smoke coat the air, the gentle breeze slowly blowing it away until all that remains is the clear, deep blue backdrop with a small dusting of stars in the distance.
She untangles her arm from mine and moves to sit up, but I tighten my hold on her. “Stay,” I plead. “Please.”
I don’t care if I sound desperate. Pathetic, even. I need more time with her like this. Time when nothing else exists in the world. Not work or life or everything that happened today.
Just me and her.
“Okay,” she whispers, laying her head back down.
I tuck her closer into me and inhale deeply, breathing in the scent of her hair. Lavender and a hint of lemon flood my senses and my body begins to relax, falling into a blissful sleep.