We wobble our way to the restroom, I take hold of the handrail, and she vacates the premises. Very carefully, I untie the hospital robe in the back and situate myself into a more comfortable position when the door flies open.
Our eyes lock for a moment, wide with a certain horror that would rival my childhood expression when forced to watch something likeFreddy Krugerwith Ren. Hayden’s eyes flick downward before two high-pitched screams ring out. I scramble to close the hospital gown around me as she slams the door. I’m mildlyconcerned at how my voice managed to match hers. The greater concern is that Hayden saw me practically buck naked preparing to urinate to pass a kidney stone.
Mortification doesn’t begin to describe the feelings I’m experiencing. I’d rather live with this stupid kidney stone than walk out of this restroom. I’d rather lose the presidency than see Hayden ever again. I’d rather…
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! You forgot the cup you need before using the strainer and I didn’t think to knock and—”
“Just,” I begin, fighting the urge to die right here and now, “stick it through a crack in the door.”
The door creaks open just enough for her hand to slide through, holding the clear cup. Careful not to touch her skin in any manner, I take the cup and shove the door closed.
“Gosh, dangit!” she screeches, and the cup falls from my startled hands.
“What is it?” I holler. As I bend to pick the cup up off the floor, excruciating pain floods my side and back, causing ripples of nausea. Falling to my knees, I dry heave into the toilet knowing nothing is coming out, while Hayden curses under her breath on the other side of the door. When my stomach settles, I collapse against the toilet and glance in the direction of Hayden’s mumbled words. The door is wide open, and Hayden is clutching her right wrist with tears in her eyes.
A curse slips from my lips as I realize what happened. “Hayden, jeez.” I take a panicked breath. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” she hisses. No. It’s not fine. Not even remotely.
Ihurt her.
Grabbing the railing, I lift myself to my knees. “Come here. Let me see your wrist.”
Her eyes meet mine, and something inside me fractures at the pain twisted into her features. Her normally perky eyebrows are knitted, and her eyes, which usually contain the power of the sun, are dim. Her full lips are frowning, not emitting their typical glossy glow.
“Cover yourself first,” she chokes out, closing her eyes.
I look down and see way too much hip and thigh on display, courtesy of loose ties. Thankfully, she’s not getting a full-on picture of my backside again. I quickly adjust the gown and re-tie it. Triple knots.
“All good.” I say, attempting to mask any ounce of embarrassment from my voice. She faces me again and takes a few cautious steps into the bathroom. I hold out my hand for her wrist, but she stares at my hand as if it’s covered in leprosy. “Let me see your wrist, Hayden.”
Maintaining dignity and control is vital in situations like these where your legally-real but emotionally-fake wife has seen your bare-naked butt, held your vomit bucket, and now looms over you as you are on your knees in front of a hospital toilet.
She places her wrist in my open hand. I wince at the sight of the open cut, the blood, and the bruise that’s already forming around said cut, traveling from the bottom of her thumb across the bottom of her wrist. Gently flipping her hand over, I find a perfect mirror of the wound already forming on top of her wrist.
“I’m so sorry, Hayden. I should have waited for you to be completely clear of the door before attempting to push it closed. Let’s call a nurse to attend to this.”
She snorts. “So that they can accuse you of abuse and run a smear campaign? Yeah, right. I’ll take care of this myself.” Hayden removes her hand from mine. The space in my open palm suddenly feels cold.
“Again, nondisclosure agreement. We could sue the pants off them if something from this hospital visit leaks to the press.”
“Maybe you should sue their pants off anyways. You seem to be in desperate need of them.” Hayden looks me over, and I swallow the heat crawling up my neck and face. “Still,” she continues, “if it leaks, the damage is done. You know how they will twist every narrative.”
Ignoring her bad joke, I sigh. “You’re right. At least let me help you bandage it.”
Hayden laughs dryly as she holds her wrist. “After you pee in the cup and pass this kidney stone. I need my candidate back in action. I don’t want to play wife anymore. It’s kind of exhausting.”
Is it really that exhausting to be my wife? My partner?
After this fiasco of a day, she’s probably right.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be good as new in no time.”
“Good.” I don’t miss the way her eyes softened alongside her voice. I glance at her, remembering I’m on my knees. Judging by the catch in her breath and the smile playing on her lips, she’s noticed it, too.
Remembering the encounter from a month ago in the paintball arena…
Hayden crosses her arms—careful of her injured wrist—and leans to one side. “I like this view, come to think of it. This is the second time you’ve been on your knees in front of me, Darcy.”
