“Yeah. I’m sure.”
We’re going over a few things—when I can start PT, whether I should add back in some muscle relaxers for a few weeks—when there’s a soft knock at the open door and Alex steps in cautiously, holding a tray full of to-go cups in his hand. I’d been wondering if he’d gone—if I’d maybe dreamed him here last night—but seeing as how he’s wearing a version of the same clothes from the showcase, a tear in the knee of his dress pants, a white T-shirt that he must’ve been wearing as an undershirt beneath his now-bloodied dress shirt, and seeing as how his stubble is thick again, the skin beneath his eyes darkened, I’m guessing he slept here, either in this room or in one of the small familylobbies nearby.
“I can wait outside,” he says, taking a step back, but my mom stands from her chair, holding her arms out for a hug as though he’s a long lost friend she hasn’t seen in years. For a second, Alex’s widened eyes track to mine in an expression so comically startled that I smile, feeling a discordant note of lightness, looseness.
Dr. Farroukh takes advantage of the hug and coffee delivery to lean down slightly, speaking only to me. “You really are fine, Greer. The most important thing is to rest, okay?” She sends a speaking glance my mom’s way before looking back to me. “Whatever thatmeans to you.”
I nod, making an effort to keep my expression neutral, realizing immediately that nodding is a real bad idea for the foreseeable future.
When she’s gone, my mom moves to resettle back in her chair, moaning over the first sip of the large latte Alex has brought her. “Mom. Do you think you could give me a few minutes? With Alex?”
“Oh.” She looks wounded, runs her finger around the top of her coffee lid. “I suppose I could go find your father.”
“Why don’t you go home and get showered, or take a nap? Ava’s bringing me a change of clothes.”
“Greer, I’m not going to leave you here alone.”
“I’m not alone.Alex is here.”
“Kit and Ben are still here too, Susan,” Alex says. God, his voice. He wouldn’t even need the tranquilizer dart. He should be a hypnotist. An audiobook narrator. “They’re with Michael in the family rest areadown the hall.”
“Mom,please,” I add.
It’s five minutes before she goes. She’s got a lot of things to do, such as to feel my forehead as though the problem with me is a fever, to add another blanket to the foot of my bed even though I’ve already complained of being hot, to adjust the water bottle, tissue box, and bottle of lotion that have been left for me on a rolling tray that she insists on placing over my lap, and to stand by the bed with her hands on her hips, looking down at me with tears in her eyes as she tells me how glad she isI’m all right.
By the time she’s left the room, I’m hot faced and humiliated, feeling childish and pathetic, and it gets worse when Alex takes the blanket and the bed tray away, smiling crookedly as he pulls the chair closer to the bed, sitting beside me. “She’s a lot,” he says, but it’s not cruel or judgmental. It’s an effort, I’m sure, to defuse the tension and shame coming off me. “I brought you some tea, if you’d like that.”
“No, thank you.” I make a move to push myself up more, giving Alex a sharp look when he reaches forward, attempting to helpme. “I’m fine.”
“Okay,” he says quietly, sitting back.
“Alex, listen. I wanted to say, I’m sorry about last night. About what I said.”
“Hey,” he says, reaching out and setting a warm hand over mine. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I should be apologizing to you. I can’t believe I didn’t see, Greer. I can’t believe I didn’t stop—I’d do anything to go back and stop it.”
“No, please. Don’t do that, okay? I don’t want that, for you to apologize. It was an accident. Bad luck, that’s all.” He takes his hand away, runs it through his hair.
I let my eyes stray down, taking in the hospital gown I’m wearing. I wonder if Alex recognizes it, the pale blue fabric with the tiny gold stars. The same type of gown I woke up in after my second surgery, the one that worked. I can feel him watching me.
“I’m sure you understand,” I say, my voice careful, slow. I hope I’m not slurring anything, conscious of the aftereffects of the meds. “I’m sure you understand why I’d like you to go.”
From the corner of my eye, I see his body startle in his chair, a small, sharp movement. “No. No, I don’t understand that.”
I clear my throat. “Well, I think you can—” I gesture in the direction of the door my mother just went out of. “You see I have a lot on my plate here. Enough people I’ll have to manage. Enough people to take care of me.”
“I’ll manage everyone. You don’t know how good I am at that. And I’ll take care of you.”
God, he sounds—he soundsscared. I risk a glance over at him, see he’s sat forward in his chair, his hands clasped together tightly between his knees. If it hurts this bad to see him this way now, when he’s wanting to stay, I hate to think how bad it’ll hurt to see him this way when he’s wanting to go. When he’s trapped in this new place he imagines getting for us, when he’s driving me back and forth to work, when he’s answering phone calls from my worried parents, when he’s watching me with my head in the toilet, sick and silent with a migraine.
When he’s desperate to go, to get back out there to the thing he waited forhis whole life.
Big bold font, right at the top of thepage.FREEDOM.
“I know it wasn’t right what I said, about the panic attacks. I know it’s more complicated than what I—implied last night. But I still think it’s better if you go.”
“You don’t get to make this decision for me, Greer. I’m telling you, I don’t want to go. I want to stay here, with you. I love you.”
I have to swallow the catch that bounces up my throat, the beginning of a sob. I concentrate on the room around me—the antiseptic smells, the low hum of the monitor that’s on the IV pole, the dry erase board across from me that has my name written on it, followed by the nurse’s name on duty.Fall Risk, it says. I wish I’d told Alex before, that I love him. I have a feeling that if I had—if I’d told him that night Kit came home, the night he’d had that spooked, wary Everything’s Fine Face on—he would’ve been gone long before this showcase, long before this accident. He never would have said it back, and definitely not this way, when I look like this. When Ifeel like this.
