by Shelly Crane
"The yard. I want to take you for a walk, if that's OK with you."
A walk. Like, with my legs and stuff. I smiled in spite of being weird with Mason. "Please."
He held my arm tightly, but gently, in his and walked beside me down the hall slowly. He completely had my trust. If I fell, I knew he'd catch me. "Andy was supposed to take me," I finally said to fill the silence.
"I know," he admitted, but didn't look my way. "Your mom told me that you'd said that a couple times, but Andy always heads out, so…you're stuck with me."
Stuck. I shook my head at the absurdity.
"Thank you. I feel like I have a list in my head of things that will make me feel normal again. Taking a walk outside is one of them."
"I'll have to hear this list sometime," he said and tightened his grip when the stairs came into view. "Just keep a tight grip on my hand, OK?"
I nodded and we managed the stairs. My neighbor, who was in the room next door to me, was being pushed in her stroller as she liked to call it. I waved to her and she scowled back, but finally waved. She was ornery with a capital O, and with a name like Mrs. Robinson, I could only imagine why.
"You and Mrs. Robinson getting along?" he asked. I looked up and saw the smirk in his profile.
"As a matter of fact, we are," I retorted.
He laughed. It was rich, delicious, and spellbinding. I felt guilty because one laugh from this guy was more fun and happiness for me than two weeks with Andy had been.
I groaned and was happy when Mason didn't comment on it. I glanced around the yard at the pristine landscaping and benches lining the pathway. It was as if Mason read my mind and eased me into one before sitting next to me. I hated to admit how tired I was, but it was there—a constant reminder that I wasn't whole, that I wasn't capable.
"Don't do that," he said softly and touched my hand. "Don't beat yourself up. It takes a long time to build your strength back up. You're doing amazing."
"But it feels like something so simple should be easier."
His hand was still there on mine. When he paused and let his thumb sweep across my knuckles, I barely contained myself. "You're doing amazing," he repeated.
I suddenly felt a need to confront him. He was so hot and cold, and it just didn't make any sense to me. "How's Adeline?"
His brow rose. "Adeline?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
"Uh…I guess she's fine. Why? Did something happen at your session with her today?"
I licked my dry lips. So it was going to be this way, huh? "No, she's fine. She's very adamant that I get back to being the old me."
He tilted his head in confusion. "What does that mean?"
"She said I should embrace my old life…and everyone in it."
He got my meaning right away and shook his head. He looked angry and I didn't really know why. "She said that?" I nodded. "Did she specifically say to start seeing that guy again?"
Why would he say it like that? "Yeah. She said since I loved him before, he was a lifeline for me that I should embrace if I wanted a chance at remembering anything."
He scoffed. "Wow, Adeline, low blow," he muttered under his breath.
"What?"
"So that's why you've been so into him lately," he said in realization.
"I'm not into him," I heard myself say. I hung my head a little, playing with the strings of my eggplant sweatpants. "I feel so bad about it. He seems to be so interested and…invested in me. I've been trying, but I just don't really like him at all."
He seemed relieved. I stared up at him in confusion as he said, "So if you don't like him, then it's safe to assume that you don't love him, either."
"No," I said quickly. "Honestly, I can't imagine how I ever did. All he ever talks about is us getting back to the way we were. Ruling the school and making out all the time. Doesn’t he know that high school is almost over?"
He chuckled deep in his chest. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, letting it absorb into me. "I'm sure someone like him isn't concerned with much."
"I used to be just like that," I whispered. "I was this vapid, stupid girl."
"People change," he reasoned firmly.
"He stole my first kiss. I mean," I twisted my fingers in the air in frustration, "I know it wasn't my first kiss, technically, but I don't remember any of the other ones. He just swooped in and stole it. And I let him."
I glanced at Mason. He was looking at me with sympathy, but also something else. Something I wasn't sure even he knew what it meant. "None of those things matter until it's the one you're meant to be with. Then all those kisses, all those things that happened with someone else, become insignificant and practically vanishes." I wasn't even breathing as I listened, hanging on his words like they were a cliff and my fingernails were the only thing keeping me there. He leaned in further. "My momma used to say that a girl had to find her prince after wading through the frogs." He smiled. I smiled, too, drowning in the sweetness of him calling her 'momma' and wondering what happened to her.
"I like that," I told him.
"She was a smart lady."
"What happened to her? If I can ask. I'm sorry if-"
"No," he said and shook his head. "No, it's fine. She was in an accident a few years ago."
"I'm sorry. That…sucks."
"She was awesome."
I squinted in sympathy. "I hate that for you. And I hate this for me."
"Bad things happen to good people, Emma," he said pointedly. I shrugged. He leaned forward and touched my cheek with his big, warm palm. "It doesn't mean that no one's looking out for us. It means that we're being prepared for something bigger and better."
"You think this was supposed to happen to me? And to your mom?" I asked incredulously. How could he think that?
He paused. "It's not that I think it was supposed to happen; you just can't dwell and regret the things that do happen. You've got to keep moving forward, keep pushing through everything that's thrown at you." He leaned back, wiping his palms on his pants before standing. "If you don't, you'll be standing in the same spot forever while the world keeps living around you."
I waited for more, but he stopped there and held his hand out to me. "Ready to go back inside?"
"And suffer through another night of boredom and bad reality TV? Why, of course."
He laughed. "That's the spirit. Come on."
He helped me stand, but my legs seemed to have grown too tired. The short rest gave them a false sense of readiness, and when I stood, I fell, clinging to Mason. He caught me easily and his breath coasted across my face. I looked up at him since he was looking so intently down at me. He seemed even more confused and dazed than I did. When I felt his fingers sweep across my cheek, I knew he could have asked me to do anything right then and I would have jumped at the chance.
But he didn't ask anything, he just stared in fascination as his fingers inched their way back to my hair. "You have to be the softest woman alive," he whispered in distraction.
He said woman. Not girl. Woman.
"I highly doubt that," I answered.
He smiled at that and cupped my cheek. "I think you don't give yourself enough credit. I hear comas are great for the skin."
I burst with a laugh. My laughter almost scared me since it was the first time I'd heard it. It sounded like someone else was laughing through me, but it felt great regardless.
A cleared throat interrupted our…whatever it was. "Mason. What is it that you're doing?"
We turned to find the man who ran the place. Mason automatically stiffened, his whole demeanor changing and shifting. He gave me a pleading look, but I wasn’t sure what it was for until he pulled away. "Let's get you back to your room, Emma. Night, Dr. Wrigley."
He didn't give me the option as he placed my arm over his and guided me away. I didn't speak until we reached my room again, long, silent minutes later. "What was that about?"
"You're a patient, Emma," he said as if that explained it all, and he placed me in the bed gently
.
"What does that mean?"
"I need this job," he replied quickly and moved about the room, straightening the blinds and then dumping the old cups into the trash.
"What did we do wrong?"
I wanted him to say it.
"Emma…" he said and I could tell he was exasperated.
"What did I do wrong?"
He stopped, but wouldn't look at me. "You didn't do anything. I'm the stupid one."
"Why?"
"Don’t you have a boyfriend?" he asked harshly. He didn't wait for me to answer. "So why does it matter, Emma? You're just trying to get out of here, right? Go back to being the old you?"
I nodded like he wanted. "Yes."
"Then you don't need me complicating things."
I gritted my teeth. "I wish you'd speak English, just once."
"I'm speaking English, Emma; you're just choosing not to listen. You know exactly what I'm saying." He sat on the edge of my bed and touched my knee. "I'm sorry. I got carried away before. You're my patient and I'm your therapist. I work here and you will be walking soon and right out that door. And you have a boyfriend. Did we cover it all?"
"And you're with Adeline. You forgot that part."
He seemed confused and opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. He seemed to have some small revelation and swallowed before saying, "OK. So everything's covered. Let's just get you better, OK?"
He was drawing the line in the sand, though it had been him out there with his hands trailing my skin. Like I was different, special, like he needed to do it more than anything else. I felt so confused in that blindsided kind of way. "OK," I said softly.
"Don’t be upset with me. I'm sorry if I overstepped. I'm sorry if I…gave you the wrong impression." He smiled. It was fake and didn't reach his eyes in the slightest. "I'll see you tomorrow for your session and we'll work extra hard to get you going, all right?"
So, he was back to patronizing me. That tone, so formal and placating. I just nodded and looked at the sheets. They may as well have been my prison bars.
He shuffled out and stopped at the door. He looked back and licked his lips. "What's best for everyone is you getting better. That's why I'm here."
I didn't answer. None was needed.
He closed the door gently and after staring after him, confused and angry and completely alone in my own little world, I fought stupid tears.
I took out the book once more. Snails can sleep for three years without eating.
Snail comas. Welcome to my world.
Useless Fact Number Six
Every time you sneeze, brain cells die.
The next time Andy came to see me, I told him that I needed to take a break from him. That I appreciated his help and visits, but I wanted to really buckle down and focus on my therapy so that I could get out sooner and get back to reality. Get back to him. The fact that last part wasn't true didn’t matter. It placated him enough to where he seemed just as anxious for me to work hard as I was. He said it was good that I had decided this because he needed the afternoons for baseball practice at school instead of coming to see me.
He hadn't known how to bring it up to me, he said. How convenient.
This wasn't about Mason though. I told myself that, basically believed it, but it was more about me. I had to start taking my fate into my own hands.
The next few weeks brought plenty of action and events. I focused harder on the therapy and tried to focus less on Mason. He seemed to be doing the same. My crabby old neighbor and Mrs. Betty, one of the nurses, played cards with me sometimes. I knew it was for boredom, but had seen Mrs. Betty watching my hands and Mrs. Robinson's. I knew it was also a therapy thing and my hands holding the cards ached and burned while we did it.
I had renewed vigor, which led to stamina, which led to more workouts, which led to exhaustion, which led to tons of sleep, which led to healing, which led to me walking.
All.
By.
Myself.
This simple task, this simple thing that we all take for granted, that's so cute and monumental when a baby takes his first steps...but these first steps were so much more than that. Though I cried like a baby, I wasn't one. And though my mother cooed and fawned over me (because I had invited them that day to come because I just knew that day was going to be the day) I wasn't a toddler. I was me. I was finally getting a little piece of myself back. And though I tried so hard not to, my eyes drifted to the one person in the room that I knew would understand all this better than anyone else.
Mason's eyes were already on me from across the parallel walking bars. This time, I didn't shy away from his gaze. I knew that our terms were shaky, but so was I, and I needed the stability of my lifeline. As our gazes collided, I expected a smile and happiness, but I didn't expect the level of pride and utter joy to be so prominent. The man was bursting at the seams with it. It filled his face and the smile he wore was the beautiful one that made me feel like everything was going to be OK.
His lips parted and even in the loud room, I could still hear his breath. He said quietly, "You did it, Em." He moved forward and touched my arm. It was the first time he had touched me in weeks that had nothing to do with therapy. "I'm so proud of you."
As his fingers circled my elbow, and I tried not to shiver in his grasp, I asked softly, knowing the answer, "You didn't believe that I was going to walk again someday?"
"Of course I did." He smiled wider. "But today was the first time that you've ever believed it."
He was right. Having faith and having hope were not the same thing, and I was just now understanding that.
"Thank you for having faith in me. I wanted to, but I…"
"I know." His fingers that had calluses from working hard moved against my cheek like I more than mattered. "It's hard. I know."
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the bugged-eyed look on my mother at seeing Mason's affection to me, but it was the fact that he was actually showing me affection that had me stunned and careless if she saw or not. Mr. Garner had also looked up from his clipboard, but Mason was all that mattered.
"It's just going to get harder, isn't it?"
"Afraid so." His smile was easy. He moved closer and stood right in front of me, putting his hands on the sides of my waist. He squeezed his hands a little into my skin. "I've got you."
I relinquished my death-grip on the bar and gripped his upper arms instead. When my nose bumped into his chest, I almost laughed, but as I looked up I saw how close his face was. It was the closest his lips had ever been to mine. He didn't move away, just watched me. After the moment grew, an awkward little smile began to tug at his mouth. I followed suit and soon, we were both grinning.
I moved closer and we did a tandem-step routine all the way to my wheelchair. I hated the thing, but after workouts it was necessary because I was all tapped out. Isabella, or uh, my mother, said she would see me the next day. She had some dinner meetings with my father's work and needed to go, but said she'd be back. She leaned down, and though she seemed weird about it, she kissed my cheek and said how proud she was of me.
After she was gone, Mason began to wheel me back to my room. I felt his lips press on my ear. "How about I go get you a real dinner? No prison food for you tonight."
I managed not to shiver, just barely. "Doesn't really matter. Eating alone…it doesn't matter what you're eating."
"You won't be eating alone tonight."
I pushed my door open with my foot and held on to him as he lifted me easily to put me back in the bed. "You're staying with me for dinner?"
"Sure. If that's OK with you." He folded the chair and put it off to the side. He came back to the bed and sat, putting his hand on my knee over the covers. His fingers moved in a swirl and he smiled. "Would that be OK?"
"Of course. I just don't…"
He scratched his arm, pushing his sleeve up, causing his tattoo to show. He seemed nervous. "It's different being with you for therapy and being with you because I've missed you.
I miss the smile that you seem to have only when I'm around and not being a jackass."
Should I ask him and risk ruining this moment? "What changed? I thought you said you needed this job."
"I do," he agreed, "but you worked your butt off. You took a step, so…so will I."
I felt myself smile just a bit. "You don’t have to do that."
He looked at the blanket and licked his lips. "I want to," he said softly and looked up at me. "Gah, Emma…I want to so badly."
I didn't know what to say, but it didn't matter. He stood and took my hand in his.
"I'll be back." He kissed my palm and there was no way to stop the gasp that came from my lips. And there was no way the small noise, groan, whatever, that came from his throat was imagined either. "I'll be back really soon. And then we'll…talk."
I nodded. He rubbed his head and chuckled as he made his way out.
I waited. After twenty minutes, I turned on the TV and after an hour, I started to feel stupid. Mrs. Betty usually brought me dinner at night and came by for the second time, asking me again if I wanted some dinner. "It's just that this is my last round, so there won't be anything for you after this. I'd hate for you to go to bed hungry because you're waiting for him."
"But he said he'd be right back," I sulked.
"He probably had an emergency. Mason has lots of emergencies."
What did that mean? She lifted a brow that said Take the food, silly. "All right. Do you have any sandwiches?"
"I got the best darn grape-chicken sandwich this side of the Mason-Dixon." She handed it to me. I looked at it skeptically, all wrapped in cellophane and not what I wanted to eat tonight.
"Thanks," I murmured. "Though technically, I have no idea what it tastes like anyway." I pointed to my head in jest. "I'm amnesiafied. Remember, Mrs. Betty."
She smiled and went on. "I'm sure he had a good reason. Mason's not the kind of guy who leaves a girl hanging. He's one of the most responsible boys I know."
"He is not a boy," I said wryly, and she smirked at me from the doorway.
"Well, I guess not." She smiled in a knowing way. "I've leave you to your gourmet meal."
