“You should come back with us.” Lori gestures toward the ICU.
“I’m not family.”
“Dorothy …”
“I’ll check in tomorrow after school.”
Lori frowns. “Okay. We’ll make sure someone contacts you if anything changes.”
“Great. Thanks.”
I power walk straight out of the hospital.
“I noticed Dr. Hathaway was next to Eli’s dad, getting ready to go back with them to see Eli. Is she really still family?” Mom asks.
“I don’t know. I don’t care. He probably won’t wake up while they’re there. No need to stand in the corner of the room, watching a machine help him breathe.”
“Why was he planning on visiting you so late?” She follows me out the door.
“He wanted to talk. At first, he made it sound like he wanted to talk about my date with Dr. Warren. But I don’t know why that would be. I think it must have been something else because his messages seemed urgent.” I get in Mom’s Ford Escape.
“Wait … you went on a date with Dr. Warren?” She closes her door and starts the car.
“Yes.” I lean my head against the headrest. “I was going to tell you about it, but you were asleep, and then I just forgot about it, more like blocked it from my memory. He took me for fondue. I just couldn’t. It was so gross. I can’t believe those restaurants are even legal. It’s just a melting pot of nasty germs. A haven for chronic double-dippers. I’m not gonna lie, my stomach hasn’t been right ever since. I think I caught something. Tomorrow I’m going to request blood and stool tests. Legit, I ate one bite, the first one, but you know they don’t wash those pots between customers. They just pour in more milk and cheese, crank up the heat, and assume it will self-decontaminate from the heat. Wrong!”
“Wait … did you and Eli break up?”
Wow, she doesn’t seem to care about my fondue distress at all.
“No. I mean … I don’t know what we are or were. It’s not like we talked about it. We have sex. Good sex. But I’m not sure mutually sharing autonomic nervous system responses necessarily makes us a couple.”
“Autonomic what?”
“Orgasms. We have sex. I told you last Sunday that staying the night was a complete disaster. We’re not spooning and whispering I love you’s. It’s like hooking up, but with food, and sometimes a playdate with Roman. And he didn’t want me to tell Dr. Warren about us, and Warren had already asked me out and I’d accepted. So what choice did I have? I went on the awful fondue date, but I told him with plenty of notice that we would not have sex. I’m not interested in having sex with anyone but Eli right now.”
“Yes, Dorothy.” Mom laughs. “Sex with only one person. It’s called monogamy. You’re in a monogamous relationship with Eli. You’re a couple. You’re his girlfriend.”
I wrinkle my nose, not really believing her reasoning, even if it does kind of make sense when I repeat it in my head.
“Whatever.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Could It Be Love?
Elijah
Lights.
Way too bright.
Beeping.
Way too loud.
Pain.
Way too excruciating.
Fuck …
Everything hurts. Even my eyelids protest, especially my left eye. It takes me a little bit to realize I can’t open it.
My throat …
Something’s in my throat.
The sounds. My eye. My throat … I’m in the hospital. What happened?
The echo of voices thwarts my attempts to think back … to remember what happened.
Jesus … am I even alive? My head …
Yeah, I’m alive. Dead people don’t feel this kind of pain. Death doesn’t exactly sound terrible at the moment.
“Eli?”
Fucking hell! Ya mind not shining that light in my eye?
“Eli?” Mom.
My mom is here.
I force my right eye open a little more. The room dims a bit like someone dimmed the lights or shut the shades. The tube down my throat prevents me from thanking whomever did that, but I’m nonetheless thankful.
Mom … Her pensive face comes into focus.
“Eli. They’re going to remove your breathing tube.”
That’s great. Except I know from my medical training that removing tubes is not exactly the best experience for the patient. I like being the doctor. The patient? Not so much.
I follow the instructions as if I don’t know them plenty well.
Suction.
Deflate.
Remove.
I cough a few times before they put an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose.
Mom smiles as Dad comes into my line of sight. My one-eyed line of sight.
“Do you know what happened?” Mom asks as a medical team mills around my bed, checking vitals, monitors, reflexes.
My head eases side to side. It’s stiff. But it moves, so that’s a really good sign.
“You fell while out on the trail. It was a long fall. You’re going to be fine.”
I don’t remember that. Maybe that’s for the best. I just remember Dorothy and Warren and their fondue date. Date … how could she have sex with me and go out with him two nights later? Ha! I don’t like that memory, but it sure as hell feels good to know I have memories. So my head injuries can’t be that severe.
“How … long?”
“Two days.” Mom smiles again. Of course she smiles. I’m alive and only have been in a coma for two days. Good news indeed. It could have been two years. Two years for Roman to forget me. Two years for Julie to remarry. Two years of not saving young lives. Two years for Dorothy to fall in love with Dr. Warren.
“Kendra and Molly will be here soon. Julie was going to get Roman dinner and take him to Peggy’s, but your dad just texted her, so she’s on her way now with Roman. He hasn’t been to the hospital since your accident. We didn’t want him seeing you unconscious.”
“Good,” I say in a hoarse voice.
“Dorothy said she’d check in on you after the end of her shift. I messaged her and she sent a string of emojis. She seems pretty excited to know you’re awake.”
“Okay.” I inwardly smile because it’s hard to actually form one on my face. My lower lip hurts. It’s probably cut or stitched or ripped off. I’m not sure.
While we wait for the rest of my family, they remove my oxygen mask and give me some ice chips. Mom continues to quiz me on my accident, but I can’t remember it. I remember everything else she asks me, which seems to please her and the other doctors.
“Daddy!”
Julie keeps a firm hold of Roman’s hand as he tries to sprint toward my bed. “Remember, Daddy is a little fragile right now. We have to be careful with him.” She lifts him up and sets him on the side of my bed. She smiles at me. It’s filled with a little sadness, but mostly relief. And for the first time in what feels like forever, I don’t sense anything like resentment or guilt. It feels like the way my wife used to smile at me.
“Your eye. Daddy, look! Your eye is scary.”
“Yeah, well, it will get better soon. I won’t look scary forever.”
Julie uses one arm to keep Roman from getting too rough around me while her other hand squeezes mine. Tears fill her eyes. “I was so scared, Eli.”
I squeeze her hand back. “I’m sorry.”
She quickly wipes the stray tear from her cheek and laughs. “Don’t apologize. I’m just …” She swallows hard. “I’m just so relieved you’re here. It could have …” Her words break as more tears fill her eyes.
“Hey.” I squeeze her hand again. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
My mom hands Julie a tissue while Roman tries to climb off the bed.
Later my sisters and their families arrive. Everyone seems relieved to see me awake. Lots of tears. It must have been bad. Again, I’m happy for the tiny bit of memory loss.
“Dorothy, no! Come back here,” my mom calls,
slipping out of the room. “Don’t be scared off. It’s just family. Come in, dear.” She ushers Dorothy into the room.
Dorothy still has on her work scrubs, red with a royal blue undershirt and royal blue Nikes. Tucking her hair behind her ears, her gaze darts around the roomful of people. Her discomfort can’t be as bad as mine, but I still feel a pang of unease on her behalf.
“Dorfee!” Roman runs to her and gives her a high five.
Julie’s expression stays neutral, like she’s trying to act unaffected, but even with only one working eye at the moment, I don’t miss her tiny flinch.
“Little Romeo, I’ve missed you.” Dorothy smiles at Roman before finally giving me her gaze.
I need those honest eyes on me. They tell me everything she’s afraid to say.
“I fear we’re going to get in trouble for having too many people in here. Why don’t we grab dinner?” Mom suggests.
Everyone says goodnight to me while Dorothy backs into the corner of the room like she’s trying to disappear.
“Come here.” I hold out my hand after the door to the room closes and it’s just us.
“Thanks for not dying.” She laughs nervously while taking my hand.
“You’re welcome.” I ease my hand up so our palms are flat against each other.
She stares at our hands as I lace our fingers together.
“I love you.”
Her gaze shoots to mine, eyes wide, lips parted.
“I do. And I tried to die without saying it. And that was just stupid on my part. So in case I throw a clot or take some unexpected turn, I just want you to know. I love you, Dorothy Mayhem.”
It’s not that I intend for my declaration to be a surprise, but clearly it’s quite the shocker. I chuckle then grimace. My ribs aren’t ready for laughter. “It’s not a question. Okay? It requires no answer, no acknowledgment.”
She nods slowly, returning her gaze to our interlaced fingers. I bring them to my face, gently brushing my lips (kinda swollen lips) over her fingers. Dorothy has a way of taking away my pain, and I feel certain she has no idea the effect she has on me.
“I fear I could fall behind with closing my rings for a while.”
A smile forms along her perfect lips. “Ya think?”
“I’m glad you came over the other night. I might need those memories to make it through the healing process.”
Her cheeks bloom red. “I was reading about orgasms.”
Yeah, I love her. And I feel certain I will die a happy man if she starts every conversation with “I was reading about orgasms.”
She continues, “You know the Lazarus reflex?”
“Yes.”
“Well, did you know that if you were only being kept alive by machines, so basically dead, that as long as your sacral nerve is being oxygenated, you can be stimulated to have an orgasm? Like giving a dead person an orgasm. That’d be the way to go out, right?”
It all hurts so bad, but so very good at the same time. My grin pulls at my swollen lip, and my laughter pulls at my fractured ribs, but I welcome the pain because Dorothy Mayhem makes life pretty fucking amazing. “Do I want to know how this all came about?”
She shrugs. “Just something I thought about when they didn’t know if you’d wake up.”
“Were you going to suggest I get one last orgasm before they unplugged me? Please say yes. If you do, I think I’ll make sure you’re legally responsible for making all final decisions for me if I go under again.”
Dorothy giggles. “I’ve seen ultrasounds of babies masturbating in the womb. It’s only fitting to go out with the same simple-minded pleasure with which you came into this world.”
The question begs to be asked … why was Dorothy so thoroughly researching orgasms? But I don’t ask the question because it’s Dorothy Mayhem. I expect the unexpected from her. It’s one of the things that made me fall so fast and so hard for her.
“You should sleep. And I haven’t been home yet, so lots to do before work tomorrow.”
“Like masturbate?”
“What? No!” She releases my hand and curls her hair behind her ears again.
“Rumor has it I could be in this joint for another week. Think you could smuggle in a pizza some night?”
There it is … that smile. God, it’s oxygen. “Maybe.”
“Drive safely, Dorothy.”
She nods, lips twisted as her gaze makes a slow inspection from my toes to my head. Then she leans over and kisses my cheek. “Goodnight,” she whispers.
I take a slow breath as she walks to the door and close my eye when she disappears around the corner.
“Eli?”
I open my eye again.
She peeks her head around the corner, teeth planted into her bottom lip.
“Yes?”
“I do too.”
“You do too?” I ask.
“Love you. I think I love you too.” She shrugs. “So now you know, just in case you don’t wake up in the morning.”
How incredibly morbid … and … perfect. Three words don’t fit Dorothy. A simple “I love you” would not feel right coming out of her mouth in this moment. Nope. It has to be six. Six is infinitely better than three.
I think I love you too.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Homebound
Dorothy
I keep my routine for the most part. I need routine, especially with Eli in the hospital and his family visiting at randomly different times. Several times I consider suggesting we make up a schedule so his room isn’t stuffed to the limit with visitors. But they seem to enjoy the large gathering, and so does Eli. So I never get the nerve to say anything.
On his last night in the hospital, I stop by after my shift, assuming—hoping—the later hour will grant me some alone time with Eli.
No such luck.
Instead, his parents and Julie are here, discussing his home care. They smile when I slip into the room, even Julie’s smile looks a little more genuine.
“Hi, sweetie.” Lori smiles.
They continue discussing who will take care of Eli until he can get around on his own.
As I take a seat in the corner of the room, Eli winks at me before returning his attention to his mom.
“I’m taking off two days a week to be with you. Your dad will take a day off too. Molly is going to see about taking one morning, but she’s not sure yet. I really think we should consider an in-home nurse just during the day. And I’ll stay over during the nights.” His mom brushes his bangs away from his face.
“I can do two days. And I’ll do nights and weekends too,” Julie announces.
“Jules …” Eli starts to speak.
“It’s fine. I’ve already arranged for two of my colleagues to cover some days for me until you’ve recovered. Then my mom can have a break from watching Roman. She and my dad have been wanting to take a vacation anyway. And Roman can take a break from daycare.” Julie rests her hand on Eli’s arm.
As for me … I want to slink out of the room before anyone looks in my direction.
Too late.
Eli studies Julie with an unreadable expression before sliding his gaze in my direction. “Know any good in-home nurses?”
“Oh—” I do. I know several.
But Julie cuts me off. “Eli, don’t be ridiculous. Why would you want that? I’m giving you more time with Roman. Quality time. It’s the perfect solution, but you’d rather have some stranger help you to the bathroom? In and out of bed?”
Yes. I indeed need to get out of here. I like Boss Bitch. I love world renowned Dr. Hathaway. But Julie, Eli’s ex-wife, doesn’t make my favorite people list with her offer to help him to the bathroom and in and out of bed.
His parents and Julie follow his gaze, which happens to be on me like I’m the one with a decision to make. I don’t even want to be here, let alone weigh in on decisions.
“Thoughts, Dorothy?” Eli asks me.
Wow! No pressure.
“Roman would love
spending more time with you.” I make the mistake of giving Julie a quick glance. “Both of you.” My grin feels extra toothy. Extra everything. Do they notice my level of get-me-the-fuck-out-of-here discomfort? “I bet he’ll find it really fun. Lego time. Watching Kratt Brothers. And whatnot.”
Okay! Is everyone happy? Great. Can I leave now?
I hate conflict, so much so I have a terrible track record of putting myself in really uncomfortable positions to avoid dealing with certain situations. My parents find this particular trait frustrating. They think I constantly give up my own happiness because I don’t want to risk the chance of conflict. What they don’t really understand is avoiding conflict makes me happy.
“Do you want to talk privately about this?” Eli asks me, therefore three sets of eyes are on me.
“Not particularly.”
“Can you give us a minute?” he asks.
Lori and Kent don’t blink, they just nod and make their way out of the room. Julie … well, she shows a bit more reluctance to leave. Or maybe her hand is stuck to Eli’s arm.
“Jules, please.”
Jules … I kinda hate that he has a nickname for her. No nicknames for me. Nope. Just Dorothy. Some people try to call me Dot or Dottie. Those choices don’t sound as smooth or as cool as Jules. And I just hate Dot and Dottie. So I have to stick with Dorothy.
Jules squeezes his arm and nods. “I’ll be right outside.”
“Thanks.”
He watches her leave the room before giving me a solid grin. “Did you have a good day?”
“Did you clear the room just to ask me that?” I shuffle my sneakers toward him, sitting on the edge of his bed.
He rests his hand on my leg. “Sure. But for the record, I was planning on asking them to leave anyway, just to look at you without being interrupted.”
“Your eye looks so much better.”
“Better to see you with, my dear.”
Keep This Promise Page 187
