Room for Recovery

by D. J. Jamison

  Something about that kid rubbed Wade the wrong way, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Miles always took off as soon as Wade turned up, so it wasn’t like he had much chance to grill him.

  Beau shifted in the passenger seat, face turned to the window. Conversation had been stilted that afternoon. Beau was quieter than usual, and Wade wasn’t sure how to bring him out of his shell. Usually, their conversations were the other way around.

  He cleared his throat. “So, what made you want to volunteer? You just born with the Good Samaritan gene?”

  His joke fell flat. Beau barely looked at him as he answered. “I’m sure you think it fits with my goody-two-shoes personality.”

  Okay, so Beau was still ticked about the throwaway comment Wade had made that morning. Beau had given him grief for being rude to Miles, and Wade had responded in his usual fashion. Not everyone can be a Goody two-shoes like you, Beau. I don’t like Miles, so why pretend?

  Truthfully, Wade admired Beau’s good nature. He was nice, sweet and generous in a way Wade could never be. He was too self-involved to think of other people’s feelings.

  “I didn’t mean that.” He reluctantly added, “Or maybe I did. My mom always talks about how perfect you are. She wishes your good influence would rub off on me.”

  He stopped, mortified by his phrasing, but Beau didn’t seem to notice the slip.

  “I’m not perfect.”

  “Well, compared to me, you’re an angel. Volunteering is just one more reason to polish that halo of yours.”

  Beau snorted. “It’s less altruistic than you think.” He finally looked at Wade properly as the car came to a stop in the hospital parking lot. “Volunteering at the hospital is a good thing to do and I like helping people, but I’m also trying to figure out what to do with my life. I volunteered here because I was considering nursing school, and I wanted to be sure it’d be a good fit.”

  “Nursing? Not—”

  “Not medical school, no. Everyone thinks I should be a doctor. Why?”

  “Well, you’re smart. You’ve got the grades. You probably could get an awesome scholarship.”

  “And I could spend the next eight years in school,” Beau said, “and probably miss the last years of Gran’s life. No, thanks.”

  “I didn’t think about that,” Wade said. Gran seemed so solid, a central figure in the James household who should always be there, age be damned. “She’s okay, right? She’s not sick?”

  Beau sighed, and the corners of his lips tipped in a smile. “I knew you cared more than you let on. She’s not sick, but she’s not young.”

  “Yeah,” Wade said. “But she’d want you to pursue your dreams, wouldn’t she?”

  Beau nodded toward the building. “I guess. But I should get inside.”

  “I’ll walk you in,” Wade said.

  If Beau was surprised, he didn’t show it. But Wade was surprised at himself. He usually dropped Beau off, but today he wasn’t ready to interrupt their conversation. Maybe because they hadn’t done much talking after Wade’s rude comment that morning. He was trying not to be such a jerk these days, but he’d spent years being purposely brutal with his words. It took time to overcome that instinct.

  They crossed the parking lot and entered the ER doors, then took an elevator to the second floor. He had no idea where Beau was headed or why he was following him like a lost puppy. Only that he enjoyed talking with Beau more than he’d ever imagined he would. And these car rides gave him an opportunity to get to know Beau without the prying eyes of their family members watching.

  Beau continued their conversation as they walked.

  “I can pursue dreams close to home. Nursing appeals to my do-gooder side,” he said with a wry smile. “I haven’t made up my mind yet, but I’m running out of time to do anything else. I’m feeling kind of stressed about that, because I really should know by now, right?”

  Wade bit back a laugh. “You’re asking me?”

  Beau grinned. “The blind leading the blind, huh?”

  “More like the totally incapacitated leading the blind,” Wade said.

  Beau blurted a laugh, his whole face lighting up with humor, and Wade’s insides warmed. I did that. I made him laugh.

  He realized he wanted to do that again. Re-create that feeling.

  “Well, maybe you should be a doctor,” Beau suggested.

  Wade couldn’t check his groan. “Fuck no.”

  “Crap, I’m sorry. That was a dumb thing to say, considering what happened with your dad.”

  It wasn’t about his father, not really. Despite Byron Ritter being a surgeon, Wade didn’t know the doctor, he knew the father. He remembered his dad teaching him to ride a bicycle when he was five, hit a baseball at age seven, and fly a drone when he turned fourteen (that was especially cool). Despite working a lot of hours, he tried to make time for his family. He didn’t always succeed, of course. Wade remembered his father dashing out of family meals after getting a call from the hospital. He remembered him apologizing for missing a birthday party. But mostly, he remembered his dad being there — until suddenly he wasn’t.

  Wade had been devastated to lose his father. But he also felt guilty to know their last conversation had disappointed his father, possibly even pushed him to make such a decision. It was awful to never have the chance to earn his approval, to never have answers to the questions that circled in Wade’s head.

  Why did he do it? Did it have anything to do with me? Would he have come around, or would he want me to pretend like I do now?

  How could he leave us all behind if he loved us?

  “Wade? You okay?”

  He blinked back to the present. Beau watched him with concern. “That was a thoughtless comment,” Beau said. “Sorry.”

  “Nah, it’s fine,” Wade said, realizing they’d come to a stop outside the gift shop. “Science just isn’t my thing, especially the more biological side.”

  He shuddered, and Beau grinned. “Dissecting fetal pigs isn’t up your alley? Once you get into medical school, you get to work on human cadavers.”

  Wade followed Beau inside. “Dude, I’m fucked up, but I’m not a serial killer.”

  Beau glanced over his shoulder, eyes sparkling. “Good to know.”

  Wade held Beau’s gaze a fraction too long. When his heart flipped in his chest, he pulled his eyes away and took in the small shop. A spinning rack of get-well and sympathy cards stood in the center of the room, and shelves overflowed with stuffed bears in all shapes and sizes, as well as a few other animals: giraffes, penguins and unicorns were all jumbled together. But the vast majority of the gift shop was actually a flower shop. The room was perfumed by the display bouquets arranged on a table, while still more flowers were tucked into coolers along one wall.

  “This is where you volunteer?”

  When Wade thought of hospital volunteer work, he pictured Beau emptying bed pans or mopping up bodily fluids, not … flowers.

  “Yep. Deliveries to patients’ rooms, mostly. Sometimes I escort patients to or from rooms if the staff is busy.” He shrugged. “It’s not like they can let me participate in actual medical care. I’m not trained for anything.”

  A middle-aged woman approached. She had brown hair pulled back into a casual ponytail and no makeup. Her smile was nice, though.

  “Beau! Nice to see you, sweetie.” She hugged him, then glanced at Wade. “You bring me a new volunteer?”

  “How about it, Wade?” Beau teased. “You want to volunteer? Hannah is super nice to work with, as long as she gets enough coffee.”

  Hannah laughed and flicked his ear. “Hush, you.”

  Wade attempted to glare at Beau, but the boy’s smile about did him in. “Probably not, but thanks for the offer.”

  “Well, let me know if you change your mind,” Hannah said. “Beau, when you’re ready, come on over to the counter. I don’t have any orders yet, so no rush.”

  Once she’d walked away, Beau turned to him. “Volunteering is too
Goody Two-shoes for you, huh?”

  Wade made a face. “You’re never going to let that go, are you? You know I’m an asshole. Can’t you take what I say with a grain of salt?”

  “Nope. You don’t get a free pass on what you say to people. I’m not going to let you fall back on the old excuse that you’re just a jerk. And that’s what it is, Wade. An excuse. You’re not really a jerk.”

  “Uh, pretty sure I am.”

  “You act like one, but you can stop. You’ve shown me that much.”

  Wade frowned. This conversation wasn’t going the way he planned. Not that he had a plan. Why the hell had he come in anyway?

  “Beau, we’ve got an order of flowers to go up to surgical recovery,” Hannah called as she put down the phone receiver.

  “Okay, be right there.” Beau turned back to Wade. “Want to come along? You can shadow me and see what Goody Two-shoes do with their time.”

  Wade chuckled, amused that Beau was giving him hell. He realized he kind of liked Beau giving him shit. He opened his mouth to respond in kind when his phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen.

  Katy. Shit, he’d forgotten she needed a ride from those cheerleader tryouts.

  “I’ve got to go,” he said abruptly.

  Beau’s smile faltered. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got somewhere to be,” Wade said. It was good that he did. He’d probably end up hanging around all night otherwise, eating up every little scrap of attention Beau threw his way. He couldn’t be that guy.

  Wade nodded toward the flowers. “Go make some lives a little brighter, you do-gooder. I’ll see you later.”

  ***

  All the women in Wade’s life were angry with him. He held the phone out a little farther from his ear as Anna’s voice went up an octave.

  “You stood me up, Wade! I felt like an idiot waiting around the movie theater alone.”

  He winced. “I didn’t stand you up—”

  “You did—”

  “I told you, I’m grounded.”

  Never before had he been so glad to be grounded. He’d forgotten he told Anna he’d see some chick flick with her this week. He’d barely been paying attention at the time she asked, and now he was paying for his indifference.

  “You should have called. You left me waiting for you …” Her voice was teary now, and he felt sick to his stomach. Ashamed he’d come to this. Anna was a nice girl. Unlike some of the girls he’d dated who were entirely shallow, she seemed to genuinely care, which made it so much worse. He hated himself at times like this.

  “I’m sorry, Anna. I forgot.”

  “You really forgot? You didn’t do this on purpose?”

  “I didn’t blow you off on purpose. Come on. You’re my girlfriend.”

  She sniffled on her end of the line. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. Sometimes you seem so far away.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’ll do better.”

  In that moment, he meant it. He might not be invested in Anna the way she was in him, but she was a good friend. She was sweet, never without a kind word about others. She volunteered at the animal shelter, worked part time and belonged to so many school clubs that she barely had any time for him — which had made her the perfect candidate for Wade’s girlfriend. With her schedule so packed, his obligations mostly amounted to the occasional make-out session in school hallways.

  He realized now, with some unease, that she and Beau weren’t so different. Both do-gooders of the highest order. Both too good for Wade.

  A knock interrupted his phone call. “Dinnertime,” his mother called.

  He said his goodbyes gratefully and went down to face the other two women who were less than pleased with him. Katy had been in tears when he arrived to pick her up that afternoon.

  “What’s the big deal? I was like five minutes late,” he’d said to her.

  “More like fifteen.”

  “So, how did tryouts go?”

  “Horrible! I fell and humiliated myself, and all I wanted to do was leave. Instead, I had to stand around while everyone stared at me. Because you weren’t here!”

  The rest of the ride home had been filled with tween-age hysterics, and their mother hadn’t been happy to hear the news that he’d been late to pick up Katy after insisting he could do it. But he was so used to her displeasure it rolled right over him.

  Wade had retreated to his room to listen to music. But somehow, he’d spent time scrolling Facebook instead — stopping on Beau’s page again, but still not accepting the friend request that had been pending for so long — when Anna’s phone call had interrupted. He’d almost let her go to voicemail. He was glad now he hadn’t.

  “Sit,” his mother said without preamble when he got to the table.

  Wade pulled out his chair and sat down, accepting the plate passed his way without a word. Just when he thought they’d get through the meal in complete silence, his mother sighed. “So, how was Beau today?”

  He paused, unsure what to say. “He’s good.”

  “Are you friends now?” she asked in a careful tone. As if she were afraid to spook him.

  He weighed his response. On the one hand, his mother would be ecstatic if he were friends with Beau. On the other, she’d probably be annoying as hell about it. She’d either gloat about being right that Beau was a good influence, or she’d interrogate him about the state of their friendship every day. He could do without either option.

  “I don’t know about friends, but we’re like family.”

  She smiled. “That’s true. I’m glad you think that way.”

  He shrugged. “Anyway, he was fine. I dropped him at the hospital for his volunteer shift, and he said Trent would take him home tonight. So … Good Samaritan duty is done for the day.”

  She smiled, shifting the conversation to Katy, and he kind of wished he could shoot Beau a text and make a joke about how he was the do-gooder in this scenario. At least as far as his mother was concerned. But he and Beau still didn’t do casual messaging. Outside of updating each other about pick-up details, they didn’t text. And outside of their car rides, they didn’t talk. Beau had waved at Wade at school, smiled in his direction, and Wade had nodded to him but otherwise kept his distance.

  He wasn’t looking to become besties with Beau. They weren’t friends, not really. He hadn’t been lying to his mother.

  But maybe it was time for that to change.

  ***

  Beau stared at the notification he’d just received about Wade Ritter: You are now connected on Messenger.

  Wade must have added him on Facebook. Beau fully believed that would never happen. Even with their moms encouraging them to connect back when Wade didn’t know anyone in town, he’d ignored Beau’s friend request.

  So, what did it mean that he accepted it now?

  Wade remained distant at school. Beau had been embarrassed when he’d walked right by without even acknowledging him the week before. Ker had been so pissed she told Beau he should ask out Miles. He’d been chatting with Miles more in class, and he’d joined Beau and his friends for lunch a couple of times. Beau wasn’t confident he was reading him right, but Ker was all for Beau testing the waters.

  She knew, just as well as Beau did, that his crush on Wade was unhealthy. He wasn’t sure asking out Miles would make it disappear. It had taken root, even when he didn’t know Wade, and now that they were talking to each other, it grew stronger every day.

  When he first met Wade three years ago, he wasn’t immediately a jerk. He was withdrawn. If they were in a room full of people, Wade would be in the farthest corner from everyone else. He didn’t smile or laugh. He wore headphones and stared out the window mostly.

  Beau’s little fifteen-year-old heart had been smitten immediately. It had yearned to break through the melancholy that hung over Wade. Maggie, too, had been taken with him. Wade was a cute kid, with shiny blond hair and blue eyes. Neither one of them stood a chance.


  But while Beau hung back, watching and waiting after Wade had brushed off his first few attempts at friendship, Maggie charged ahead. She pestered Wade in that way little sisters seem to master at a young age. She asked him questions, and when he shrugged, she asked him more. She ignored his indifference, offering to show him the television, to play a board game, to take him out to the tire swing.

  Finally, one day, Wade wasn’t quiet anymore.

  “Leave me alone!” he’d exclaimed after she’d followed him onto the back porch, and Beau had watched from a distance. “I’m never going to like you; do you get that? You’re just a stupid little girl who doesn’t know crap about the world. So, let me make it simple for you: I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you. So, go play with your dolls or whatever it is you do.”

  Maggie had burst into tears and never spoken to him again. Unlike Beau, she was not a glutton for punishment.

  Even as Beau walked into that room and stood up to Wade for the first time, he’d been unable to let go of a small sliver of hope that they’d one day be friends.

  “You don’t have to be mean,” he’d said.

  “Obviously I do. You guys won’t leave me alone. I don’t want to be friends, you know? Not with her and not with you. Not with anybody.”

  Beau squashed the disappointment, not wanting Wade to see how the rejection hurt. He’d shrugged. “Your loss.”

  All these years later, staring at the friendship Wade had extended via social media, he wasn’t sure that statement had been true. He’d felt the loss keenly, though it was for something he never had. He felt the loss of what might have been. The friendship he could have formed with that beautiful but sad boy.

  He clicked Wade’s name on messenger and tapped out a message.

  I knew you liked me.

  He watched with bated breath, regretting the tease once he’d hit send. What if Wade took it too seriously? What if he thought Beau meant like as in … like? Ugh. So stupid. He should just put his phone away and forget about it.