He has a hold on every inch of me and I can’t break the current until the count of twenty is finished and he releases my leg.
“Did you feel that one?” he asks, and I wonder for a split moment if he’s talking about the look we just shared. Of course he’s asking about my leg. I nod, trying to picture Jay holding my hand in that ambulance as Pierce and I continue stretching together.
When we’re ready to switch places he unstraps his prosthetic leg and removes it. Pulling off the rubber sock underneath, he slides everything to the side of the mat. Watching him feels oddly intimate. Grimly he lies back, holds his good leg up, and I move into position.
As I press against the back of his leg he watches the ceiling, face tough, and commands, “Harder!”
I dig into the mat and lunge my full weight against him. He grunts in response and I back off, but his strong arms draw around me and pull me toward him. He holds me against himself, his leg sandwiched between us.
He’s watching my lips and his breath is hot on my face. I feel a tremor run through him, but I don’t know if it’s from the strain of the stretch or if he’s showing as much restraint as I am.
He wants me.
Everything is reduced
to our matched breathing,
until someone drops a barbell with a thud and
the rest of the room comes back into focus. Rita is talking intently to Polly beside a rack of weighted pulleys, and Frank is holding his prosthetic arm up for a fake high five from Sparky.
Pierce releases me from our embrace. I clear my throat and become all business, addressing the task of helping him stretch his amputated leg. Without hesitating, I lift it and place both hands on the back of his up-stretched stump. His nostrils flair at my touch this time.
“You don’t have to…” he protests.
“You ready?” I press against the back of his thigh as I look forward, out the window. He doesn’t wrap his arms around me this time, but I count to twenty before releasing him.
Looking at my shoulder, he says, “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
When I try to hold him in a cradle stretch, the ridiculousness of my slender arms straining to gather around the bulk of his curled-up body makes us both smile. He hoists himself into position, but as soon as he relaxes into my hold he ends lying on top of me. We make a few attempts, but finally find ourselves in a laughing tangle on the mat.
The rest of the room has grown quiet, and Pierce must realize it the same time I do. Leaning against each other, we look around and see everyone’s attention aimed in our direction.
I spring up. “Um, did someone say some…” I trail off as everyone goes noisily back to what they were doing.
Pierce and I look at each other for a breath before he slides over and launches into a series of rapid sit-ups that are so intense it’s like he’s gone to another place in his head.
I think about what might have been between us if everything were completely different. If we were each whole. Pierce would probably still be on the other side of the globe. And Jay and I might be biking together, chasing down a fresh breeze. Or maybe kissing Jay would’ve been a onetime thing.
I sigh and lie down on the mat beside Pierce. Join him in doing enough sit-ups to block out everything except my burning stomach muscles and how much I want to stop.
13
By the time I’m limping toward Mom’s car my abdominal muscles are so cramped I can barely stand. Despite the pain, my endorphins are kicking, since after sit-ups Pierce and I hit the exercycles hard.
Climbing into the car, I catch a glimpse of him stepping into the woods.
“Who was that?” Mom points through the window to where Pierce disappeared.
I shrug and will myself not to blush. “Just some guy who lost his leg in the war.”
“Wow.” She glances at me. “He was watching you. He looked away when he saw me looking, but he was definitely watching you.”
I search for him through the trees but he’s gone, and I wonder again how far he walks each day. Mom doesn’t say anything more as she backs out of the Ulysses driveway and heads toward home.
“Jay should be at the house by the time we get there,” I say, reestablishing my boyfriend’s name and image in my mind.
“Good, your school supplies came today,” she says. “Maybe you two can look them over together.”
“He’s going to help me with English and French.” I think of how excited he was that I’m doing a unit on Shakespeare. “He’s kind of awesome, huh?”
“Yes, he kind of is.” Mom smiles.
My mind wings back to my body pressed against Pierce as we looked into each other’s eyes.
Slouching down in my seat, I put in my earbuds. Sometimes, it’s better to think about nothing.
That night after dinner Dad announces, “Time to discuss this year’s road trip.” Before anyone can respond he turns to Mom. “Since Dyna has therapy and Harley has his … job, I was thinking you and I could take the Harleys.” He smiles at her. “What do you say? Two weeks on the open road? It’ll be like old times.”
Mom frowns. “To be honest, I’ve been considering selling my bike. I just don’t know what the kids would do if something happened to us.”
Dad looks from Harley to me to Mom and says, “You’re kidding, right? The kids are grown. You and I are expert riders. This trip will be us reclaiming our freedom.”
“I just have an odd feeling and everyone knows that riding scared is a bad idea. Besides, we can’t go away now.” Mom gestures dramatically toward me. “Dyna is still recovering.”
“Dyna is the most independent and capable girl I’ve ever met.” Dad rises from the table. “If you’re looking for an excuse not to go, fine. But don’t act like Dyna needs you to sit around singing her lullabies.”
“It’s not an excuse. I’m just not ready to leave her alone.”
“Alone?” Dad shoots. “She could never be alone with Whitebread practically soldered to her side.”
Mom stands in a huff, defending Jay, and the next thing I know the two of them are arguing about the trip full-throttle. Dad lays into her about acting like such a nervous wreck until Mom finally can’t take it and starts screaming out in frustration every time he opens his mouth to speak.
“Listen, Beth—”
“Aaaaaaaa!”
“I’m just—”
“Aaaaaaaa!”
“I give—”
“Aaaaaaaa!”
For them it’s like singing a romantic duet.
Mom has always said we come from a long line of passionate people and passionate people do not sit around discussing things calmly. They scream and holler at their loved ones and sometimes throw endearingly small objects in their general direction. Harley and I quickly head out of the kitchen before Mom starts lobbing the plastic spice shakers again.
I prop myself up on the couch in the living room and loosen the straps to Son of Frankenfoot. Removing the brace, I try to ignore how scrawny my naked ankle looks as I feel for the plates and screws under my skin. Freaky. I trace my fingers along the scar that snakes partway up my shin. The scar from where my broken bone ripped through.
“Hey, your fall was what? Six weeks ago?” Harley must’ve been watching and sits down beside me. “If the two of them end up going, maybe you and I can spend a day on the mountain together.”
I shake my head at him. “I’m not even close to being ready for the mountain.”
“The last time I broke my tib I only took four weeks off.” He smiles. “You have that brace of yours. I can top-rope you up the rock face in your harness.”
“Thanks, bro. But I think I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourself, but trust me, it’s best to get back out there as soon as possible. Those doctors are just overly cautious so they don’t get sued.”
“I think I’ll take a chance listening to them, instead of my stoner brother.”
“Ouch. That stings.” He flicks me in the arm as he g
ets up to leave. “But I’m telling you, Dyna, you’re ready.”
By the next day my parents’ flaming battle has burned down into a compromise. Mom will let Dad drag her away from me, but no way is he getting her onto a motorcycle. For road trips we usually take our old conversion van named The Fantastic Vandura that’s parked near the woods behind our house. Mom says it’s Vandura or nothing.
Then she insists they delay their trip so she can go with me to my next doctor’s appointment after therapy on Monday. There, I’m told I need to work a little harder at PT. As young, healthy, and active as I am, they expected me to be ready to move to an Ace bandage by now. Instead, they want to see me again in two weeks. I guess I should’ve done a few of those hateful toe-crunches exercises after all.
By the time we get back to the house Dad has already loaded Vandura for their trip. Harley’s hanging out at the Ranch, but Dad has made him adjust his work schedule so he can drive me to and from therapy while they’re gone. His exact words to Harley were, “It’s the least you can do to take a little responsibility around this place.”
Mom says goodbye, letting me know she’ll come right back if I need her and warning me not to try to drive the car or do anything dangerous. She actually gets teary-eyed as she hugs me for the final time. Dad and I exchange glances over her shoulder and his look softens. I close my eyes and hug her back.
Mom drags the farewells out so long that Jay pulls into the driveway as we’re still standing around. After giving him a soul-withering look, Dad climbs into Vandura’s captain’s chair and starts barking that they need to go, “Now, now, now, Beth!” He points to his chest. “You are poking the bear!” We all know he’s about to rage, but Mom won’t leave until she makes Jay promise to take care of me.
Of course he swears he won’t let anything bad happen while she’s gone.
Finally, Mom and Dad pull out with no plan beyond “heading west.” The perfect vacation for them. Jay and I stand side by side on the deck waving as they back out of the driveway. Mom places her palm on the windshield, making it look like she’s being abducted by Dad. Which, I suppose, she sort of is.
“Okay, looks like I’m in charge while Mom and Dad are away.” Jay elbows me jokingly. I smile up at him for a beat before slipping inside the house. An unease seeps between us as we stand in the living room arm’s-length apart. The quiet blasts the alarm that we’re alone, Alone, ALONE and it feels like we should be heading straight to my bedroom.
Our make-out sessions haven’t really come close to the big S.E.X. But Jay is the most serious boyfriend I’ve ever had and things have definitely been on an intercourse trajectory.
What the hell were Mom and Dad thinking leaving me home alone with my boyfriend? Maybe they just can’t wait to be grandparents or something.
“You okay?” Jay is watching me and I notice he’s inched closer.
I nod and lean over to grab the remote and flip on the television. We sit down on the couch together, but he must sense the change in dynamic with no supervision, real or imagined. He plays with his earlobe nervously, and I release the Velcro straps on Son of Frankenfoot before realizing this may be misinterpreted as some sort of kinky erotic foreplay.
“Ankle’s sore,” I explain. “The doctor was a little rough examining it.” Jay springs up to ease my brace off and give me a massage. He’s extra-gentle with my exposed scars, not wanting to rub too close to where the damage is worst. When his hands begin to work their way up to my thigh I tense, and he drops back down to the portion of my leg that’s actually been injured. He mentions taking me to eat at my favorite bistro later as he expertly kneads he the arch of my foot. It feels so good I let out a groan.
Opening my eyes I see him smirking at me and realize my moans sound a little too much like “Dyna’s porno soundtrack.” “Sorry.” I blush.
He laughs as he continues massaging. “I understand you’ve been through a lot, Dyna.” He leans in closer. “I will absolutely wait until you’re ready for us to be intimate. And then probably wait beyond that because I don’t want to spoil what we have.” His eyes search my face. “But if you keep making those noises I’m going to have to go upstairs and take a cold shower.”
I clamp my lips shut in a display of chastity that makes him laugh. It’s as if he just read my mind and put all my fears to rest. There couldn’t be a more perfect guy to be with for my first time. Tender, caring, gentle. I reach up and caress the side of his smooth face a moment before leaning back on the couch.
“Maybe I’ll talk to my mom about going on the pill soon.” I hold my breath waiting for his reaction.
He looks at me and frowns. “One of my sisters got really depressed when she was on the pill,” he says. “It was awful. Plus, it increases chances of blood clots. Dyna, your body has been through so much trauma. I wouldn’t feel right about it.”
“Well, I don’t think they make a pill for guys and I can’t trust a condom on its own.” I think about the way one small defect in a flimsy rubber membrane could screw up my whole life, and I realize something. I sit up. “Hey, wait a minute. Did you bring one with you?” I accuse.
“What?” Jay’s green eyes are wide.
“A condom.” I reach over and start digging at his jean pockets. “Did you bring protection?”
“Dyna.” He tries to stop my hands. “Come on. I wouldn’t do that.”
“You had to consider the possibility, Jay. I mean, come on. Parents out of town. Place to ourselves.”
“Okay, yes, as a matter of fact I did think of it. And that’s why I purposely didn’t buy anything. I figured if things got out of control, taking a drive to RiteAid would slow us down. Give us a chance to get our heads together.” He rubs my arm. “We’ve only been together a little over six weeks, and that’s if we count the ambulance ride as our first date.”
“Oh, that totally counts,” I tease, starting to relax again. “I just don’t want you to have the wrong idea about me. Despite my mad skills at dirty-word Scrabble, it just so happens I’m a virgin.”
I try not to be hurt when Jay isn’t able to cover his surprise.
I really can’t blame him. He didn’t know much about me beyond my wild reputation when we started hanging out. And it feels good to have such an open discussion about our boundaries, rather than the typical grope-fest that usually goes on until I have to get firm with a guy and shut him down. This feels like the most healthy, mature relationship I could ever imagine.
And I’m happy knowing Jay will be my first. Now it’s just a matter of when.
14
Harley has been having fun teasing me about the way I constantly grab at the hand rest as he flies like a demon to and from Ulysses with the doors off his Jeep. Still, I’m not even a little bit surprised when I walk out of the center on Thursday and discover he isn’t waiting for me. He probably tried to squeeze in a little skydiving since the weather is gorgeous. I’m left standing alone like a loser in the middle of the parking lot.
“Good workout today,” Pierce says from behind me. I turn around and smile. The two of us got into yet another competition, and with my ankle brace wrapped tight I was able to hold a steady 60 RPMs on the exercycle. I’m still a little high from it.
He asks, “Where’s your ride?”
I check my phone, but it’s just as clueless as I am. “My folks are away and my big brother isn’t exactly super-reliable.” Leaning on my birchwood cane, I do a few deep knee bends so I don’t stiffen up.
Pierce offers, “You’re welcome to wait at my house. I’m right through the woods.”
I falter before deciding. “Sure, I’ll just text my brother a message to pick me up there. What’s the address?”
After all, I have been wondering how far the walk is to his house. But if this is so completely innocent my heart probably shouldn’t be beating quite this hard.
Despite their unevenness, our footsteps are quiet as I follow Pierce along the twisting trail. I breathe in the rich scent of things growing and t
hings decomposing and I smile up at the tangled leaves woven into an archway overhead. I have always adored trees from every angle, but this is my favorite.
The undersides of trees.
I am connected to something greater.
I’ve stopped walking and pull my attention from above to find Pierce watching me. I feel exposed.
“Just looking at the trees,” I say, tracing a root with my cane.
He nods and looks up. “I get it.”
We start moving forward again, and after about ten minutes we enter a clearing of high grass that leads to the cropped backyard of a stone house. We’re greeted at the tree line by a wirehaired beige mutt lurching awkwardly toward us through the tall grass. I can’t figure out what’s happening to make the dog flail back and forth like that.
Then I see and swing to face Pierce. “You have a three-legged dog?”
His grin is wide and genuine. “This is Anders.” He grabs the mutt behind both ears and playfully ruffles his head. When he lets go, the dog limps to me and nuzzles his nose deep into my crotch.
Pierce scolds, “Anders!” as I stagger. He grabs the dog’s collar and drags him out of my personal space. “Sorry about that.”
I laugh. “Where’d you get the name Anders?”
“‘The Steadfast Tin Soldier.’ By Hans Christian Andersen.”
I nod, trying to remember the story and thinking it has something to do with toys.
“My mom was on my case to get a helper dog after she read some article about soldiers committing suicide. I’m sure she imagined some nice golden retriever keeping me from offing myself after Afghanistan.”
“It is really hard to be sad around golden retrievers.”
Pierce laughs. “Yeah, well, instead of going to the pet store I headed straight to the pound, and as soon as I saw him I knew he was the one.” Pierce rakes his fingers down Anders’s back. “I was still getting used to my missing leg at the time, and he seemed totally cool with his.”
I reach down to pet Anders and he immediately flips to his back as if to ask, “But have you seen my belly?” I laugh. “He does seem to have a great outlook.”
Adrenaline Crush Page 8
