Killing Me Softly

by Devyn Dawson

  “You’re welcome. Next time, you should push the button on your pain pump. We weren’t allowed to push the button for you while you were out. It automatically administers the medicine, but when you have break-through pain you can push the little red button. They said it was a way of monitoring how bad you hurt, if you’re in horrible pain, you would push the button. I think it’s ridiculous, considering if you’re in a coma, you can’t push a button.” Tate’s face grimaces at the memory.

  “Wow, that’s dumb. That whiteboard over there says it’s July 24, that would mean I’ve been in here since July first. That’s three weeks!” I cough and another wave of pain hits me.

  Tate nods his head up and down. “Yeah, three weeks. Did the doctor give you any indication how long you’ll need to stay here?”

  I shake my head back and forth. “No, he just told me how lucky I am to have survived.”

  “That’s an understatement, they didn’t think you’d live that entire first week. They called your Aunt Laney a couple of times to come and say good-bye.” Tate takes my hand and kisses it, being careful not to disturb the IV that’s taped in place on the back of my hand. “What happened that day?”

  What did happen? How did he fool me into thinking he was being normal? Nothing about that evening was normal. Was he pretending throughout dinner? He was calculated in everything he did that night.

  “He told me we were going to go have ice-cream and asked to drive my car,” I choke back a sob as I talk. “He had been so nice through dinner, he asked about you and it felt normal. When he crashed….he…he…kept saying he didn’t want me to leave him…” Unable to say anymore, I just leaned back into the bed and stared at the ceiling. I still haven’t shed a tear and it makes me feel like such a bad person. As I try to breathe through the heaviness in my chest it’s almost too much to take.

  “It’s okay Holland, you’re safe now,” Tate says and stands up. Before I know what he’s doing, he kicks off his shoes and crawls into the bed with me. His arms gently go around me and we shift until my head is on his chest. For the first time since I woke up, I feel safe, as though nothing bad could ever happen again. “We don’t need to talk about the accident. Close your eyes and rest.”

  I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell him the events of that night. I’m too afraid he’d blame himself for something he can’t control. If he weren’t in the military, I’d never have met him. Instead of arguing about telling him the story, I escape into this moment, the one where I’m in his arms.

  ***

  “Miss Clifford, eh hem, Miss Clifford?”

  Someone is nudging me, “Holland, the nurse is here,” Tate whispers to me.

  Where am I? Oh yeah, I’m in the hospital.

  “Hi sleepyhead, I just need to draw some blood,” the nurse says.

  I look up at the clock and back at the nurse. “Is it really two?”

  “Yeah, I came in earlier but you two looked so comfortable, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “No problem,” I whisper. “My throat is still sore, is that normal?”

  “It’s from the tube in your throat. It will feel better tomorrow. Here, let me pour you some ice water.” She picks up the pink and white Styrofoam pitcher and fills up my cup.

  Tate stands up to give me more room to get comfortable. “Can she have anything other than water?”

  “Sure, down the hall is a refreshment room with a variety of things to drink. You can grab a snack, but lunch will be here any time.”

  ***

  Chapter Seventeen. Saving Grace

  For the first time since I’ve been awake, my doctor talked about releasing me. All of my bones are almost healed, or so they say. Yesterday was torture Holland day. The cast on my wrist was removed and replaced with a lovely shade of neon green hard cast. The infection in my leg is under control, but it still looks like hamburger meat. Aunt Laney told me she’s hired a physical therapist who’ll make house calls for me every day. Great, instead of being tortured in an office, I get to have it in the leisure of where I sleep. The doctor also insisted I stay with Aunt Laney or I go into a therapy clinic.

  Last night, Tate came in with to-go boxes from my favorite steak-house. We ate steak and drank sparkling wine as we watched a thriller movie from the hospital library. Since the weekend is here, Tate is spending the night with me at the hospital. The nurses are cool with him being around, the therapist they’ve assigned to me said I need the support from loved ones. The shrink doesn’t seem to understand that I’m not bitter towards my dad. For years I’ve played many roles, the biggest was as his care giver. Losing him feels more like losing a child than a dad. He hadn’t attended any of the regular parental obligatory events at school, like open house, or parent teacher conferences. I wrote all of my own notes for school and had him sign them. When I’m alone with my thoughts, I secretly feel relieved not to have to check on him or make sure he takes his pills. If anyone knew how I felt, they’d surely lock me away. I loved him, I still love him, but I don’t miss the person he had become. Maybe it is me that’s mentally ill.

  A familiar knock on the door, three knocks followed by a tap, startled me from my thoughts.

  “Come in!” I yell over the sounds from the TV which I keep on twenty-four seven. It keeps the nurses from checking on me because they think I’m enthralled in something mindless on TV.

  Tate comes in with a grocery bag of goodies. He’s wearing the yellow button down shirt I convinced him to buy when we went to see One Republic in concert.

  “I stopped at the store on my way back,” he hands me the bag and I greedily rummage through the junk food. “You would not believe what my roommate did last night. I guess they arrested him for drinking underage and drunk dialing his CO to tell him off. He’s such an idiot,” Tate says.

  “Don’t hate me, what does CO mean? I know you told me before, I just don’t remember.”

  “Commanding Officer, they’re like our general manager. He is pretty cool, but Jared and he clash. We have a cush job, so I don’t understand his beef with the CO. We get to work inside, in the air conditioning and wear dress blues. Girls really dig the blues,” he says teasing me.

  “Do they now?” I flirt back. “I don’t know about the other girls, but I think your blues are sexy as hell. One day, I’ll get the chance to help you take them off,” I say boldly.

  He looks at me like I just told him he won the lottery. Well, I’m guessing he would look like that if he won. “I’m in! I might have a set in my car, I’m happy to fulfill your fantasy.”

  “Woe there sparky, my fantasy does not include a hospital room and hamburger leg. On to bigger and better things, is there chocolate in that bag?”

  “Bigger and better? Hmmmm, I’ll have to prove you wrong on that comment.”

  I feel heat spread through my body as my face flushes from his words. Maybe I could tweak my fantasy to include the hospital bed. Instead of replying, because my thoughts are anything but pure, I reach for the bag of goodies. Brown-sugar Pop Tarts, Nutty Bars, Nutella and graham crackers, Dove chocolates, and bags of chips. He’s a keeper. “Prove me wrong? Promises, promises.” The pain medicine has lowered my inhibitions and given me courage to say things I wouldn’t have two months ago. “What will happen to your roommate? It seems a little excessive to arrest him for a prank call.”

  “You’re right, they blow things up when it could have been taken care of with a Letter of Reprimand, they call that a LOR.”

  “Sounds pretty self-explanatory, will he be kicked out of the military?” I unwrap a Dove chocolate and read the message inside the wrapper. Be kind and hug a stranger, yeah that’s not happening.

  “He won’t be kicked out, but he could lose a stripe for Insubordinate Conduct to a Non-Commissioned Officer. He’s an idiot. I’ve tried to be friends with him, but he’s so rude to people, I can’t stand to be around him. One night, after too much tequila, he told me how his family is poor and he sends them the majority of his paycheck.
You’re thinking to yourself that doesn’t sound like an asshole, but you don’t hear him on the phone with his mom. He cusses at her and tells her what a lousy mother she is and wishes he’d never been born.”

  “What a dick.”

  “I’m hoping they’ll move him out of our dorm and put him in the crappy dorms to punish him. Enough about him. I was thinking, you could stay at the dorms with me on the weekends. My house will be finished in middle of August. Since I’m paying cash, they’ve put me at the top of the list. I’d like you to stay at least the first weekend you’re out. Your Aunt has been nice to me here, but I doubt she’ll let me sleep at her house on weekends. It’s totally up to you, but my vote is, yes.” He walks over to the sink and washes his hands. Since I’ve been awake, he washes his hands constantly. The other night he confessed that he had to buy lotion in the women’s section to find something that would rehydrate his hands. He’s so worried that my infection will flare up and I’ll lose my leg, so he tries to be germ-free for me. For the first time, someone other than Andy cares about what happens to me.

  I pat the spot on the bed next to me so I can snuggle up to him. He slips off his shoes and lays down next to me. Cuddling is our favorite past-time now that I don’t have a bunch of wires and tubes everywhere on my body. In these private moments, my heart skips beats in my chest, like a lone drummer beating out a love song. Before thinking, I blurt out, “Do you think he went to hell?” This question has been burning in my brain. Suicide is one of those things that I’ve always heard would give you a one way ticket to hell. I can’t imagine my poor lost soul father spending eternity in hell.

  Tate pulls me until my head is on his chest and his heart is beating in my ear. “Your dad was mentally ill and I think God would forgive him. He was sick and if he were okay in his head, he wouldn’t have tried to harm you or him. I believe that without question.”

  For the first time, tears sting my eyes. One rolls off and drips on his shirt. Tate’s hand rubs up and down my back as I absorbed his words. He’s right, God would know he was sick and would let him in heaven. I have to believe that, because if I don’t, I’ll break. Years and years of caring for him have been ripped away from me. “I haven’t thought of it that way, I think you’re right. It hurts to know I’ll never see him again. This is going to sound like I’m a horrible person, but a part of me is relieved that I’m free to live my life.”

  He turns toward me and smiles sweetly. “You’re not a horrible person, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. Your dad was selfish to have put so much pressure on his young daughter. I’m surprised you’re as kind as you are, do you know how all of that pressure could have screwed you up royally?”

  I sniffle as my tears keep escaping my eyes and landing on Tate’s chest. “Maybe I’m screwed up royally and I’ve got everyone fooled.”

  “Holland, what you’re feeling is perfectly okay. You’re handling things so much better than I would. Watching you hooked up to a machine that was breathing for you, upset me to my core. You’ve faced so much and yet you’re worried about being screwed up. It’s the people who go around proclaiming how okay they are who are screwed up on the inside.” He takes his finger under my chin, lifting it up as he bends over to kiss me. It’s the type of kiss that’s sweet and gentle, the kind that leaves you breathless. His hand cups the back of my head as he pulls me closer to him.

  “You don’t think someone will rat you out if I stay in your dorm room? What would happen to you if you get caught?” The last thing either of us needs is trouble with the military.

  “Everyone in my dorms is cool, except my roommate, but I don’t think he’d report me. He’s always trying to get me to break the rules and be a rebellion. At this point, I think those of us who don’t party are the real rebellions. We’ll entertain them with our singing,” he teases.

  “Oh lord! I’m not sure my lungs are up to singing yet. I tried to sing last night, it wasn’t pretty.”

  “Even more of a reason for us to practice. The doctor said for you to do lung exercises and singing is one way to help you get back your strength. Plus, it buys me more time with you.”

  I look up at his face and I can’t imagine a life without him in it. He’s my saving grace.

  ***

  The elevator doors open to the third floor hallway. The dorms are quieter than I expected for a building full of guys, most under twenty-five. My leg is in a sadistic looking leg splint with its metal circles and rods that are able to be adjusted with the exposed wing-nuts. Tate is carrying my crutches in one hand and his other arm is around me to hold me up. The high-gloss tile floors reflect the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.

  “Wow, the floors are almost blinding they’re so shiny,” I say as I hobble along to his room.

  “That’s one of our duties here in the dorms, we have to wax the floors. We’re the next door on our left,” he whispers.

  “Oh, so everyone has to clean the dorms too?”

  “We not only clean, but we have inspections.” Each door is Air Force Blue with a nameplate with the last names of the people in each room.

  “Is this you? What does SrA, mean?” I hold on to the door jamb as I try to walk less like a zombie into his room. Nothing screams sexy girlfriend like an orthopedic boot, cutoff sweat pants to fit over the boot, and a big baggy t-shirt. I’ve tried to ask Aunt Laney for a bra that clips in the front but I can’t imagine her inside Lulu-Belle’s Lingerie buying anything. I settled on asking for a couple of sports bras to just pull over my head.

  “That’s my rank, I’m a Senior Airman. Here, give me your bag, I’ll set it down for you.”

  Like a hotel, there’s only one window once you pass two beds, one on each side of the room. Tate pulls open the dark-out curtains and light pours in from the afternoon sun. A bulletin board with concert ticket stubs and pics of guitars is next to the first bed in the room and on the opposite side, the bulletin board is filled pics of celebrity girls barely dressed.

  “Wow, I didn’t realize you were a Kardashian kind of guy,” I tease as I sit in the chair he pulls out for me.

  “That is not my side of the room, however, I don’t complain,” he teases back. “This is my fancy room with grey walls and blue curtains. This table serves as our desk, card table, domino table, and my favorite, dining table. I was thinking about ordering some pizza, do you want the usual pepperoni with extra cheese?”

  “They deliver pizza on base? I’ve never thought about it, but it makes perfect sense. Do the drivers have to do anything special?”

  “I’ll call the gate and tell them what place will be delivering to me. I have to meet the driver in the parking lot, other than that, pretty painless. Are you feeling okay, you look a little pale?”

  ***

  My cell phone ringing wakes me up. I look at the clock and see it is eight-thirty in the morning. I don’t recognize the number so I hit ignore and snuggled back into Tate.

  After I wake up, I check my phone to listen to the message.

  HELLO HOLLAND – THIS IS YOUR MOM. GIVE ME A CALL. I LOVE YOU.

  I slam the phone into the pillow and cuss as loud as humanly possible in a whisper.

  ***

  “Your mom called your cell phone? How did she get the number?” Tate asks after I tell him about this call this morning.

  I shake my head back and forth and shrug. Now she wants to contact me? One day after I buried my dad in a private ceremony! There’s no way I’m talking to her. “I don’t know. I’m guessing she was either given it by my dad in one of their secret conversations, or Aunt Laney. Either way, I’m not calling her right now. How can she think she can just show up and be a mom again?” I collapse against Tate and cry. He doesn’t say anything, he just holds me and strokes my hair.

  An eternity passes before he speaks again. I’m finished crying, just a random hiccup escapes my throat every now and then.

  “Holland, look at me,” Tate wipes my hair out of my face. “I know we’re taking things
slow and a lot has happened to you. I still want to take it slow, but I want you to live with me. Before you give me fifteen reasons why you can’t, let me give you some reasons why you can. I have plenty of room, you can have your own bedroom decorated however you want. If you want clothes all over the floor, that’s fine. I know this is fast, and if you don’t want to consider it as living together, you can just say you’re staying over.”

  What did he just say? Live with him? My heart leaps to my throat and tears sting my eyes. “Tate, I don’t know.” He sits down on the bed next to me. Reaching for my face, he takes his thumb and wipes away a stray tear. I want to say yes, but what will happen if I do? My lungs are trying desperately to figure out how to breathe again as I actually mull the idea around in my head.

  “Holland, there are so many things about you that I never thought I’d find in a girl in Oklahoma. Who would have thought I’d find someone who understands me and makes me feel at home? When I’m away from you, I can’t think about anything else but you. I want to give you the world, and protect you from the Boogie Man. The way you shiver when I give you little kisses on your nose, or the way you stretch when you first wake up. Those are the things I want to have in my life every single day. Just think, we could work on music and then crash to the floor and grope each other until one day we take it to that point. I’m already at the point, the one of no return. Holl, I almost lost you, and that thought is always at the forefront of my mind. You’re MY Andy, and it would devastate me to lose you. Holland…I’m hanging off the edge with every beat of my heart. I love you. I love you and every aspect of who you are. Please say you’ll move in with me.”