by D. Love
I don’t know why I survived the car accident, but maybe it’s so I can learn this lesson: Not to give up on life just yet.
Mom lifts Em off me, and the doctor replaces them at my side. He shines a bright light into my eyes, causing me to flinch. Hot pain shoots through my side.
The doctor steps away. He appears satisfied.
"You should make a complete recovery, Ms. Silcox," he says with a smile.
I’m relieved at the news. My little girl is okay, and my mom and sister are here with me. With the overwhelming experience of waking in a hospital bed, I begin to think Jett was part of my dream.
I glance around the small room, not expecting to see him leaning against the wall.
What is he doing here? I ask myself, puzzled. And why is he just staring at me?
We gaze at each other. His huge smile perplexes me more. He gives me a small wave. I lift my hand to wave back. The way he looks at me gives me butterflies in my stomach. I noticed him before, but somehow, today is different. I’ve never seen a man so handsome.
He’s at least six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a lean frame, no doubt from all the exercise the Army made him do. He’s in a t-shirt again today. I can’t remember ever paying attention to anyone’s biceps before, but his are nice. Strong. The kind of arms I can imagine wrapped around me. As attractive as he is, it’s his deep blue eyes that make me feel like I’m a teen fawning over her first crush.
"So, Rye, as long as you recover as expected, I’m sure you’ll be able to go home in a few weeks," the doctor continues, pulling me out of my daze.
"Thank you," was my only reply.
I turn my eyes back to Jett, admiring everything from his body to how shiny and black his hair is. He wears it in a high-and-tight, the military-style cut, with the sides shaved and the top spiked. Just like on Army Wives. I’m daydreaming again about what it would be like, to have a life with him on base, to wake up every morning in his strong arms and for his gorgeous blue eyes to be the last sight I see before I fall asleep.
I don’t realize how blatantly I’m staring, until I hear the laughs. My sister, Katy, leans forward to whisper in my ear, "Yummy, huh?" and snickers.
I’m too tired to be embarrassed. The adrenaline from waking in an unfamiliar place fades, and I grow sleepy.
The next few days pass in a blur. I’m exhausted but determined to recover quickly. I learn the next morning that Jett is a physical therapist, and he’s there to help me get better.
I should be happy about that, but the first time he touches me, I almost forget to breathe.
"You okay?" he asks, looking up from where’s kneeling beside me. He’s moving one of my legs, or trying to. I’m so distracted by his nearness and the faint scent of his cologne, that I can’t concentrate on anything else.
I nod. His blue eyes linger, and I know my face turns beet red. He ducks his head, but not before I see his smile.
"So, I work on this floor," he says. He clears his throat, the only sign that maybe he’s nervous, too. His hands are sure, gentle and large as he kneads the muscle of my calf. "Okay, lift."
This time, I hear him and make an effort to obey.
"Good."
I lower my leg and release a breath. It was harder than I expected.
"How does that feel?" he asks.
"Okay," I reply.
"The fatigue you feel will wear off. We want to make sure your muscles don’t atrophy," he explains. "I’m right down the hall. You know. If you ever want to … uh, talk or something."
"Thanks."
He shifts to the other leg. "You want to know a secret?" His eyes twinkle as he smiles.
"Sure." I find myself smiling back, despite the trauma my body’s been through.
"I write poetry. It’s awful."
I laugh.
"I call it Jett-poetry, and it never makes sense."
"I bet it’s good," I counter. "You’re such a sweet, nice man. I can’t imagine anything you do isn’t …" I trail off, hearing my own words.
Silence falls again. It should be awkward, but it’s not. His grin fills me with warmth. Something about the way he talks to me, touches me, tells me he’s not just there for physical therapy.
I like the thought, even though I don’t know if I should.
The session ends too soon.
He stops in every morning after that to make sure I’m feeling great and to give me physical therapy. At first, his touch confuses me. As the days progress, I begin to look forward to the time we spend together. I don’t know where he came from or why he appeared in my life now, but I’m grateful. He starts dropping by in the evenings, too, and stays to talk to me until I fall asleep.
I’ve spent a lot of time in hospitals, but I can honestly say this was the only stay I almost enjoyed. I learn a lot about him, from what he did during his time in the military to why he joined. He entered the National Guard when he was sixteen, after the death of his mother the year before. He hated school and always dreamed of becoming a baseball player. When that didn’t pan out for him, he joined the Army.
His favorite color is green, and he loves fried chicken. He’s been close to his father and grandfather since his mother’s death, and the four years he spent in Iraq were some of the longest of his life. He talks about his experiences there only briefly, as if he doesn’t want to relive the memories of the friends he lost and the long hours working.
It’s the only time his smile fades. During every other discussion, his eyes glow, and his lips are always upturned. His attitude is contagious. It leaves me genuinely happy for the first time in a long time. I had Em when I was fifteen, and I can’t remember the last time I went on a date. I definitely never connected with anyone the way I do Jett. Talking to him is like talking to an old friend.
The entire world seems better when he smiles. I keep thinking to myself, if a man could be described as beautiful, then Jett is beautiful.
So, why is he sitting here with me?
The first few days, I can’t stop asking myself this question. When I’m rested enough, I stop trying to read into everything and simply enjoy being with him. After all, wasn’t that the lesson of the accident I survived? To teach me how to value my days better?
By the end of the first week, I’ve given myself permission to enjoy our interactions. I stop questioning why he’s with me and simply enjoy talking to him.
I recover even faster than the doctors expect, for which I hold Jett entirely responsible.
Two weeks later, I am released from the hospital. I’m thrilled to know I’ll make it to the weekly Sunday dinner.
Sunday dinners at my mom’s are always fun and filled with so much love. Mom ensures that every Sunday the whole family will be at the house at two in the afternoon, no later. Each of us is supposed to bring something small, while Mom prepares the main meal.
"Rye, don’t forget the bread," she reminds me for the umpteenth time. "Oh, wait, and the butter."
"Yes, Mom," I say from the living room. I always bring the bread and butter. Rather, I always bring the bread and sometimes forget the butter.
Katy starts laughing at me, repeating one of Mom’s sayings in a mocking voice. "Always remember the bread and butter. When two things belong together, you cannot separate them."
We burst out laughing at the same time. Mom is known for her quirky sayings.
Walking same paths …
Flying birds …
Love with compassion …
And so on. She’s got a saying for everything. They drove Katy and me crazy as children, but now, they’re endearing sources of comfort.
We all sit down for dinner. Mark, my brother-in-law, starts us off. As is tradition, we always say grace at Mom’s. Afterwards, we all take turns and name one thing we are grateful for, and then one thing that saddens us. My little niece Angie has been sad about the Chuck E. Cheese closing.
It’s been closed for months, but she mentions it every week. We all get a good laugh about it again this
week. It’s my turn. My phone beeps loudly enough that everyone looks at me at the same time. I unlock the screen of the smart phone to read the text message. It's from Jett. Just seeing his name on the screen sends shivers through me.
What is one thing you would love to see today? The text asks.
Of course, my first thought is that I would love to see him. I’m not about to tell him that, though. He did so much for me at the hospital, and I feel indebted to him. I can’t possibly let myself hope that he’s interested enough in me to see me again so soon.
My phone beeps again. Unable to help my curiosity, I look down.
Open the front door!
I scramble up and go to the door. I’m excited enough that it takes me two attempts to open it. When I do, my whole world feels like it’s frozen. My breath sticks in my throat.
Standing in front of me is Jett! He’s wearing the smile that makes me want to swoon, as if he’s saying, yea, you want me, and I know it. I can't even bring words to my lips. I’m thrilled – and strangely, terrified.
Finally, I hear mom yell, "Is everything alright, Rye? Your dinner is getting cold."
She jars me out of my Jett-induced trance.
"Are you going to invite me in?" Jett asks in his soft baritone.
"Ummm, well, we are –"
"Rye, is everything alright?" Mark asks, appearing around the corner. Once he sees Jett at the door, he walks up and claps Jett on the shoulder. "Jett-man! It’s good to see you. What are you doing here?"
"I’m here to see Rye and Emily," Jett replies. "But Rye is barricading the door and won’t let me pass."
I feel like a fool. Mark starts laughing, grabs Jett’s arm and pulls him inside.
"Excuse her rudeness," Mark says. "She just had trauma to the head."
Both of them bust into bold laughter. I’m not exactly pleased by the exchange. Maybe, if it were about someone else, it’d be funny. In any case, I’m happy to see Jett but uncertain about introducing him to my family.
As soon as he appears in the dining room, Mom hops up and makes a place setting for Jett.
"Come on, Jett. Have a seat right here by Rye," she says eagerly.
She shares a look with Em and Katy, both of whom wear the biggest grins I’ve ever seen. I’m beyond embarrassed that my whole family suspects I like this guy. I huff to my seat and start eating.
Everyone laughs, eats and talks around me. I’m trying to figure out what I feel – if I should be allowed to feel something for him when my days are numbered – when Em’s happy voice rises above the rest of the conversations.
"Uncle Mark," she calls down the table to my brother-in-law. "If Jett would take me to my dance, then you wouldn’t have too."
I freeze, speechless. The table falls silent. They’re all looking at each other then at me, while sweet little Em is oblivious. She jumps up and runs to her room, returning with an invitation that she takes to Jett. He opens the invitation, reads it, and then looks at Em.
"Emily," he says with some hesitation, "I would be honored to take you to your dance."
Em jumps up and down with a squeal. She does a lap around the table and stops to give Jett a hug. I just watch, as Jett hugs her back. He beams that beautiful smile at me. Thank goodness, no one says anything to me about it, because I’m somewhere between crying and screaming. I’m not sure which one would come out, if anyone talked to me just then.
Conversations return to normal. We all finish eating, and I join Mom in the kitchen to clean up. Mom is at the dishwasher, loading it, after Jett scrapes the dishes clean. Em breezes into the kitchen, too, and asks me,
"Mama, are you excited?"
"Excited for what, Em?" I ask.
"About Jett taking me to the father-daughter dance tomorrow night?"
"Excited is not even close to the way I feel Em," I tell her honestly. None of the conflict I feel comes out with my cheerful words.
"Yay! I was worried you would be upset," she says. Happy, she runs off, leaving the three of us in the kitchen.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I'm not excited at all. Jett – a virtual stranger – who came out of nowhere, is taking my daughter to a father-daughter dance? But everyone seems to love him, and I remind myself that Katy and Mark will be at the dance, too.
Am I the only person who doesn’t know what to think about this? I return to the dining room to gather the last of the stray dishes, needing some peace and quiet to think. My family has accepted Jett as one of them in the course of a few hours. I like him, more than I think I should, but at the end of the day … well, I’m dying. Is it right for him to be here? Is it fair to him and my family?
"Honey, what are you thinking so hard about?" my Mom asks as she comes around the table.
"How could you be fine with some guy having dinner with us, like he has known us forever?" I whisper. "And then be fine with him taking Emily to her dance?"
"I have known his father for years, Rye, they are great people," she replies. "He fits in perfect with our family."
"Then why don’t you date his father, Mom!" I retort.
She glances at me with a laugh. "Rye, it’s not meant for me to date his father. But it is meant –"
"Don’t say it, Mom, just don’t!" I see the look on her face and how she regarded Jett at dinner. I know what she’s thinking.
Grinning, she walks away.
Katy stares at me, like I have two heads.
"What?" I demand.
"Rye, this – he – is something you always dreamed about, down to the Army part," she said sweetly. "What’s bothering you?"
I’m torn between reminding her that I’m not long for this world and shrugging it off, so as not to ruin the cheerful atmosphere. I prepare a reply that I hope conveys my concern without plunging her into the despair that she and my mother spent months in when they learned of my diagnosis.
My knees feel weak suddenly. My stomach is roiling, and my ears buzz. Tunnel vision sweeps into my mind.
I reach for the table, miss, and grope at nothing but air as I fall.
Chapter Six: Jett
From the kitchen, I hear Katy yell for her mom. She sounds frantic.
I dart into the dining room and see Rye lying on the floor. Kneeling beside her, I check her pulse then open her eyelids to check the dilation of her eyes. My heart is flying and though I don’t display it, I feel as panicked as Katy.
"Mark, can you carry Rye to her room?" Dee calls to her son-in-law.
"No, I will!" I snap when Mark reaches for her.
I reach down, gently placing one arm under Rye’s knees and the other under her head to brace her neck. Her face is pale, but her heartbeat is strong, and she’s breathing deeply.
"Can you tell me where her bedroom is?" I ask Dee.
Dee walks me to her room. I lower Rye carefully to the bed then straighten, glancing around. Bottles of medicine line her nightstand, and there’s an IV pole off to the side. My thoughts return to the brain tumor for the first time since I learned of it. I didn’t want to think about it, not when I was enjoying my time with her. I could help her regain her mobility after the accident. I can do nothing about a brain tumor. I guess I hoped I wouldn’t have to face that reality just yet.
"How long?" I whisper to Dee, no longer able to ignore the signs before me.
"We don’t know," Dee replies, her eyes sad and glassy. "We have to wait for the next MRI to see if it’s grown. They found the tumor over a year ago, but due to the location, they are unable to remove it."
The words fall like blows. I can’t believe I’m hearing them. I can’t believe the beautiful, sweet, kind woman I spent two weeks talking to in the hospital – will soon be gone for good.
"Jett." The note in Dee’s voice draws my attention. "I think it’s best you walk away now. She and Em don’t need anymore heartbreak."
Despite the warring emotions, I know this isn’t how I want it to end.
"I spent every day while I was in Iraq thinking it was my la
st. I lived and loved everything from one day to the next," I say, taking a deep breath. "With the utmost respect Ms. Silcox, I will do the same with Rye. I refuse to walk away."
She looks me in the eye and smiles. "I knew you would feel that way, but I needed to give you the option. I can’t see her in more pain than she is now, if you decided you can’t do this."
"No more options or advice when it comes to Rye," I tell her firmly. "I know what I want, and I know what I need to do. One thing I’ve learned: life is not promised to anyone." Every instinct of my body supports this decision.
I turn and walk to the kitchen to grab Rye a bottle of water. When I return, I see Dee, sitting beside Rye’s bed and reading to her. Em is sprawled out at the end of the bed doing homework, while Katy is wiping Rye’s forehead with a damp cloth.
My first thought is how calm and routine the scene appears. I’m touched by their affection and dedication.
I go to the other side of the bed and run my finger down the bridge of Rye’s nose, whispering, "I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well."
I stand up to go, when I notice a pen and paper on Rye’s desk. Pausing, I write a quick note then leave the room.
Chapter Seven: Rye
I wake up to Mom shaking me, softly saying, "Rye, it's time to wake up. We need to go to treatment, love. Come on."
My head is pulsing. It’s heavy, hard to lift off my pillow. It feels like it’s going to split open. I swing my legs over the side of my bed and try to stand on my own. Mom is at my side as soon as she hears me whimper.
"Rye, what is it?"
"It hurts when I move my hips, but I need to go to the bathroom," I say.
Mom takes my arm. We walk together to the bathroom. She helps get situated and then leaves the room. After I am done in the bathroom, I make my way back to my bedroom. I’m not sure why my hip area hurts. Maybe a lingering strain or similar from the car accident.
"I am sure they will want to check your vitamin D, Rye," says Mom. "It’s probably low again. Once we get that back up, the pain will go away."
"Okay, Mom," was all I manage to say. I’m hoping it’s that simple, that there’s not more wrong.
