When You Make It Home
Page 4
The lights blazed behind every one of Melinda’s windows.
“Is your mom home?”
“No, if I’m not here when she leaves for work, she turns on every light. It’s annoying, but she ignores me when I tell her I can find my way in the dark.”
“Oh, your mom is great. She’s thrilled to have you home.” Instead of dead. I shuddered.
Theo struggled to get out of the car. I leaped from my seat and rushed to his side. With one hand on the car door, I reached out to him. “Let me help—”
“No.” He twisted away from me and then stumbled, bracing himself against the car. He bowed his head. “I got it.” A muscle stood out on his neck.
I stalled by digging through my purse for a stick of gum I knew I didn’t have until he gathered himself and led the way. All Theo’s injuries ran down the left side of his body, so he favored that side. He moved unsteadily on his crutches because the bandages on his hand prevented him from fully gripping his crutch. He wore knee-length khaki shorts, revealing one leg that was tanned, well defined, and perfect in every way. But I couldn’t see any sign of what was left of his other leg.
He clambered up the one step, unlocked the door, and trudged into the house. Theo dropped his backpack inside the door, sat in a ladder-back chair next to the entrance and removed his Nike and sock. He ditched one crutch by the chair and set off with the other, making up for the reduced support by leaning on furniture or bracing against the wall as he bounded around, more agile in his home than out in the world.
With the blinding lights on, the silence was oddly crushing. I studied the vast expanse of dark hardwoods, varnished crown molding, and oriental rugs tossed in every direction of travel. A faded floral sofa sat in the middle of the living room, facing a large flat-screen TV that was too modern for its surroundings. A newspaper lay open on the coffee table next to a stack of magazines and a nearly full cup of tea stained with a half-moon of lipstick. The walls were lined with photos of the brothers—Melinda’s handiwork, I guessed—arranged in a timeline. Soccer, baseball, and football pictures alternated with class and holiday photo collages. I meandered along, past Jake’s and then Theo’s college graduation photos, to a break in the pattern—a missing frame, highlighted by the bright square of wallpaper left exposed, next to a wedding portrait of Jake and Ellie.
“Come on back.”
I stopped to touch the lone exposed nail before following the sound of Theo’s voice to the kitchen.
Theo limped to the fridge and removed covered dishes, sliding them onto the counter.
“What is all this stuff?” I peeked under a turquoise Fiesta Ware lid, breathing in the aroma of fresh herbs, onions sautéed in butter, cream, and roasted poultry.
“A casserole smorgasbord from the old ladies at Mom’s church. They’ve taken on the project of fattening me up. To them, eating equals healing, and Mom’s keeping tabs on me. So the more you eat, the more you help me.” Theo winked at me, but he seemed uneasy with the effort they’d undertaken on his behalf. “So this week’s special is Mac and Cheese Hotdog Surprise, Tuna Egg Noodle Dream, and what you have there, my favorite: Chicken Pot Pie. I’m willing to share even that.” He retrieved plates from the cabinet. “What’ll you have?”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” I tried to take a plate from his hand, but he held them out of my reach. “Can’t I help?”
“Nope. You’re my guest. Go sit down.” He gestured to the round, copper-topped table nestled in a cozy nook off to the side of the kitchen. The inky night turned the curtainless, white-trimmed bay windows into a mirror.
I told myself not to ask the question, but then I couldn’t help blurting out: “What’s the missing photo?”
Theo’s slashing, dark brows shot up in question.
“Out there.” I pointed slowly to the front room. “There’s an empty spot.”
His eyes squeezed shut, and he bowed his head.
Why couldn’t I hammer my mouth shut? “And there’s an empty spot, inside my head, where my brain should be.” I scrambled for something better to say, wishing I had a do-over button, because right then I wanted to stab myself with a fork, if that’s what it took to distract him from the pain I’d caused him. “I—I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. My tongue moves too fast for me to keep up sometimes. It’s like I can’t stop myself. I just spit out every little thing that runs through my head, even though there’s like these little warning bells. My mouth has a life of its own—”
“Stop.” Theo’s voice cut in smooth and sharp. “It’s all cool.” He ran the back of his wrist across his forehead. “Mom frames everything. Something must’ve got knocked down. There’s no need to panic.”
I pulled off my hoodie, draped it on the back of a kitchen chair, and sat. “I’m sorry,” I said again.
Theo scooped the colorful mush onto plates, glancing at me with unreadable eyes. With deliberate movements, he lifted a plate into the microwave over the oven.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
“What am I thinking?” He looked beyond me to the dark window, which showed his own refection, and then he smiled. “I’m thinking that for once you’re not in black. And I’m thinking I like how you look when you’re not wearing black. And you know what else I’m thinking?” He looked at me point-blank. “I’m thinking you look pregnant.” He filled stoneware coffee mugs with orange juice. “I don’t care about the reasoning. Your secret is stupid.”
His words hit me like a spray of cold water. “What?”
My throat clenched, and tears burned at my eyes. I refused to cry. I especially wouldn’t let Theo see me fall apart. Even as I vowed this, I buried my face in my hands, and sobs ripped through me. Crushing tears with the palms of my hands as fast as they broke free, I gasped to breathe past the ache in my chest.
“Oh no, don’t do that. I didn’t mean anything. I’m sorry, Meg.” He fumbled around the table to the chair next to me, dragged it out, and dropped into it, letting his crutch fall to the floor with a bang. Theo pulled me to him, chair and all. He wrapped his arms completely around me, engulfing me in his warmth. “It’s okay… It’s okay,” he murmured into my hair. I rested my head against his chest and inhaled deeply, detecting the lingering scent of fabric softener mingled with the slightest hint of his salty sweat. The combination soothed me.
“I mean to hell with anyone who can’t deal with your situation.” I listened to his heart beating and took comfort in the presence of him breathing next to me.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and I pulled back from him. “For keeping my secret.” I moved to get the juice and plates of food he had prepared and brought them to the table.
We ate in silence, and the food seemed to settle the tension between us. “That was incredible,” I said as I finished.
“Yeah, those church ladies are amazing with a little butter and heavy cream.” He placed his fork in the center of his empty plate and dropped his folded paper napkin on top. He sighed, and I noted the shadows under his eyes.
“I should probably go.”
“You should probably stay,” Theo replied. “I promised you TV, and you can’t go until you watch some.”
“Okay, but Theo… Don’t worry about me. I’m battling extreme pregnancy hormones.”
I gathered our dishes and put them in the sink. An open door in the corner of the kitchen led to a small laundry room with a trashcan just inside. I stepped in to dispose of my napkin and inhaled the smell of bleach and soap. I caught sight of a large frame propped against the back wall. Sure enough, the glass was broken. A perfect shattered starburst distorted the photograph of Theo in his Class A uniform. Under a black beret, his face was a study in self-confidence. From behind me came a thumping shuffle.
“No worries, girl. Leave that. Let’s go chill in front of the tube.”
Theo dimmed the lights, and we sat on opposite ends of the sofa. He flipped channels until we agreed to watch Poltergeist. The rich meal so late at night sent me on a desperate search through my purse for antacids.
“What do you need?”
“I have heartburn. I don’t suppose you have any Tums?”
“Wait here.” He struggled to get up.
“I can get them. Tell me where.” I perched on the edge of my seat.
“I got it. You stay,” he ordered, using his one-crutch method to maneuver his way across the room and out the door.
He returned with a small pillow and a lap quilt tucked under his arm. He tossed them on the sofa, held his fist up to me, and dropped two pink tablets into my hand, his long fingers brushing against my palm.
“Excellent. Thanks.” I placed both tablets on my tongue, the chalky, faux-cherry flavor filling my mouth.
“Get comfortable.” He collapsed onto his side of the sofa. “You can stretch out.” There was something about being on a man’s turf that made him relax.
Theo focused on the TV while I snuggled under the blanket and curled up, keeping my bare feet away from him. Hidden under the blanket, I put a hand on my swollen belly. Tomorrow would be my first visit to the doctor, and that made the baby growing inside of me more real, which was the exact reason I’d put off the appointment for so long—way past the acceptable timeline. Once I saw the doctor I’d have to face my reality. At least that was the plan. But I wasn’t ready to let go of my secret.
“You don’t have to be all balled up. Don’t you know how to relax?” He gave me a sideways glance. His hand slipped under the blanket, fingers curling around my ankle.
I yelped, unable to stop myself, but Theo tugged my foot onto his lap. His strong hand warmed my skin. His thumb circled my anklebone, sending pulses of pleasure through me. I sighed and peeked at him. Even as he touched me so tenderly, his focus remained locked on the TV screen, on the demon tree pulling the boy from his bedroom. I allowed my eyes to shut, only half listening to the screams on TV. I lay as still as possible, afraid if I moved he would let go and put up a wall between us. At some point, I must have drifted off because the next thing I knew, Theo was howling and clutching my leg, his fingers digging into my calf.
“Theo, stop!” I scooted back, away from him, and wedged my fingers under his to pull free. He winced and released his hold on my leg. His body curled inward as he doubled over and roared in agony.
My heart pounding in my ears, I hunched down in front of him. “Tell me what to do,” I begged, cradling his face in my hands.
“Pills—I need my pain pills,” he said through clenched teeth, his eyes wild. “In the bathroom.” He flung backwards on the sofa with an agonized roar, his face ashen, glistening with sweat.
I leaped to my feet and darted down the hall. Then I gripped the frame of the bathroom door to check back and make sure he was okay, but the way he’d folded in on himself was anything but okay. The medicine cabinet in the bathroom held no fewer than fifteen prescription bottles of various sizes, all meticulously printed with the name “Theodore Taylor.” I scanned the labels of toxic-sounding medications. The beautiful words “as needed for pain” jumped out at me, written on two separate bottles. I snagged the glass on the edge of the sink and filled it to the rim. Water sloshed onto the floor as I raced back to Theo.
“The big bottle.” He dragged a hand down his face, his breath fluttering out between low moans.
I popped off the top and poured pills into the lid. He took two and swallowed them dry then chugged the entire glass of water.
I refilled the glass and returned with a cool, wet washcloth. I crouched in front of him. “Here.” I pushed the washcloth into Theo’s hand.
“Thanks,” he mumbled and buried his face, panting ragged gasps into the cloth. Many minutes passed before his breath slowed. His grip on the armrest loosened, and he looked at me again.
“I’m sorry.” His brows pulled together. “Are you okay?”
“Me?” I asked. “I’m fine. Theo, what happened? Do… do you need help? Should I take you to a doctor or the hospital or something?”
“No, it’s not like that.” He pressed a fist to his mouth, biting down on his knuckle. Finally, he looked at me. “I’m sorry, Meg. I hurt your leg. The pain hit when I was asleep. I didn’t realize I was holding onto you.” He scowled at the floor. “I’m really sorry.”
“I’m fine,” I said again, but my voice wavered. Theo managed so well when I was around him. I’d had no idea up until then the amount of pain he was dealing with.
“You should go home and get some sleep.” He heaved himself off the couch.
“Are you kidding? I’m not going anywhere.” My mind raced. Not only was I scared to leave him; I was scared to let him walk across the room.
He moved past without a glance my way. “You don’t have to stay. I’m going to bed.”
“I’ll come with you.” I stood up. “It’s not as though we haven’t slept in the same bed before.”
While he wasn’t inviting, he didn’t stop me from following him into his bedroom. Once inside, he watched in silence as I headed to the right side of the bed and slipped under the worn patchwork quilt. I presumed he’d prefer the left side, so the unblemished side of his body would face me when he lay down.
Once I settled under the covers, the bedroom door shut with a soft click and snap of a lock hitting home. The room was blanketed with quiet. Without a word, Theo ambled through the shadows, and then an unexpected burst of light hit my face.
“Sorry.” He closed himself in the bathroom, shutting me back in the darkness. The only light was the thin bar blazing from under the door—just like in Poltergeist. When the camera panned down the hall to that light, it was a warning that something was very, very wrong.
My eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, and I looked around for traces of Theo. It had the feeling of a generic guest room, not a place that Theo had left and returned to. I wondered if he felt like a guest in his mother’s home.
He came out of the bathroom and got on top of the covers next to me.
He glared at the ceiling in the dark. I breathed in the minty scent of toothpaste. He had removed his shirt, and I lay mesmerized by the rise and fall of his bronze, smooth chest. Breathe, I reminded myself.
“Don’t do that.” He turned his glare to me. “Not you.”
“What?” I startled, caught in my inspection of him. Heat rushed to my face with the mortifying thought that he knew I was attracted to him. I didn’t expect him to have any interest in me, considering I had another man’s baby growing in me, but for whatever reason I welcomed his volatile companionship. Our fragile union was something I wanted to keep.
“Don’t do what?” I sounded guilty even to my own ears.
“Don’t look at me that way. I am not pathetic. Don’t act all sorry and worried for me.”
“No, I didn’t mean—”
“I’m sick of the pity.” He looked away and crossed his arms over his chest. “It means more than I can say that you don’t treat me that way. Don’t start.”
“I don’t pity you… really, I don’t,” I insisted. “You know my secret, and when we’re together, it’s the only time I’m not plagued with guilt. And it’s nice not to be so guarded. I wasn’t looking at you with pity.”
“What was that look for, then?”
“Curiosity.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I want to know more about you,” I said.
“What do you want to know?”
“Are you glad to be home?”
“No,” he answered quickly. “I shouldn’t be here. It’s good to see Mom and Jake and to finally meet Ellie. It’s cool to visit friends, I guess, but this is not how I wanted to come home. I let people down.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me.” He turned toward me. “Promise you won’t.”
“I promise,” I whispered. “I’m glad I met you. I’m glad you’re here.” I reached across the blanket, and his hand met mine halfway.
“Sure you are,” he agreed. “My problems make yours not look so bad.”
“You figured me out.” I laughed. “Theo, what happened tonight?”
“I’m cutting back on my pain meds. It caught up with me. Stop worrying. You get some rest, or you’ll be miserable tomorrow.” He slid my hand back toward me, gave it a squeeze and pulled away. When he shut his eyes, he appeared to find sleep immediately.
The next thing I knew, pale sunlight filled the room, and Theo slept serenely next to me. I looked past him at the alarm clock. If Ellie and I were going to make it to the doctor’s on time, I had to move it. I tiptoed out of the room and made a beeline for the front door, collecting my flip-flops, hoodie, and purse along the way. I swung the door open and jumped.
Melinda stood on the other side of the door, keys raised. Her mouth was open, eyes wide, as we both froze for a moment. Then she blinked twice.
My stomach clenched. “It’s not what you think.” I shifted my stuff to block her view of my bulge.
“Oh Meg, I thought that was your car in the driveway.” She smiled in that conspiratorial way as though in on my secret. If only she knew what I was keeping under wraps. Maybe then she wouldn’t be so quick to flash me a lopsided grin followed by a giggle.
I scooted past. “I’m late. I’ll see you later,” I called over my shoulder, picking up my pace.
She watched me pull out of the driveway and waved as I drove off.
Jake and Ellie lived down the road from Melinda’s house. I really had no choice but to show up in my sweats. Thank the heavens for looking out for me. Jake had already left by the time I pulled in the driveway.