by Jewel Ann
I laugh. “Yes. This is crazy. Hopefully my patient transporter, EMT, nursing student girlfriend will show up and demonstrate her caregiving skills.”
“Maybe I should stick around.”
“That would be safe. But I don’t want to be safe. I don’t want her to feel like she has an easy out.”
“Eli, you need to let her go or seriously hold on to her, but don’t string her along.” She rests her hand on mine.
“I know.”
She helps me out of the car as best that she can and situates my crutches under my arms. Yes, I’m stubbornly using both crutches even with my ribs protesting. Physical therapy has helped.
It takes us forever to get to the door, three knocks before Kellie answers the door, and one huge breath of courage to deliver my speech.
“Oh my gosh, Eli! W-what an unexpected surprise. Dorothy didn’t say you were coming. She’s not even home from work yet. Come in. Do you need some help? Hi, Lori. So nice to see you again.”
“It’s so nice to see you too. Sorry for the unexpected disruption.”
“It’s no problem. Have a seat wherever you’ll be most comfortable. Actually the most comfortable chair is in Dorothy’s game room, but there’s only one.”
“Perfect.” I work my way to the game room and her expensive reclining chair with all the bells and whistles.
“Oh … okay. Can I get either of you something to drink while you wait?”
“I’m not staying.” Mom wrinkles her nose while depositing my overnight bag just inside the door to the game room as I ease into the soft fabric, letting my crutches drop to the floor on either side of the chair.
“Oh.” Kellie narrows her eyes at my bag before shifting her attention to my mom and then to me.
“Dorothy hasn’t been able to make time to come see me, so I thought I’d surprise her. But since it’s late, and I can’t drive, I brought a bag. I’ll figure out how to get home tomorrow. Hope this is okay.” I smile.
Kellie grins as if my intentions are quite clear. She most likely knows enough about the previous weeks to know that Dorothy simply isn’t ready to see me. “Sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in a long time.”
Yeah, she knows.
“Great.” Mom clasps her hands next to her chest. “Looks like you’re good, Eli. So … I’ll head home.”
“He’s in good hands.” Kellie winks at my mom and walks her to the door.
They murmur a few more things to each other, but I can’t make out the words. After the door shuts, Kellie brings me some water and a bag of microwave popcorn.
“Dorothy really misses Roman.” She hands me the popcorn and stands next to the chair, tightening the sash on her robe.
“He adores her. She’s his superhero. I’m sure he would love to show her his Flash costume that my mom and Julie bought him for Halloween. He’s going to have it worn out before he gets a chance to go out trick or treating in it.”
Kellie laughs. “Oh Dorothy would love to see it.”
“Kellie, I’m … I’m sorry. I feel like I’m failing Dorothy at the moment because I’m injured and dealing with my ex-wife living with me again and my family always around helping me. I just …”
“Dorothy thinks you belong with Dr. Hathaway.” She blurts the words out so quickly, it takes me a few seconds to process them. “I want to believe that she’ll tell you that to your face, but it might come out as a different version. However, those were the words she said to me. And it’s not because she doesn’t like you. She does … so much so. But … you need to know where her head is right now, and I fear she won’t be able to adequately articulate her thoughts. You see, her grandfather cheated on her grandmother many years ago. Not just cheated, he fell in love with another woman. My brother was three at the time—Roman’s age. I hadn’t even been conceived. My father left his new love to go back to his family. My mother took him back. Had she not taken him back, I wouldn’t be here, therefore Dorothy wouldn’t be here. She knows the story. It’s been retold to her many times.”
After careful thought, I return an easy nod and a tiny smile. What can I say? Maybe nothing. Maybe the right words don’t exist. “Thank you for telling me that.”
She smiles. “Thank you for loving my daughter.”
Outwardly, I keep a soft smile. Inside? It feels like a jagged piece of metal being shoved into my heart.
“Yell if you need anything. I’ll be going to bed soon, but I’m a light sleeper. And Dorothy should be home soon too.”
“Thank you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Fuck the Truth
Dorothy
Yes!
Barbecue jackfruit sandwich and apple pie leftovers in the fridge. It’s enough to keep me from taking a walk. With it getting darker earlier, I find it less appealing to take walks on the nights I get home close to nine from the hospital.
After throwing the leftovers on a plate, grabbing a fork, and a glass of water, I make my way to my game room.
“What the fuck?” I flip on the light to the room, seeing a figure in my chair.
“Hello to you too.” Eli pushes the button on the side of the chair, bringing it to an upright position. Then he shuts off the TV before I can register what he’s watching.
“What are you doing here?”
He grins. “I’m here to see you. Is that apple pie?”
I glance at my plate. “Yes.”
“I love apple pie.”
“So?”
Eli chuckles. “So get your ass over here and share some with me.”
“It’s only one piece.”
“Hence the word share.”
My nose wrinkles.
“I won’t go down on you until after we share the pie.” He winks.
I squeeze my legs together.
“I’m joking. Do I look sexually active yet?” He gestures to his cast.
“How’s Romeo?” I sit on the arm of the chair, with my plate on my lap.
“You mean The Flash? Because that’s who he is now that he has his Halloween costume early.” Eli brings up a photo of Romeo Flash on his phone.
“Oh my god, he’s so adorable.” I tap the prongs of the fork against my lower lip while grinning at the picture.
Eli sets his phone down on the other arm of the chair and exhales an audible breath. “Julie wants me back.”
Ugh. My appetite begins to wane. Not because I wasn’t expecting the conversation, I just thought he’d wait until I ate my sandwich and made him beg for pie. “She’s smart. Even if it took her unusually long to come up with the right answer.” I shrug. “All that matters is that she did.”
“The right answer?” he asks.
“Duh. You and Roman. Choosing your family. Of course it’s the right answer.”
“For whom?” Eli’s eyes narrow.
“For Roman. And maybe for you and maybe for her too, but definitely the right choice for Roman.”
“And what about Dorothy Mayhem?”
“What about me?” I take a bite of my sandwich.
“You said you thought you loved me too.”
“So?” I mumble over cold barbecue jackfruit.
“And Roman likes you. A lot.”
I swallow and nod. “True. But I’m not his mom. Dr. Hathaway is his mom. And she should get to see him every day. So should you. And now that she’s back in the game, it’s kind of a no-brainer.”
“What if I choose you?”
“Then you’re an idiot.”
“Why?”
I hate his line of questioning. It’s stupid and completely pointless. “Because you have the chance to be with Roman every single day. Nights too. All the weekends and holidays.”
“But I want you.”
I stand and slide the plate onto my entertainment console, making a loud clank. “You are a stupid fucking idiot!” I grab the back of my neck with both hands, digging my fingers into the muscles along my neck to ease the tension. “If I could choose Roman over you, I would in
a heartbeat. Does that make you feel better? Does that ease your decision? He’s three, and smart, and funny, and he says all the cute things. And that smile …”
I wipe my cheeks, narrowing my eyes at my hands, a little confused and surprised to see tears. The sting of my eyes and the trickle down my cheek went unnoticed amid my anger. “That smile is life.” I wipe my hands on my pants. “So why in the hell would you choose to live half a life when you can have it all?”
Eli pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Doing what?”
“Making me feel like a terrible person.” He rubs his eyes and looks at me. They’re red.
“I’m not,” I whisper.
“You are. Because you’re using my son as leverage to take yourself out of the equation. But this isn’t an equation or a poll where everyone gets a vote. This is my goddamn life!”
I jump, hugging my arms to my chest. I’ve seen Eli slightly upset before, like when I agreed to go on a date with Warren or when I suggested Eli and Dr. Hathaway take Romeo to London. But those were nothing compared to Eli’s clenched jaw and tear-filled eyes taking me hostage in my own home. I can’t move. Not a single muscle.
He swallows hard, keeping his jaw locked and managing to blink several times without shedding those tears. “You’ve made me feel like a truly awful father. And I know that’s not what you meant to do, but you have. The guilt, Dorothy … you’re fucking killing me with guilt. You’ve turned loving you into a fault. An epic error in judgment. A choice …” He shakes his head and sniffles. “You weren’t supposed to be a choice. Not you. Not Roman. But you’ve laid it all out there. If I choose you, that means I’d have Roman part-time. But that makes me a ‘stupid fucking idiot’ in your eyes. So what’s the point?”
What did I do wrong? How do I excel at always messing things up? I spend so much time planning my moves and my words. I journal them and bounce them off my parents. How did a move that felt so selfless turn me into a monster? The judgmental enemy.
“Just …” I ease my head side to side, grimacing from the pounding inside of it. “Just tell me what you want me to say … what you want me to do.”
He hangs his head, closing his eyes.
I glance back at the door. Eli brought a bag, but who brought Eli? I look at my watch. It’s almost ten o’clock.
What would a neurotypical person do?
I’m not sure. This exact scenario hasn’t played out in the movies or my novels quite this way. I mean … given his complete demeanor, I assume he might want to storm out, get in his car, and squeal his tires.
But he can’t storm anywhere. I’m not sure he can even stand on his own.
No car.
My drive is gravel so no pavement for squealing tires.
That leaves me in uncharted territory with only one question.
What should I do?
Pie.
You can’t go wrong with pie, especially apple pie. I slide the plate from the console and kneel on the floor between Eli’s legs, giving the table his casted leg is on a tiny nudge. He opens his eyes, sharing a lifeless expression.
I think I put that on his face. Another example of my plans not at all going how I imagined they would go. So I fork up a bite of pie and hold it up to his mouth. After a few slow blinks, he takes the bite.
That brings a tiny smile to my face, even if he isn’t finding a single shred of happiness.
Because of me.
I take the next bite. The following bite includes the largest chunk of apple, the best bite of the whole slice. Slowly, I move it toward his mouth, hoping he pays attention to my offering, a peace offering of sorts.
He takes the bite, but his emotionless gaze remains affixed to me. Such a waste. I might as well have taken the bite for myself.
My bite.
His bite.
Mine.
His.
Yep, I take the last bite of crust, the one that’s a little crunchy but sweet with a thin sticky layer of apple filling clinging to it. Something tells me Eli wouldn’t appreciate it as much as I do.
With the pie gone, things get awkward again.
Nothing to say.
Nothing to do.
Yet a crippled man remains in my game room with his overnight bag by the door. And I need a shower. And my meds. And I had planned on working a few things out in my journals. But that’s all gone to Hell with the addition of Eli to my Saturday night. He’s about to quickly find out I have no fucking clue how to be a hostess. I don’t study things I never plan on doing, and inviting people to stay at my house is pretty high on my Unnecessary Skills To Learn List.
“Eli—”
“Shh …” He eases his head side to side. Taking the plate from me, he sets it on the arm of the chair and leans forward enough to slide his hand behind my head and pull me forward. We meet in the middle, a breath from our lips touching. “Just tell me you still think you love me too. Nothing else. Just that.”
I know it’s a mistake to fall in love with Dr. Hawkins. I know he’s bad news. Bad for my heart. Bad for my schedule. Bad for my train of thought.
But I do it anyway.
“I think I love you too … still.”
A barely detectable grin breaks through his pain-etched face just before he kisses me.
Well fuck.
This isn’t part of the plan. I’m supposed to step away. Yes, out of the equation. But he does this thing where he cradles my head in his large hands and kisses me with his demanding lips. For a final goodbye kiss, it feels highly inappropriate. Too much tongue for goodbye. And then I moan. Cries, maybe even whimpers, seem more appropriate for a final kiss.
Not moans.
But I do it anyway.
“You can’t choose me,” I say as soon as the kiss ends.
Eli rubs his lips together and nods slowly. “I won’t. I’ll wait for you to choose me.”
“What?” I rear my head back. “I already made my choice. I chose Roman having his parents back together. I chose Roman’s dad not kissing me like he’d rip off my clothes if he could.”
He grins. And if I wasn’t so relieved to see him not looking at me like I took an axe to his heart, I would be upset that he’s not taking things seriously.
“It wouldn’t be in record breaking time, but don’t fool yourself, Mayhem. I could rip your clothes off and locate your G-spot even with only half of my body working. If a resuscitated corpse can have an orgasm, imagine what I could do with two fully functional hands, my mouth, and a headful of dirty thoughts.”
Well … gulp … damn!
“Can you do me a favor?” he asks.
I shrug. Blind promises aren’t my thing.
“Can you let me recover? Can you give me a few meals with you, maybe a couple cups of coffee, maybe a playdate or two with Roman before you make your decision?”
“I told you—”
He kisses me again.
If I didn’t love his mouth on mine so much, I’d be offended that he keeps cutting me off.
“I won’t change my mind,” I say as I pull away.
He kisses my nose and then my forehead. “Then it won’t hurt to wait until I’m recovered. Besides, you can’t dump me right before the holidays. That’s just cruel.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He smiles.
“Whatever. Clearly you don’t know how my brain works. But … you’ll find out.” I climb to my feet.
Eli grabs my hand and kisses the inside of my wrist. “Clearly you don’t know how my love works. But … you’ll find out.”
“Where did you plan on sleeping when you showed up uninvited and unannounced?”
“Your bed. I let you sleep in mine. You owe me.”
“My bed is smaller.”
“Then you’ll have to let me hold you so neither one of us falls out.”
“If we zip in, that won’t be an issue, but you put off a lot of body heat, so zipping in could get too hot
.”
“Zip in? What are you talking about?”
“I’ll just show you.” I pick up his crutches. “You can lean on me too. I’m a lot stronger than I look.”
* * *
Elijah
Dorothy helps me to her bedroom via the bathroom for a quick piss and teeth brushing. I didn’t get a chance to inspect her room as much during my previous time there.
“It’s not a twin bed.”
“No.” She unzips her bed. Not a sleeping bag. Actual decorative sheets and bedspread, all-in-one thing that goes on like a fitted sheet, but it all zips up. “It’s for people who don’t like to make their beds or lose their covers off the side in the middle of the night,” she explains while helping me into bed.
“I’m overdressed for bed.”
Dorothy twists her lips. “Did you bring pajamas?”
“Yes, they’re called underwear, and I already have them on. I just need to remove my shirt and sweatpants.”
“You mean me. You need me to remove them for you.”
“Yes.”
She eases my shirt over my head. “Did Dr. Hathaway do this for you at your house? Undress you?”
“Yes.”
“Humpf.”
“Did you just humpf my answer?”
“No.” She slides my sweatpants down my legs, over my cast, and then pulls off my socks.
“Jealous that someone else has been undressing me?”
“No.” She folds my clothes and sets them on top of my bag. “Do you need extra pillows for your leg?”
“An extra one for my leg would be great.”
She positions a pillow under my leg and zips my side of the bed. Let me repeat … zips my side of the bed.
“I’m going to shower, brush and floss, and take my pills. You good?”
“I’m zipped up in Dorothy Mayhem’s bed. The only way I could be better is if you tied me to it and had your way with me—gently and with utmost caution for my injuries, of course.”
Dorothy returns a blank expression. I think she gets my humor, minus actually finding anything humorous about it. “So you’re good. Okay. I’m going to shower.”
By the time she makes it through her nighttime routine, I start to drift off to sleep.
