Stepdork

by Murphy, A. E.

  We pause, suspended in time as I search his eyes for an answer. When he steps back I instantly miss his body heat, his scent, the feel of his heartbeat under my fingers.

  I watch and wait as he lifts his left leg and places his sock-clad foot on the stool. Then he lifts his pants leg and my hand flies to my mouth.

  To say there’s scarring would be an understatement. From his ankle to his knee are deep grooves from staples, pins, and what look to be tears in the skin. I recognize that kind of scarring, but not on this level. His muscle is deformed in areas, visible to the naked eye, hair doesn’t grow where the severe scarring is so it’s not an injury that can go unnoticed, which means it was likely life-altering.

  My eyes sting so badly. “Oh, Travis… what the hell happened to you?”

  “You really want to know?”

  “Yes.”

  “That picture you sent went to Rita’s phone. You remember her? The one with the gang tats and the green hair?”

  I remember her just fine; she was someone even I avoided when she decided to attend school. Part of a bad crowd.

  “Well her psychotic, drug-dealing boyfriend wasn’t happy with it. He and his friends beat the ever-loving shit out of me and then reversed over my leg with their car.” Nausea roils as I listen. I think I’m going to vomit. “I had three surgeries, bone reconstruction, muscle repair, skin grafts… I lived in hospital for months, I had to have constant physical therapy and still do every month. I’ll be on pain killers for the rest of my life. I’ll never be able to run again.” He yanks the leg of his pants down to his ankle. “That’s why I didn’t come after you. That’s why nobody forgave you.” I step back and away from him, feeling the nausea rise. I did so much damage. I hurt him so much. “That’s why I’m so fucking mad at you. I have to walk with a cane like an old man. It’s why I kind of hoped you were a junkie, because if you were more miserable than I have been all these years, then you were being punished by whoever the fuck created this place and chose this path for me.”

  “Trav… I… I just…” I want to run, to compose myself and scream at the unfairness of it all.

  “Instead you’re this badass doctor, looking after kids and vulnerable people, living a life of luxury in the city, no end of men at your disposal.” He doesn’t stop there, and I listen because he deserves my ears and I need to hear it. “I had to put my life on hold for a year, I lost my scholarship, I lost my place at Stanford, and I lost you and you didn’t even come back to check on me.”

  “Nobody told me, I swear, I didn’t know… If I’d known…”

  “You wouldn’t have even answered the phone when Dad called because you’re a fucking coward.”

  I wipe my eyes on my sleeve and then bury my face in my arms on the island. I just need a moment. Just a moment. I want to take it outside, to run back to my car and drive away and pretend I never heard this so the weight of it doesn’t affect me like it is. I’m a horrible person.

  “I’m so sorry, Travis.” I finally stand tall again, letting my tears fall as I face him. “I’ll do whatever it is you want me to do. You tell me and I’ll do it. I’ll stay away, I’ll move here, whatever you want.” When he stares at me blankly and doesn’t say anything, I grip the edge of his shirt between my finger and thumb. “Trav…”

  “I don’t want your fucking pity, Raven,” he snarls angrily and grabs my hair, pulling my head back so he can look down at my face. My tight strands of hair tingle my scalp and his eyes make me shiver as they roam over my face, following my tears and distress.

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

  “Good, you actually sound like you mean it now,” he rumbles and releases me. “It is whatever. It happened. I shouldn’t be so bitter about it and if you were any less of the woman that you are, I probably wouldn’t be. I guess I’m a little bit jealous.”

  “Why are you jealous? I may not have been through what you went through but I lost everybody.”

  “That was your own choice.”

  “You’re right, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.”

  He sighs and his shoulders sag. “Well, I guess it’s out in the open now.”

  “Do you think you could forgive me?”

  His eyes scan my tear-stained face again and then roll down my body, to the pointed toes of my pumps. “I guess so.” He finally smiles and I’m surprised when he opens his arms to me.

  I hesitate before stepping into them and wrap my arms around his back as he wraps his around mine. I’ve never felt so safe and warm in somebody’s arms before. Not for a very long time.

  “I’m so so sorry, Travis. I’m so sorry.”

  “I know,” he whispers against my hair, “as bitter as I just said I am, it’s really good to see you, Raven.”

  “It’s really good to see you too.” I sniff, using my blocked nose as an excuse to inhale his scent further into my lungs. Hugging him is too easy, it’s familiar and cozy like it always was. “Will you tell me everything?”

  “Everything?”

  “Yes,” I mutter, still holding him. “I want to know everything, you said you lost your place at Stanford, but you still graduated from there, did you change course? What happened? What friends did you make? Did you fall in love? Did you get any new hobbies? Where did you work?” I lean back and look into his eyes, catching a gentle silhouette that is my reflection in his glasses. “I want to know everything.”

  “That’s a lot of questions,” he mumbles, smiling now and it’s so good to see him smile.

  It fades when I ask, “What happened to the guys that hurt you?”

  “Liam the dealer got sent down, the others got lesser sentences and probation. They’re all out and free now, Liam is doing well for himself. He came to apologize himself a few years ago, to make amends.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I punched him in his face and sent him on his way.”

  I grin and squeeze his solid bicep. “Did he wipe out?”

  “He hit the ground so hard I thought I’d be facing a murder charge.”

  I grin up at him with stinging eyes and wet lips. “Dude.”

  I notice his eyes flicker to my lips before he releases me and clears his throat, putting a fair amount of distance between us. “Let’s move to the den, I’ll make fresh coffee.”

  “Okay.” I want to offer to make it for him but I have a feeling that’ll just hurt his pride at this point. “So, begin. You went back to Stanford?”

  “Did pretty well too. You?”

  “Harvard med,” I reply and he blinks at me. “What? Is that so hard to believe?” When he raises a brow, I laugh and shrug. “I’m kidding, I stayed local to the city, I was working so I had to.”

  “Nothing wrong with that. You’ve done well for yourself regardless of where you graduated from.”

  “I worked my ass off.”

  He smiles again and I love the sight of it. “What about friends over there? Do you have many?”

  “A few. You?”

  “I’d like to think I’ve made some friends for life, but we’ll see.”

  I nod knowingly and take my old cup of coffee to the sink. It’s cold now. I also carefully discard the glass as he percolates fresh coffee beans. The smell is divine.

  “No boyfriend?”

  I startle at his question and look at him though he’s not looking at me. “No, I haven’t had time to date.”

  “Right.”

  “No, seriously, I’ve been pulling fifteen-hour shifts for the past four years, some longer.” I drag my teeth across my lip. “What about you? Girlfriend?”

  “Nobody wants to date a cripple.”

  “That sounded so self-pitying,” I snap playfully, flicking at him with a towel. “You’re gorgeous, Trav. I bet you have no end of admirers.”

  “Stop saying my name like that,” he growls, his demeanor changing entirely.

  “Sorry,” I quickly put in and he relaxes. I change the subject, mentally reminding myself to try not to say hi
s name at all, to avoid upsetting him. “Are you hungry? You didn’t come to dinner. Maybe I can grab us something?”

  “No, I ate already. The Gilligans next door fed me.”

  “Good.” I look around and listen to the sound of the coffee pouring into two fresh mugs. “Do you want to give me a tour?”

  “What is it with women and liking house tours?” He’s joking of course. I think. “What’s your place like?”

  “It’s a penthouse apartment, with a gorgeous view of New York. I can see the Statue of Liberty and everything,” I lie as he rounds the counter to join me, his slight limp not holding him back in the slightest.

  “What’s it really like?”

  “It’s a one-bedroom apartment across from the hospital, but it does have a nice view.”

  He hums thoughtfully. “Not really somewhere you can settle down with kids then?”

  “I couldn’t afford to do that in the city on my salary. Besides, I don’t want kids for a long long time.”

  “Right.” He takes me into the hall and shows me a bathroom and two plain, empty rooms. Then he shows me the back yard which has a bit more character to it than the empty rooms. We go back on ourselves and he shows me the den, before finally, his bedroom which, surprisingly, is just like it was back home when we were teens. Except it’s bigger and there are more of the game figures on the wall.

  “It’s like stepping through a time portal,” I mutter, moving into the room and looking around. “You always were neat and tidy.”

  “I like everything to have a place,” he mutters, his cheeks stained pink above his stubble line.

  I grab the cord above my head to the right and pull. A pristine white screen unravels, just like back home back in the day.

  “Still into your projectors?”

  “Hell yeah.” He points to the heavy-looking projector that has been securely fastened to the ceiling above his large bed. “A TV this size couldn’t fit in here.”

  “That is a fair point,” I agree and back out of the room.

  He sits on a large, brown leather reclining sofa in the den as I walk around the room, admiring books on the shelves, the kind of books he’s always read except his collection has advanced by far. The silence is relaxed, though the feel of his eyes on me as I look around his belongings is far from relaxing.

  “So,” I say and turn to face him.

  His injured leg is crossed over his other leg on the reclined corner he’s chosen as his spot. He looks comfortable, at home, which makes sense because it is his home.

  I move to the matching chair opposite and sip the coffee I abandoned.

  “How do you like your job?”

  “Pay’s great,” he replies easily.

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  His eyes narrow and his lips twitch. “It’s a stepping stone to what I actually want to do, but it’s a decent job. I enjoy it for the most part. What about you?”

  “I love my job.” I beam at him. “It has its moments, but I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”

  “Good,” he replies. “Is that because of the location or…?”

  Narrowing my eyes playfully, I shift in my seat and ask, “Is this you trying to low-key convince me to stay in the city?”

  “Not at all, I’m genuinely curious.”

  “Mmm,” I hum and sip my drink again. “I’ll be sad to leave if that’s what I decide, but really it’s the job. Of course who I work with and my patients have a massive impact on that, but more than anything it’s what I do as opposed to who I do it with.” I inhale a breath. “I’ll miss my patients, especially the kids. They’re so funny, the things they say and come out with. They see illness and medicine in such a unique way.”

  “I don’t think I’d be able to do it.” His signature frown deepens. “Must be hard when you lose them? Or do you become desensitized to it?”

  I swallow and my smile fades.

  “If it’s hard to talk about…”

  “No, no, it’s not that. I mean, of course it’s hard. The kids are the hardest. I can rationalize it with adults and elderly and lock down on those emotions, but when it’s a child or a toddler, it’s devastating. We have thorough counseling and other such things when we suddenly lose a child. It can eat at you if you let it.”

  “How do you get through it?”

  “I focus on my other patients. It’s the only way.”

  He sits up, clicking the foot of the sofa back into place. “Do you talk to your friends about it?”

  I shrug while trying to hide my pain. “Not really, they’re all doctors and nurses themselves. It’s not something we speak about. We like to shut it all off when we leave work.”

  “Well, if you need to, you can always speak to me.”

  “You won’t go back to hating me when I leave?” I’m only half joking.

  His cheeks puff out with a harsh breath. “I don’t hate you, but you have to understand how hard this is for me. You’re the catalyst for all of the things that went wrong in my life.”

  My lower lip starts to tremble again. I hate myself for crying, I don’t deserve the tears. “I know. And if you give me the chance I’ll never let you down again, Trav.” He grits his teeth when I speak his name that way again. “I wish I could turn back time and tell you how I felt at the wedding. If I’d ditched the girls before they ditched me I could have stayed local and we could have… we could still be…”

  “Don’t go there,” he snaps, sounding panicked. He raises his hand to finalize his stopping point on that topic. “That’s not something you need to apologize for. I have no regrets where our relationship was concerned. Let’s focus less on the romance of two stupid kids and now just focus on maybe building a friendship.”

  Well at least he doesn’t regret being with me, I guess that’s something. But he also doesn’t regret breaking up with me and that stings even though it shouldn’t. Does he not realize that I’ll always see him as the one that got away?

  “So, you still paint the little figures?” He nods at my question. I smile and continue, “Do you still play the game?”

  “Sometimes, not very often, it seems childish now.”

  My lips part. “That game was so much fun, not childish at all.”

  We share a smile. “You’re right, but still…”

  He trails off and we fall into an uncomfortable and awkward silence. I wish there was something in the background to focus on.

  “This is a really nice house though,” I say, just to break the quiet. Though of course I mean it too. “It’s in a great area it seems.”

  “I needed something one level and close to work.”

  “Something fit for a family?”

  He snorts. “Nothing that sentimental.”

  I shake my head, a smirk teasing my lips. “So you’re honestly telling me you don’t have some science dork pressuring you into marriage?”

  “I don’t date.”

  My smirk fades because his tone is harsh. “Because of your leg?”

  He looks at me, a sadness back in his eyes that wasn’t there moments ago. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to Mom and Dad?”

  I freeze and my smile slowly fades. “I thought… I guess… I mean, yeah, sure.”

  “I’ll call you, when you’re back in the city, we’ll talk some more.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat, hiding the devastation that I’m feeling from his rejection. “That sounds good. Will you really though?”

  His smile is weak but it seems genuine. “Sure, maybe I’ll visit you in the city or something? You can show me the Big Apple.”

  I nod as I grab my bags, abandoning my coffee, and he walks me to the door. His limp evident and I wonder if he’s in much pain right now.

  I place my work bag on the ground as I rummage through my handbag for my car keys. When I fist them in my hand, Travis leans around me to pull open the door. I have to step back out of its way and bump straight into his chest.

  His free hand goes to my
waist to steady me, not that I was falling or anything. I’m a lot more poised than I once was.

  I mutter a thanks and bend to pick my work bag back up, not realizing how close he is. My rear, of course, brushes his groin and he jerks his hips away from me, muttering a curse as quietly as I muttered my thanks.

  “I guess I’ll see you around,” I say softly and tilt my head back to kiss his cheek. He leans into it and then watches me go.

  I take my time putting my bag in the trunk. I take even longer getting into the car and starting the engine. A feeling of dread scrapes my soul as I reverse onto the street and then pull forward and watch his house vanish from view.

  This is good though. That was a good meeting.

  What’s even better is the text I receive when I finally arrive at Dad’s.

  Travis: Let me know that you get to Mom’s okay.

  Raven: Just got in. x

  I contemplate deleting the kiss but end up sending it anyway.

  The second Dad exits the house to greet me, I break down into tears, soaking his shirt.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you let me know?”

  “He told you?”

  I pull away and wipe my eyes. “About his leg? Yeah, he told me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “He didn’t want us to, and to be honest, I was mad and broken that you left without saying goodbye.” His words are words he’s already said but they don’t hurt any less. “We had to help him get better, we didn’t have time to run around after you. As far as we were concerned you had made your choice, you were living it large with your girls in NYC. We had no reason to believe otherwise.”

  “I know, I really messed up,” I whisper, grimacing at the mess of it all. “I like to think I would have come back though, if somebody told me.”

  “Travis didn’t want you to give up your life. That was his decision. By the time we realized you were alone and not with the girls…” He scratches his shaved jaw and breathes out a sigh.

  “And then you sent the police looking for me and I was too stubborn and proud to come home.”

  “It’s a mess of a situation, but it all worked out in the end. Look at you making the family proud. Travis is doing extremely well too.”