by Kelli Walker
My eyes slid back over to Charity and I felt something knot up in my stomach. It knotted so tightly it burst, and soon billions of butterflies filled my stomach. My lungs. My veins. My spine. There was a mixture of panic and anger. Happiness and joy. Lust and want. But above all else, there was happiness.
It made my happy, looking at her.
“My mother always told me that people have the capability to create a life with anyone they choose,” Matthew said.
“We both know your mother is a lunatic,” I said, chuckling.
“Maybe so. But, she also said that even though humans were made to adapt, we were also made to bond. She always told me as a little boy that everyone had that perfect someone out there. That soulmate. That other part of them that was lost to the world. She said anyone can create a life with anyone else, but it’s only when we find that other piece of ourselves do we truly feel whole. Did you ever feel whole with her, Rocco? With Brianna?”
I bit down onto the inside of my cheek before I shook my head.
“You know I don’t believe in that shit,” I mumbled.
“Do you feel whole when you’re around Charity?” Matthew asked.
“It doesn’t matter. I agree with your mother, for once, on one point. It is possible to create a life with anyone we choose. If someone wants to make it work, they will. That was why Brianna hurt so much. Yes, I fell in love with her. While she was a client. While we were saving her life. While we were stuck in close quarters with one another. But, when we got back, she had a choice. She could have made it work with either of us. And she chose her fiance. She didn’t want to make it work with me, Matthew. That was why it hurt so much. That was the bullshit of it all.”
“None of that answered my question, Rocco. You’re deflecting, and I think I know why.”
I leaned back into my chair and raked my hands down my face.
“How do you explain your draw to her, then?” Matthew asked.
“Being cooped up with a beautiful woman,” I said plainly.
“How do you explain the fact that you can spend all of this time in the hospital with her, day in and day out?”
“Guilt.”
“How do you explain the fact that you’ve been massaging her latent muscles and bending every single one of her joints so that she doesn’t get stiff with bedsores lying in this place?” he asked.
“See the previous answer,” I said.
“Then, how do you explain all of that together once you add in the fact that you’ve only known her two weeks and probably haven't uttered a single fucking word to her?”
That question, I couldn't explain. I didn’t have an answer for it. I intentionally kept my guard up with Charity. I intentionally didn’t talk to her because I didn’t want to open up to her. I didn’t want her poking at my walls. And yet, somehow, I’d come to be drawn to her more than any other person I’d ever come across. Somehow, she knew things about me simply because I nodded and shook my head at her. She had taken the time to find a way to communicate with me and learn about me while taking into account the simple fact that I wouldn't open my mouth to speak.
She was resourceful. A creature to be marveled.
“I don’t have an answer for that,” I said.
“The worst possible thing you could do at this point is lie to yourself,” Matthew said.
“Got it.”
“The case is wrapped up. Loretta and Jose have been arrested. Charity’s brownstone has been cleaned out by our clean-up crew and repairs are underway as we speak. The only thing you have to focus on is work. Or, her. It’s a simple choice,” he said.
“Are you asking me which one I’d rather focus on?”
“That’s exactly what I’m asking. So, take your pick. Because I think the answer is going to lend itself to some truth you need right about now.”
And it didn’t take me long before the truth rolled off the tip of my tongue.
“Take over work until I can get back,” I said.
“I’ll let the teams in the field know of the temporary change in command,” Matthew said.
Then, he got up from his chair and left me alone. Left me to the beeping of the heart monitor and the soft snores coming from Charity’s lips.
The only sound that reassured me she was still alive as I slipped off into my own sleep with my hands in my lap and my head against the wall.
Charity
My body rose to the surface of my sleep as the smell of eggs wafted up my nose. Buttered toast. Strawberries. I sniffed the air deeply. Were those pancakes I smelled? I sat myself up in bed, groaning as my body slowly unlocked itself. It didn’t take much focus to know I was bruised up pretty badly. They ran deep. Beyond the first layer of my muscles and felt as if they sat straight against my bones.
I sat against the pillows my hospital bed and reached out in front of me. Eating without being able to see would prove to be a task, but if my sight was gone forever, I needed to get used to it.
As my fingertips slid over the fork, I felt something warm come down onto my wrist. I jerked back, gasping at the touch. Someone was in the room with me? I hadn’t heard anyone come in. Then again, someone had to be in the room in order to get me my food.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“I’ve got it.”
I heard the fork clanking around as that voice settled against my ears. The gravelly sound of someone who had just gotten up. Or possibly been up, but hadn’t used their voice. I recognized that voice. From yesterday. The man that had been in my room when I woke up the first time.
The man whose hand I reached out for to try and find.
I reached out for the fork again and his hand came down around my wrist. He settled it into my lap, but I picked up my other hand. It took me a little while to figure out what he was doing. But, the second I heard the fork cutting into the strawberries, I shook my head.
“I don’t know who you are, but I can feed myself,” I said.
“You sure about that?” the man asked.
“Just because I can’t see doesn’t mean I can’t use a fork.”
He chuckled, and it rattled my ribcage. It sent butterflies off in my stomach. It pissed me off. It was like my body knew something my mind hadn’t been clued into yet. I racked my brain, trying to place the voice. Trying to figure out how in the world I knew this man in my room. I felt stupid. He moved as if he knew me. He talked with me as if he knew me. Was I insulting him by not knowing who he was?
I heard the fork cut into the strawberries again, filling the room with their perfume.
“I said, I’ve got it,” I said.
“Fine. I’ll put the fork in your hand and you can try it yourself,” the man said.
His large, calm hand wrapped around my wrist and he raised it up. He placed the fork against my palm and I worked it between my fingers. He settled my hand onto the plate, placing the heel of my palm against the edge of my tray.
“Have at it,” he said.
He released my wrist and I stabbed at my food. But when I brought the first bite to my lips, I felt something drop onto my body. It was warm. It made me jump. Something bled through the hospital gown I was in as it tumbled into my lap. I puffed out a sigh through my nose and put my fork back on the plate, but it took me a little while to nail down where the strawberries were.
I ended up knocking over my coffee in the process.
“Shit,” I whispered.
“You’ve got it. Move your hand a little to the left,” the man said.
“I’ve spilled my coffee.”
“I can get you more.”
“Move the damn liquid off my tray.”
“Move your hand a little to the left, and I won’t have to,” he said.
I gritted my teeth together, but did as I was asked. And when my fork knocked against my plate, I tried stabbing at my food again. I didn't care what I ate at this point, so long as I tried to eat. My free hand slid into my lap, searching around for the food I had dropped earlier.
My fingertips ran into a clump of eggs and it made me grimace.
I picked up the egg and tossed it back down into the tray. At least, I thought it was the tray. Until I felt the eggs knock against the side of my calf. I squealed and threw my knee up, trying to get away from the foreign sensation. And when I did, I knocked against the underside of the table.
And the rest of my drinks went spilling all over.
“Damn it!” I exclaimed.
“Let me help you,” the man said.
I tossed my fork down onto the tray, cursing myself.
“At least I fucking got the fork on there,” I murmured.
I leaned back into my hospital bed as liquid dripped onto my hospital gown. I heard the man walking around, doing things I didn’t want to try and decipher. Tears prickled the backs of my eyes again. It stung so bad I whimpered. I listened to him wipe up the liquid mess, sloshing the juice around and wiping down the table.
“I’m going to wipe off your leg. Don’t throw it into my nose, okay?” the man asked.
“Ha. Ha. Ha,” I said curtly.
“I thought it was funny.”
“This isn’t funny. I can’t see what the hell I’m doing, and I might not ever see it again.”
“Then, you should start getting used to it, I guess,” he said.
“Was that a joke? Because if it was, you’re bad at telling jokes.”
“You’ve really got a mouth on you when you want to have one,” he said.
Then, I felt the towel come down onto my leg.
I stayed as still as I could, feeling him wipe at the mess I had created. He removed the egg and the juice from my skin, cleaning me down before he replaced my blanket. He fluttered it over my legs before the room went silent again, and I wondered if he had left me.
I couldn't blame him. I wanted to leave, too.
A few minutes later, I heard another tray being set down. I listened as a chair pulled up to my side. I cocked my head, trying to figure out what was going on. Training my ears to decipher things my eyes usually did. But, when I felt something tap against my lip, I knew what was happening.
“Let me help you,” the man said again.
I parted my lips and I felt the pancakes slide against my tongue. I wrapped my lips around the fork and he slid it back out, and my saliva glands kicked into overdrive. I moaned at the taste of them. At the melted butter that had been slathered on them. Bite after bite of buttery pancakes, fed to me by a man whose voice made me soar into the heavens.
There were strawberries, sweetened with a bit of sugar as a nice little dessert. There was crispy bacon, which he held to my lips as I bit into it. There was coffee and juice, both of which he held to my lips as he cradled the back of my head.
His entire hand practically encompassed the back of my damn head.
Rocco’s hands were that big.
I pushed the thought from my mind. No use thinking about that man now. He was long gone. My case had been wrapped up. According to Reese, all of the parties involved had been caught. He was back at work, and I was laying in a hospital. With some mystery volunteer helping me do the simplest of things.
I swallowed the last of my pancakes. “So, how long have you volunteered with the hospital.”
“Come again?” the man asked.
“Volunteered. How long have you been on this floor?” I asked.
“Um…”
“That long, huh?”
“Not necessarily,” he said.
“That short? Still getting to know the ropes?” I asked.
“Something like that,” he said.
“The hospital frequently hires volunteers like you. On this particular level, the volunteers go around to the rooms and help those who can’t see. Like you’re doing now. I must be your first patient.”
“That you are.”
“Well, I woke make it too hard on you. Most people have news articles they want read to them or text messages on their phones. I don’t have any of that stuff.”
“You don’t have any news articles you want me to read?” he asked.
“I’ve had my fill of the news for a lifetime,” I breathed.
I heard the man chuckle and the sound punched me in the gut. I have no idea why his voice sounded so familiar, but it did. I have no idea why his touch felt so familiar, but it did. I heard him clearing up my tray before he slid the table away from my bed. I sat up in bed, trying to guide my legs slowly over the edge of it.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.
“There’s this thing called the bathroom in the corner. Most people use it after they first wake up,” I said.
“Then, let me help you.”
“I don’t need help going to the bathroom.”
“Not going. But getting there,” he said.
Before I could say anything else, I felt his arm wrap around my waist. And in a flash, my eyes ignited with fire. There was this rectangle in my vision. This dark rectangle with reds and oranges and whites projecting out from its sides. It was the weirdest thing for me to see. And I knew it wasn’t real. Even in my pain, I knew my eyelids were closed. If my sight had come back, there was no way I could have possibly seen anything that was in front of me through the gauze.
What the hell was that fiery rectangle, then?
The man held me in his strong grasp, his fingers curling into my waist. He steadied me to the bathroom, and for some reason I trusted his guidance. His presence. I experienced first-hand why the hospital let him volunteer. It was hard for someone to bond like this so quickly with a patient. Many times, I’d had to switch out volunteers in my patient’s rooms because they didn’t like who had been assigned to them.
He’s safe. Like Rocco.
“Get a hold of yourself,” I murmured.
“What was that?” the man asked.
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
“Do you do that a lot?”
“Usually.”
“I do it, too. No worries,” he said.
“Are we at the bathroom yet? Because it’s bordering on an emergency.”
“Reach out your hand and you’ll feel the doorframe.”
I settled my palm onto the cool metal and turned my head to where I figured the man’s eyes would be. I don’t know why Rocco was on my mind so much. Maybe because the last thing I remembered was him showing up at my front door. Quirking that eyebrow of his. Charging into my home like he owned it. Like he was there to stake his claim on it.
“Thank you for your help,” I said.
“I’ll be here as long as you need,” the man said.
And those butterflies exploded in my stomach again as that nagging sensation in the back of my mind started tapping at my skull.
You’re missing something, Charity. Put it together.
The voice crept up, but the only thing I could think about was Rocco. How much I wished he was there instead of the comforting hospital volunteer. How much I wished I could contact him and thank him for doing whatever it was he did to save my life. I couldn’t remember the accident. I couldn't remember anything. What I did know was that, no matter what had taken place, I was alive because of his actions.
I wanted to thank him for that.
And maybe my kind hospital volunteer could help me with that task.
Rocco
“You sure you don’t want me to read anything to you today?” I asked.
“I’m sure,” Charity said.
“So, you don’t want television. Which tosses out the idea for a movie. Do you just want to sit here in silence?”
“We could talk.”
“Or I could read you something.”
“You talked to Reese, didn’t you?” she asked.
“She may or may not have shoved a book into my hands before she walked out of the room,” I said.
Charity has been in the hospital for a week and a half. I hadn’t left her side that entire time, which meant I was bound to start getting to know her friend. Reese.
The nurse that worked a couple of floors below where we were. She had come in with a few things to read out to Charity, but Charity had refused all of them. Even gotten frustrated at the fact that Reese kept insisting she pick something to entertain herself.
Charity’s response?
“Once I can see again, I’ll entertain myself.”
Charity sighed. “Of course, she did.”
“In my opinion, it looks like a good book. Got a nice shirtless man on the front of it. A woman collapsed in his arms,” I said.
“She did not hand you one of those kinds of books.”
“They’re standing on a mountain top. He’s got a sword thrust in the air.”
“What ‘sword’ are we talking about here?” she asked.
“Don’t get so excited. I’m sure I’d have to read in a few chapters before we got there,” I said, grinning.
“You’re pulling my leg. That’s not the kind of book you have.”
“It’s called ‘Untamed Desires’. Woman’s kind of hot, too.”
Charity scoffed at my words.
“My abs are better, though,” I said.
A small giggle fell from her lips. And then, a string of giggles fell from her lips. The smirk on her face grew into a smile, and soon her head was falling back and laughter filled the room. I smiled along with her. Let out some laughter myself. The tension in the room diffused as she Charity heaved a sigh, then turned her head in my direction.
It killed me, not seeing her beautiful brown stare accompany it.
“What did she really give you?” Charity asked.
“It’s a book of poems,” I said.
“Ah, that sounds more like Reese.”
“She a fan of them?”
“No. But, she knows I am,” she said.
“I don’t meet many people who enjoy them.”
“Do you?”
“I do, yes.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met a man that enjoys poems,” she said.
“First time for everything, I guess,” I said.
“My mother read them to me as bedtime stories.”
“Poems?” I asked.
Charity nodded. “Mhm. She always said that the way to grow a mind is to constantly challenge it. She might have taken that a little too far, though. Reading W.B. Yeats to a five-year old.”