by Debra Doxer
It was stupid, and for the first time I thought maybe my father was right about me.
***
Theo: The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.
I thought my father couldn’t think any less of me, but no matter what he thought, it didn’t stop him from taking care of me. He ran me a bath, and when my fingers wouldn’t cooperate, he unbuttoned my sweater and pants. Then he kept his eyes averted as I removed my clothing and stepped into the bathtub. He was quiet and attentive, and said nothing else about how foolish I’d been.
For hours, I soaked in the tub, draining the water before it got too cold and refilling it with water that was as hot as I could stand. My skin was wrinkled and looked like a prune, but eventually sensation returned everywhere, even in my fingers, with the exception of my index and middle fingers on both hands. Those fingers were always the worst during the winter months, and now their tips remained dark purple.
When I showed my father, he couldn’t hide the worry in his eyes. He went right to his phone and arranged for me to see the doctor in the morning.
I knew it was bad. I could feel it as I slid into bed, raw and achy and utterly exhausted.
“Try to get some sleep,” my father said as he came into my room, and there was no sign of the contempt I saw in him earlier.
“Did you see anything when you looked at the freezer door?” I asked.
“No.” He sat on the side of the bed and looked down at me. “I pushed it open. It clicked like they said it would, and it stayed open.”
“Then why did it close on me?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Do you think someone closed it by mistake, not knowing I was in there?”
“I don’t know, Candy.”
I licked my dry lips. “Do you think someone locked me in there on purpose?” The truth was I couldn’t imagine Sam, Stephen, or Carol purposely locking me in there. If someone wanted to play a joke, they might close the door for a minute or two to scare me, but locking me in there for twenty minutes? No one in their right mind would think that was funny.
“Why would someone do that?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” I fingered a loose thread on my comforter.
“Whatever happened, it won’t happen again since you’re not going back.” Shifting to face me more fully, he said, “That boy who was sitting with you when I got there, is he the new kid in school you mentioned?”
“Jonah.” I nodded.
“He seemed very concerned about you.”
It was a statement but his expression was expectant, as though it had been a question.
“He felt guilty. He blames himself for what happened because he got me the job there, which is ridiculous. It wasn’t his fault.”
My father cocked his head at that, but said nothing as he patted my knee. “Go to sleep, little one. We’ll see Dr. Fox in the morning. He’s coming in on a Sunday just for you.”
“Yay,” I cheered dully. I got to ruin his weekend too.
My father shook his head at me with a patient half smile on his face before closing my bedroom door.
After he’d gone, I turned onto my side and burrowed under the blankets. I didn’t want to think about the freezer, so instead I thought of Jonah and how he’d carried me out of there, holding me in his arms like some kind of hero, angry at everyone on my behalf and acting so protective.
Closing my eyes, I recalled how his abs felt beneath my hands as my fingers warmed against his skin. I recalled the ridges of hard muscle pressed against me, and I wondered how much better he would have felt if my hands were normal. Of course, that would happen to me. I finally got to touch Jonah Bryson’s body, and I could hardly feel a thing. I nearly laughed at the irony.
But still, the memory of his arms around me and the fierce look on his face helped chase away the more disturbing images. Instead of picturing that freezer door closing on me, I imagined his hazel eyes, recalling how filled with worry they were for me.
My new phone vibrated on the nightstand beside me. I glanced at the screen and saw Jonah’s number. He’d sent me a text. I grabbed the phone awkwardly with my bandaged fingers.
Jonah: Can I stop by?
After I saw the doctor this morning, my father took me to pick up my prescription and buy a new phone before getting me settled back in my room and going into his office to work. Holding the phone awkwardly, it took me forever, but I texted him back that it was okay, and ten minutes later the doorbell rang.
I got up and my father met me at the door. “Expecting someone?”
“It’s Jonah.”
He hesitated a moment before saying “All right” and disappearing back down the hallway.
When I pulled open the door, Jonah was standing there, looking gorgeous as always in faded jeans and a brown sweater that brought out the same color in his eyes. But now that I looked closer, I noticed those eyes were sunken and looked weary.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his gaze going directly to my hands and widening comically.
I couldn’t blame him. The thick white bandages wrapped around the entire length of the index and middle fingers on both my hands seemed ridiculous and out of proportion with my injuries. The dressings were like beacons calling unwanted attention to my hands.
Sighing, I said, “My dream of becoming a hand model is over.”
He looked surprised. “You’re making jokes?”
I shrugged, taking a step back and opening the door wider so he could come inside.
“Is your dad home?” he asked.
“Where else would he be? After you nearly freeze your fingers off, you need constant supervision.” My father probably had other things to do today, but he was staying home with me instead.
“I’m starting to get it.” Jonah nodded at me as he walked past me. “You make jokes when you’re upset.”
Smirking, I shrugged. “It’s a coping mechanism.”
His lips twitched into a reluctant smile as he stood there watching me so intently that I averted my eyes, busying myself with closing the door. It was as though he was trying to see inside me, to figure out how I was really feeling.
When I met his eyes again, he said, “Tell me how your hands are.” He appeared apprehensive as he waited for my answer.
Releasing a shaky breath, I moved past him and walked into the living room to sit on the couch. He followed, lowering himself down beside me.
“I saw the doctor this morning. Everything is fine except for these.” I looked down at my four bandaged fingers resting on my lap. “Frostbite,” I stated. “Second degree. I have to keep them dry and take antibiotics to prevent infection. These huge bandages have to stay on another day or two, and then I can just use regular Band-Aids to keep them covered.”
The skin around Jonah’s eyes tightened. “Will they get better?”
“It’s wait and see right now, but the doctor thinks so. He may have to cut away some of the tissue, but he said it’s too early to make that call.” I related it all calmly, just like the doctor had, but I was terrified that they wouldn’t get better.
“Do they hurt?”
I wiggled them. “No. They’re still numb. But you shouldn’t ask me to hold anything valuable for a while.”
He still watched me closely. “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”
My brows arched up and my cheeks grew hot. I glanced away, trying to hide my embarrassment. For some reason, it was easier to hear my father practically call me a nitwit. It was easier to believe too.
Jonah smiled and scratched his cheek self-consciously. As confident as he always seemed, right now I sensed nervousness coming from him. Was I making him nervous?
He took a shallow breath and asked, “Will you be in school tomorrow?”
I lifted a shoulder because I didn’t know. My father said it was up to me. Taking notes in class would be impossible, but spending the day alone in my room didn’t sound appealing.
�
�Skip with me.” He shot me a playful grin. “There’s this place I want to take you to.”
My brows peaked again. “Why would you skip? You’re not sick.”
“How do you know? Are you a doctor?” He coughed dryly into his hand.
Smiling, I asked, “So, what is this place?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Another surprise place? Like auto shop?” Normally, I didn’t like surprises, but if anyone could change my mind, it was Jonah.
“No, not like that. Better. At least, I hope so.”
“Better?” I mused skeptically, thinking about the kiss we shared there.
When he blinked and licked his lips, I wondered if he was thinking about that kiss too. Our gazes locked, and then we both heard the muffled sound of my father’s voice coming from his office down the hall as he spoke on the phone.
With a rueful shake of his head, Jonah seemed to gather himself for a moment before he stood and started toward the door. “I’d better go. Will tomorrow be okay with your dad?”
I nodded, but I didn’t really know.
“I’ll text you in the morning to firm things up.”
“Okay.”
Before he left, he stopped in the doorway and turned to face me. Leaning down, he kissed my cheek while his other hand came up to gently hold my face, his thumb brushing back and forth over my skin. “Call me if you need anything,” he said, eyeing my hands again before walking to his car.
My cheek tingled where his lips had touched it. The tenderness he showed me bloomed like a flower over the fear and unease left over from yesterday, making them shrink beneath its shadow.
After Jonah left, I found my father still in his office. He was bent over his desk, staring at his laptop screen. “I might not be up to making dinner,” I said.
“We’ll order something in,” he replied without looking up at me.
“I decided not to go to school tomorrow. I’m going to go somewhere with Jonah instead.”
I waited for his reaction. Lying to him wasn’t an option. If I said I’d be in school and I wasn’t, he’d find out eventually.
Slowly his gaze rose up to meet mine. “If you’re not going to school, you should stay home and rest.”
“Resting won’t help.”
Sitting back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest and studied me. “You like him.”
Without hesitation, I nodded.
He watched me for a beat, seeming to consider this. “One free day tomorrow and then back to school on Tuesday.”
“Okay. Thanks.” After flashing him a grateful smile, I went to my room and paused just inside the doorway, not sure what to do. I couldn’t type or text, and I was too restless to read or watch television. Since yesterday, my thoughts had been in constant motion and I needed to ease the tension, but the way I would normally do that wasn’t an option.
Turning around, I went into the kitchen, picked up my mother’s recipe book from the counter, and sat down at the table with it. If I couldn’t bake or cook anything, maybe looking through the book would help me relax.
Rubbing the back of my hand over the worn cover, I stared at my bandages and thought about a time when this kitchen wasn’t so perfectly clean and quiet. It used to be filled with warmth and laughter. My mother loved to laugh almost as much as she loved cooking.
While most everyone was intimidated by my father, she easily broke through his hard shell. Sometimes when he came home from work, she’d turn up the radio and grab a hold of him, making him dance with her. Once she sprayed him with the kitchen faucet when he was acting too grumpy. After the shock wore off, he chased her down and stopped her giggling by planting a kiss on her.
My father was a different person with her. The love he had for my mother was always shining in his eyes, and I wondered if anyone would ever love me that way. Would anyone ever look at me like I was their whole world? It was hard to even imagine.
Putting the recipe book away, I wished I could talk to my mother now. I wondered what she’d say about Jonah and what kind of dating advice she’d have. What would she think of how strained the situation had become with my father? Would she think it was his fault or mine? I was sure she’d tell me to have patience with him.
She used to say that no matter what my father did outside the walls of our house, he loved us. We owned his heart. But sometimes I think she owned it, and she took it with her when she left.
***
Theo: The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph.
I wasn’t sure why, but I was nervous to ask my father to wash my hair. I could put plastic bags over my hands and shower well enough, but washing my hair was impossible, at least until I could take the bandages off.
Jonah had texted this morning to confirm our plans. He would be here in an hour to pick me up and take me to some mysterious place. We lived in Glenn Valley, so other than the mall and the multiplex, there wasn’t anyplace interesting to go, not that those places were at all interesting. To say my curiosity was piqued would be an understatement. But whatever our destination, I wanted clean hair in case Jonah got close enough to smell it.
My father was coming out of his bedroom when he saw me standing in the hallway with the bottle of shampoo in my hand. He looked at my face and then the bottle. “Need some help?”
We used the kitchen sink with its spray nozzle, and I leaned forward over it. It was a strange sensation, having my father’s hands in my hair. His touch was firm, scrubbing against my scalp. But I was on edge in the silence, hearing only the sound of the water splashing into the basin. The experience didn’t last long because my father was nothing if not efficient. He finished quickly, squeezing out the excess water before handing me the towel.
“Thanks,” I said, and he nodded distractedly before walking away.
After the other day, I supposed I was looking for some sign that he didn’t think I was a complete dunce. Not only wasn’t he giving it to me, but he was back to his usual brusqueness. I felt the perceived rejection acutely, even though I knew better. He was never affectionate, but when I found myself needing more from him, it was harder to accept who he was. Trying to excuse his cold demeanor created an unwelcome burn of resentment in my chest.
I ignored the feeling as I dried my hair and purposely pointed my thoughts in a different direction. Although drying my hair was easier than washing it, I couldn’t grip the brush well enough to tame the waves. So I used hairspray to keep it out of my face and decided to just go with it.
I’d been watching for Jonah’s Jeep when an unfamiliar SUV pulled into the driveway. Jonah stepped out of it, and I called good-bye to my father, pulling on my coat and gloves before I went to meet him outside.
“Morning,” Jonah said, stopping on his way up the walkway.
“Where’s the Jeep?”
“I thought it might be too cold for you. I switched cars with my father today.”
“Oh.” It was so thoughtful, I hardly knew what to say.
“Ready to go?” he asked. “We’ve got an hour’s drive ahead of us.”
“An hour? Can’t you tell me where we’re going?” I tried to think of places that were an hour away.
Jonah shook his head. “Do I need to explain to you what a surprise is?”
“No, but you could explain why people like surprises.”
“Relax. People like surprises because they’re generally good things.” Jonah opened the passenger door and closed it behind me once I was inside.
When Jonah got on the highway and headed west, I noticed he was taking us even farther away from civilization than we already were, and there was nothing to do but sit back and enjoy the ride. Jonah turned on the radio, and a familiar Foo Fighters song played.
“You must have told your father the truth about your plans for the day if he let you borrow his car,” I said.
Jonah rested his hand on the wheel and glanced at me. “Skipping once in a while isn’t a big deal to him.”
“Mine e
ither.”
It was another cool move by his motorcycle-riding, locker-combination-stealing dad.
“I heard Parker was spouting a bunch of crap at lunch the other day,” Jonah said, completely out of the blue.
I turned to look at him, having nearly forgotten about his trip and Parker’s claims that Heather had gone with him. It all seemed so silly now. “How is that different from any other day?” I asked.
He made a sound of agreement. “But this time she was telling lies about me. Something about Heather coming on the trip to Cleveland, which she didn’t, by the way.”
“No?” I asked casually, realizing that it no longer mattered because I’d begun to trust Jonah. I supposed it started when he carried me out of that freezer, looking so scared for me, as if the idea of my being hurt was too much to take.
“Definitely not, and I would hate for Parker’s lies to influence anyone’s opinion of me in a negative way.”
I turned to find him watching me, somehow understanding me well enough to know that Parker had done exactly that. It was why I’d greeted him so stiffly at the diner. I’d been scared to trust him and so I latched onto any excuse not to. But I was done with that.
“You’re right. No one should believe anything she says.” I smiled reassuringly at him, hoping he understood me.
For the rest of the drive, our conversation jumped from topic to topic as we chatted about music, discovering we had similar tastes, but when it came to television and movies, we were polar opposites. I loved reality shows, and he thought they signaled the end of western civilization. I’d seen every iconic teen movie to come out of the ’80s, and he had no idea who Jake Ryan or Sodapop Curtis were.
I was so caught up in our friendly little argument that I hardly paid attention to where we were going, too busy claiming that Michael Schoeffling, the guy who played Kuch in Vision Quest and Jake in Sixteen Candles (yes, I looked up his name after Theo went home) needed his own reality show, as did every icon from the ’80s who fell off the face of the earth.