Just Physical

by Jae

  She hadn’t noticed before. For once, she had skipped her morning routine of checking her body for symptoms before getting up, her thoughts only on Crash and their relationship. Relationship? That familiar voice in her mind returned. You really thought you could have a relationship? You can’t even get off the damn floor! Instead of striding into the bathroom to make love to Crash in the warm shower, she was lying naked on the cold floor, staring at the dust bunnies under the sofa bed and trying in vain to get up. How could she expect Crash to deal with this if not even she could? It had been stupid to believe that a future with Crash was possible. Her hope of having just a mild form of MS had shattered like a fragile piece of glass.

  Grief and anger flooded her. She held on to the latter, using it to power herself up.

  Just as she was dragging herself onto the sofa bed, the bathroom door opened and Crash stepped out. “Hey, good morning. Do you want—? Jill! What’s wrong?” Crash rushed over and helped her settle more fully onto the edge of the sofa bed.

  “Nothing,” Jill mumbled.

  “Did you fall?” Crash sank to her knees next to her and ran her hands over Jill’s legs, from her ankles to her thighs.

  Under different circumstances, Jill would have enjoyed the gentle touches, but now she barely even felt them on her left side. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment at having Crash see her like this. “I’m fine.” She tried to pull the covers around herself, but Crash tugged it back down.

  “You’re bleeding,” Crash said, her face gone pale. She pointed at Jill’s arm.

  Jill craned her neck and discovered a bleeding scrape on her elbow.

  Crash jumped up, ran to the bathroom, and returned with a first-aid kit.

  Jill held still while Crash pressed a clean piece of gauze against the scrape to stop the bleeding and then put a Band-Aid over it. As long as Crash was focused on her elbow, she at least wouldn’t question her about why she had fallen.

  Finally, Crash took her hands away and regarded her with a concerned gaze. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  “No. I don’t think so.” The tender area on her right hip wasn’t worth mentioning. It was probably just a bruise, and there was nothing Crash could do about it.

  Crash frowned. “Did you fall out of bed?”

  “Something like that,” Jill mumbled.

  “Jill…”

  She sighed. Trying to hide it was stupid. She wouldn’t even make it to the car on her own. The thought made her grit her teeth. “I can’t walk,” she said, keeping her voice low, almost to a whisper. “My left leg is completely out of order, and the right one,” she poked it repeatedly, “doesn’t feel quite normal either.”

  Her lips compressed to a razor-sharp line, Crash reached for the cell phone on the coffee table.

  “What are you doing?” Jill asked.

  “I’m calling an ambulance.”

  “No!” Jill reached for her arm and held on to it. “No ambulance.”

  “But if your leg is numb, you can’t even tell if you hurt yourself.”

  Jill shook her head. “I would be able to tell, believe me.”

  “Still.” Crash didn’t let go of the phone. “If this is a relapse, you need—”

  “We don’t know if it is. Maybe I just got overheated.” She forced a smile. “Last night was pretty hot.” She hoped that was it, but she had a feeling this was something else. Her leg at times felt weak or numb, but she had always been able to walk, even if it was with a limp.

  Crash gave her a doubtful glance. “What if it’s more than a little flare-up?”

  “I don’t know. Guess I’ll know by tomorrow.” Jill marveled at how she could sound so calm. Her head was spinning. How had everything gone to hell in a hand basket so fast? Just a few hours ago, she’d been so happy and hopeful for the future, and now…

  Crash plopped down on the couch next to her and wrapped her arms around Jill, who squeezed her eyes shut to stop the tears burning in them from leaking out.

  She hadn’t had a relapse for so long that she’d started to hope that she was one of the lucky few who, after an initial exacerbation or two, remained stable for decades, living a normal life. Now the cruel reality had slapped her in the face. Who knew how many more relapses would be coming? She wouldn’t allow Crash to live through them with her.

  “What do you need me to do?” Crash asked.

  Jill pulled back, out of the embrace. This was her battle to fight, not Crash’s. “Could you drive me home?”

  A wrinkle formed between Crash’s brows. “Home? You need go to the ER or be seen by a—”

  “This isn’t an emergency, Crash,” Jill said, trying to be patient with her and not let herself be affected by Crash’s sense of urgency. This was scary enough as it was. “Very few things that happen with MS are. The doctors won’t even call it a relapse unless it lasts for more than twenty-four hours. If I’m not doing better by tomorrow morning, I’ll call my neurologist.”

  Crash regarded her with a concerned gaze, clearly not liking what she heard. “And how will you get around until then if you can’t walk?”

  “I have a cane at home.”

  “Jill, you can’t navigate the stairs with—”

  “I’ll sleep downstairs on the couch,” Jill said. “I’ll manage.”

  “You? You will manage?” Crash asked, hurt in her voice and her eyes. “What happened to we?”

  There was no we; there couldn’t be. She never should have given Crash—and herself—false hope. Now it hurt even more to recognize the truth that she should have stuck to all along. She didn’t have the strength to tell Crash. “Let’s talk about it later. I need to focus on this,” she waved at her useless left leg, “right now.”

  “Sounds like you made up your mind already,” Crash mumbled.

  “Please, let it go. I can’t fight this relapse—or whatever it is—and you. Please just take me home.”

  The muscles in Crash’s strong jaw bunched. “I don’t like this at all.”

  “Crash, please. I don’t have the energy for long discussions.”

  Crash inhaled and exhaled, but her tense posture didn’t relax. Finally, she nodded. “All right. Let’s get you dressed and get you home, where you can be more comfortable.”

  Needing help to put on her pants and button her blouse drove home the fact that Crash might end up her caregiver if Jill didn’t break things off.

  As Jill powered herself up from the sofa bed, her right leg felt a bit more steady, but the left one was still as numb as a piece of wood. A new wave of anger and despair gripped her. She resolutely pushed back the rising panic. You’ll figure it out as you go. You always have, and this isn’t any different.

  Crash wrapped one arm around her, steadying her.

  With Crash supporting some of her weight on the left side, Jill wobbled to the door and allowed herself a quick glance over her shoulder at the unmade sofa bed she had shared with Crash, knowing she’d never be back. Her fall had made it more than clear: It had been crazy to let herself hope for a life with Crash. There was no future of any kind for them.

  After a tense drive to Glendale, Crash helped Jill into the house and to the living room.

  “Where’s Tramp?” Crash asked, looking around for the labradoodle.

  “I dropped him off with Susana before going to the wrap party yesterday,” Jill said.

  God, had that really just been yesterday? Crash mentally shook her head. It felt a million years ago. She’d been so happy last night, but now the door that had cracked open had slammed into her face again. With the physical exacerbation, it seemed Jill had also relapsed into her old kind of thinking.

  She helped her settle on the couch and then stood there, looking down at her. Her hands felt strangely empty now that she wasn’t holding on to Jill. She rubbed them on her jeans. “Do you need anything?”

>   “No, thanks.”

  A sudden idea pierced Crash’s helplessness. “What about your medication? Could it alleviate your symptoms?”

  Jill shook her head. “I’ll inject myself later, but it’s a long-term medication. It won’t have any influence on acute relapses.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Rarely before had she felt so stupid and helpless. She looked around for something else she could do. “Do you want me to pick up Tramp?”

  “No, thanks. Susana will be by later and bring him with her,” Jill said.

  “What about your car?” It was probably still parked near the club where the wrap party had been held. “I could get it for you.”

  “How would you do that? You’re just one person and can’t drive two cars at the same time.”

  “I could call TJ and—”

  Jill shook her head. “That’s not necessary. I’m sure Susana and her husband would be happy to get it.”

  Crash pressed her lips together and said nothing, but she was seething inside, the anger, frustration, and hurt eating away at her. Why couldn’t Jill just let her help? This damn relapse wasn’t her fault, so why was she being pushed away?

  But she couldn’t start a fight right now; it would only deplete Jill’s energy.

  She looked down at her, taking in the pale face, the way Jill unconsciously cradled her left leg with both hands, and the stubborn tilt of her head. Behind that thin layer of stubbornness and strength, she could sense Jill’s fear. If she pushed just a little, Jill might break down. I can’t do that to her. Not now, when Jill needed her strength to fight the relapse.

  “All right,” she said. “What time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow, assuming the neurologist can squeeze you in somewhere?”

  “No, Crash. You’ve got your audition with the Engine 27 stunt coordinator tomorrow morning, remember?”

  Crash had indeed forgotten about that. “To hell with the audition. I’ll pick you up. Better yet, I’ll stay and—”

  “No.” Jill’s tone was final. More softly, she added, “Go home and rest or do whatever you need to do to prepare for the audition. One of us being in this mess is bad enough. If you lost that job because of me…” She shook her head. “I’ll get Grace or Lauren to take me.”

  Crash hesitated. “Promise? You won’t do something crazy and try to go by yourself?”

  “Promise,” Jill said. “Don’t worry about me, okay?”

  Yeah, that’s easy. Just open my chest and rip my heart out. Crash made a face.

  “You can leave, really.”

  “Oh, no. I’m not leaving. What if you need the bathroom or something?”

  Jill sighed. “Okay. I’ll call Grace and have her come over to help me.”

  Crash took the phone from the coffee table and pressed it into Jill’s hand. “Call her now.”

  “What? Don’t you believe me?”

  “I know you, Jill Corrigan.”

  Averting her gaze, Jill pressed an icon on her smartphone and lifted the phone to her ear. When she ended the call a few minutes later, she gave Crash a nod. “She’s on her way. Happy now?”

  “Happy? No.” How could she be happy while Jill was going through a relapse—and instead of letting her help, she was calling over her best friend? That hurt more than she could say, but she didn’t want to make this about herself. “I’m glad you won’t be alone. I’ll be going, then.” She waited, hoping Jill would change her mind but knowing she wouldn’t.

  And she didn’t. She just nodded.

  “Jill…” She took one step forward, toward the couch, then stopped when Jill stiffened. “What I said yesterday about wanting a life with you… That didn’t change. I still want that, and I’ll be there for you every step of the way. You can call me any time, for anything. I mean it. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night. Call me, okay?”

  Jill nodded again, but Crash knew she wouldn’t call. Something had changed inside of Jill.

  Dammit. This was ridiculous. Now they were caught in the old, frustrating pattern. She didn’t know if she had the strength to get through to Jill a second time. She wanted to hit something—or at least grab Jill and shake some sense into her—but of course she didn’t. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she walked to the door, where she turned and glanced back.

  “Thank you, Crash,” Jill said softly. “For everything.”

  “Anytime. You’re not in this alone, okay?” Their gazes connected, and Crash stood in the doorway for several seconds before finally tearing herself away and walking out.

  The door closing behind her sounded overly loud. It felt wrong. So wrong. Crash turned around and stared at the damn door before slowly making her way to her car.

  Instead of starting the engine and driving off, she sat behind the wheel and waited for Grace to arrive.

  Either Grace hadn’t been up at the cottage, or she’d broken every traffic law on her way to Jill’s home, because forty minutes later, the gate swung open and Grace’s red SUV passed through.

  Crash gave a short wave and drove off, her hands clenched around the steering wheel.

  CHAPTER 23

  On Monday, Jill’s left leg was still numb like a log. Her neurologist declared it a relapse and sent her over to the infusion center for a more aggressive treatment.

  The nurse who greeted them at the door gave Grace an inviting smile. “You’re welcome to accompany Ms. Corrigan inside. We allow first-timers to bring a friend, spouse, or family member.”

  Jill was beginning to feel like a first-grader clinging to the hand of her mother on the first day of school, and she didn’t want that dependency.

  “What do you think, Jill?” Grace asked. “I’d be happy to go in with you.”

  Jill looked up at Grace from the wheelchair that her neurologist had lent them to navigate the hall from his office to the infusion center. She opened her mouth to tell her she could leave but then hesitated. Truth be told, she didn’t look forward to what would happen in the sterile-looking room. While she didn’t want Crash to have to live through everything with her twenty-four/seven, letting a friend help was different. At the end of the treatment, Grace would get to go home to her own life—a life without MS. Unfortunately, Grace wasn’t just her friend; she was also a famous actress.

  “I don’t know,” Jill said. “I don’t want to cause a stampede, with all of the patients dragging their IV bags across the room to get your autograph.”

  “Autograph?” The nurse looked from Jill to Grace. Her eyes widened, and she looked as if she were about to fall to her knees and worship Grace. “Oh my God. You’re Grace Durand, aren’t you?”

  In moments like this, Jill was glad that she’d worn a blonde wig while she’d starred in Coffee to Go. Few people ever recognized her. “See?” She gave Grace a gentle push. “It’s better if you go. I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. Go.”

  Grace sighed and glanced at the nurse, who was still staring at her. “Can you give her something for her stubbornness too?”

  The nurse grinned and finally shook off that starstruck look. “They haven’t found a cure for that yet, but if they do, I’ll make sure she gets a dose.”

  Great. The first treatment of her three-day course of corticosteroids hadn’t even started, and they were already talking about her as if she weren’t sitting right next to them.

  “We have a waiting room,” the nurse said. “It’s empty right now. If you want, you can wait there. The infusion will take about two hours. We like a slower drip rate so our patients don’t get a headache.”

  Grace nodded. “I’ll be in the waiting room, then.”

  Jill wanted to protest and tell her she had more important things to do. Grace would fly to Ireland tomorrow to shoot on location for an entire month, and she probably hadn’t packed yet. But Jil
l had promised herself to make better use of her support system and not waste so much energy trying to take on the world alone, so she gave in and nodded.

  The nurse pointed Grace toward the waiting room and stared after her. “Wow. Grace Durand in our infusion center. Wow!”

  Yeah, and she’ll be in the infusion center a lot longer if you just stand there without getting me my treatment! Jill bit back the comment, not wanting to take out her bad mood on the nurse.

  Finally, the nurse turned toward her and pushed Jill’s wheelchair into the treatment room.

  Eight lounge chairs were placed along two walls, separated by privacy curtains. Most of them were open, so Jill could make out several other patients, already hooked up to IV lines. None of them looked sick, but then again, neither did she—yet here she was, about to get one thousand milligrams of Solu-Medrol pumped into her veins. Most of the patients had brought books or their e-readers, and some were chatting with other patients across the space between their reclining chairs, catching each other up on what had happened in their lives since they had last seen each other.

  Obviously, they were all veterans at this IV thing.

  Jill wasn’t. The two attacks she’d had so far hadn’t been treated with steroids. Well, first time for everything. Let’s get this over with. As soon as the nurse stopped in front of a free chair, Jill hobbled over to it on one leg, ignoring the curious gazes of her fellow patients, and sank into the recliner. She tried to relax as the nurse took her blood pressure and prepared the infusion.

  The nurse searched for a good vein in the back of Jill’s left hand.

  Wanting to face the harsh realities that came with her MS, Jill forced herself not to look away as the needle went in.

  “Okay, it’s in.” The nurse pulled back the needle, making Jill breathe a sigh of relief.

  That hadn’t been too bad.

  The nurse taped down the catheter, hung the bag on the IV pole, connected the tube, and started the infusion. She patted Jill’s arm—the one without the catheter—and gave her a motherly nod. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to check your blood pressure again. Do you need anything else?”