by Pamela Ann
The kinesiology tape had helped the day prior, but on the second day, the effect had lessened. It wasn’t the product’s fault but mine since I was giving it quite a work out, or maybe I had applied it wrong. For such a little piece of my anatomy, I hadn’t realized its importance until it was hurt.
“You look like you’re about to faint.” Jackson greeted me as he came out of his room while I flung myself on the nearest couch, exhausted beyond wonder.
My stomach was growling in protest, but I couldn’t seem to gather enough strength to limp my way into the kitchen and scour for food.
“I hurt my toe the other night, and it’s been giving me hell since.”
“Sheesh, Chloe, you seriously need to be careful.” Jacks came to join me in the living room, taking the opposing sofa facing me with a worried look on his face. “We’re leaving for Miami tomorrow. It’s a day earlier than planned, but what the heck? We might as well. The first week of classes weren’t that important, anyway. If you need me to stay, though, I will. I don’t mind either way since we haven’t really hung out since you got here.”
That was thoughtful of him to offer, but I didn’t need for him to halt his life to take care of me. He made it sound as if I were dying when, good grief, it was just an injured toe. An excruciating dilemma, but something I could very well tackle all by myself.
“Go and party for the both of us, Jacks. I don’t need a babysitter. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m all grown up. Thank but no thanks.”
He sent me a thoughtful smile. “I know you’re all grown and stuff, but you’re still my baby sister. Nothing will ever change that, little booger.”
Jackson was being sentimental, and I couldn’t help feeling this overwhelming over-protectiveness kick in out of nowhere. “Jacks, I know it’s none of my business, but aren’t you spending quite a lot of time with Yvonne and partying instead of school?”
“I know, but I just need to sort some stuff out.” He let out a tired sigh before leaning back against the cushion and shutting his eyes. “Yvonne’s great, but I’m not in love with her if that’s what you’re trying to get at. I’m just in a limbo, working on it.”
My brother sounded so lost. I wanted to reach out to him and give him a reassuring hug.
“I was told you go to Columbia; is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Care to tell me why?” It was a plea as much as it was a question.
“Drew had his future already mapped out. He had it all figured out. I thought, if I went to the same school, it would follow through for me, but it didn’t, Chlo. Each time I think about our life in Newport Beach, I always imagine that my life would be like theirs, and I don’t want that meaningless life, but I don’t know how to get where I need to be.”
He had never shared anything like this with me. It was bewildering to see him in such a state and feeling so helpless, and I couldn’t help him fix the root of his problem. He alone had to figure this out. It was up to him to see it through and never give up on his dreams, whatever they might be. Still, I had to know what was going on, and maybe talking about it would help him figure things out a bit.
“Is there something that’s holding you back?” I asked softly, hoping he would let me pick his brain a while until he shut himself off again.
“Have you ever hated someone so much you didn’t realize that, underneath all that hate, there’s love?”
I suddenly felt alarmed. Was he talking about me … or him? Then I realized he was speaking for himself after I saw his baffled expression.
“Is this about a woman? Is it Yvonne? Or someone else perhaps? Is it someone I know?” My unending string of queries most likely pressured him more, but I did it out of love … and curiosity. Who was the woman who affected him so much it had made him lose his way? It was damaging him, and if this kept on, what if it became too late to fix anything?
“It’s all bullshit. I don’t feel like talking about all of that.” He stood up and softly placed a kiss on my forehead. “I’ve gotta pack. I love you, Chlo. I know I don’t seem it, but I’m happy you’re here.”
“I love you, too, Jacks,” I murmured, watching him stroll back to his bedroom.
That last bit—that small exchange—made me somewhat tearful. Jackson was obviously going through an upheaval, and it was something huge. Call it growing pains or what of it, but it was affecting him more than he cared to admit. Worried would be an understatement.
It was beyond aggravating to see someone you love going through something life-altering when there was nothing to be done other than simply being there for them and praying the hurdle would soon pass.
Obviously, whomever this unknown person was, it surely wasn’t Yvonne. So who was it? Apart from her, I hadn’t seen him hang out with a female counterpart. I would have known if the woman tormenting him were from back home, so it had to have happened here. Whomever that woman might be, if I ever found out her identity, I would definitely give her a piece of my mind, and it sure as heck wouldn’t be black or white; it would be oh so colorful she would be blinded by it.
With a dejected sigh, I began to gather my bearings and move toward the kitchen. Since Jackson was preoccupied with tomorrow’s trip and packing his things, I didn’t want to intrude by asking him if he wanted dinner. He seemed as though he needed space to breathe.
I rummaged in the fridge for something light to stave off hunger. Quite honestly, after the long day, all I wanted was a long bath and some deep sleep.
Not willing to prolong my agony and with little selection to choose from, it wasn’t a hardship to pluck a small bottle of chocolate milk before I limped back toward my room to unwind, reflect, and reassess today’s events.
There was quite a lot to ponder.
With Jackson gone over the weekend and with Drew avoiding coming home, it looked like I would be spending it all by myself. This was a predicament I hadn’t expected. My current situation hadn’t ignited any new and promising friendships in the two days I had attended classes, so I supposed I would just go through Netflix until boredom settled in.
Chapter Eight
Boarding now. Told Drew to check on you, so don’t get annoyed. Try not to party too hard while I’m away. Be safe. Love you, booger.
Jackson’s text made me sigh while I was in the middle of class. I appreciated that he had contacted Drew, even though they weren’t in such a good place with their friendship. They had always been that way—if they had a row, they always put their differences aside if there was something more important to be dealt with. Hopefully, they would find a way to mend things before this dragged on and the problem became too big, the gap too wide to bridge.
It was past six when I emerged from school. Like any normal student, I immediately delved straight into my phone, scrolling through text messages from Mom, Courtney, and one from Spencer.
Ignoring the rest, I began to write my best friend back since she had updated me about her new life in San Diego. She and I had been stuck like glue for as long as I could remember and were experiencing college differently.
In the middle of typing my reply about her taking time off to visit me, some random guy ran past me, bulldozing his way as he fiercely pushed me to the side, making me lose my balance and land on the side of the pavement. I didn’t even get the chance to huff in air before I felt my ankle twist completely, making me stumble and unceremoniously collapse on my ass.
“Sweetie, are you okay?” A frail, old black woman came to my rescue, frowning down at me with a concerned look on her face.
“I—” I dragged my eyes away from her before gazing down at my unfortunate situation. The agonizing pain in my foot had skyrocketed to new heights. Add in the shock, and I was a breath away from a panic attack. “My foot … it’s … I don’t think I can move it,” I choked out.
The woman didn’t even bat an eyelash before taking charge and calling 911 while the rest of the traffic carried on without barely glancing at me. Everyone was in a rush because most b
elieved that time was money and being a good Samaritan would seriously cost too much time, effort, and maybe a little heart, which was a foreign word here, it seemed. I wondered, if I had worn a skirt, would it have been different. I wouldn’t ponder anymore because this wouldn’t happen again, not if I could help it. If this did ever happen again and some random guy shoved me to the side because he had to get somewhere in a heartbeat, I would chase him until he apologize like a true gentleman. A stretch to some, but hell, where were the fucking manners?
“They’re on their way,” the kind woman informed me with soulful eyes. “Can I assist you to sit on the pavement until they get here? My back isn’t in the best of conditions, but my determination will get us there.”
“Oh, no. No, you’ve done enough for me by calling for help. Thank you, but hurting you while you help me wouldn’t either of us any good.” I gave the best smile I could muster. I was holding on by a very loose thread. “But could you do me one favor? Do you mind picking up my phone? It’s a few steps behind you.” My eyes landed on the cracked screen, and I felt my heart falter.
She immediately went to pick it up and then handed it to me. She introduced herself as Evelyn. She had been on her way to Bingo night when she had seen me being pushed like garbage to the side. She stayed with me until the paramedics arrived, inspected me, and placed me on the stretcher. But before they carted me away, I made sure to get her number and address because I had to thank her somehow. Had it not been for her, God knew I would have crawled, pushing on my elbows to simply fetch my phone to call for help.
The paramedics busied themselves with asking me questions ranging from the incident to the level of pain I was in, and I couldn’t help feeling relief when they injected me with some powerful drug to numb the pain.
Upon reaching the hospital, I was unloaded in the Emergency Room before a proper doctor came to see me and addressed my wound without a hitch. After getting X-rays and a thorough examination, he had to place my entire foot in a boot since there was an injury in one of the ligaments that supported the joint, a stage two sprain. It could take four to six weeks to heal, depending on how my body responded to medicine and therapy.
“Is there someone we can call to pick you up, Miss Armstrong?” the nurse asked me after the doctor had signed the discharge papers before being paged to the trauma unit.
Jackson wasn’t here, so I had to rely on someone else. “Yeah, there actually is.” Clearing my throat, I scrolled through my contact list with the newly cracked screen then showed the nurse his phone number.
She left me to make the call while I filled out the paperwork and what not. The chaotic madness in the ER made me even more anxious. The sound of the sick and the dying wasn’t any comfort. It was a major contrast to the world outside these walls.
While the other side fought the stock market and brokers, in here, mortals fought to survive. And when I overheard that an ambulance was coming in with survivors from a tragic head-on collision, it made me realize how small and irrelevant my problems were. My toe and ankle seemed pathetically laughable at the thought of what others were dealing with here tonight.
“Chloe?” Drew’s alarmed voice appeared out of the blue as he finally found which section of the room where I was located. The moment his eyes rested upon me, they imminently widened. “Christ, Chloe, what happened? Are you okay?”
“Sorry, the nurse made me bug you. I wouldn’t have bothered, but they wouldn’t discharge me if I didn’t have someone to care for me in the next twenty-four hours. You, my friend, are the chosen one.”
He shook his head, solemn. “You should know better than to hesitate to call me. I’m always here for you. Always. Why can’t you understand that?”
Because so much has happened between us that it’s gotten so awkward, and nothing’s been the same since.
As much as I wanted to state how I felt, this wasn’t the time or the place.
“Drew Cavendish?” The nurse came back before systematically eyeing him, as if he were a good specimen to be studied. There was a blatant glimmer of interest before she reverted back to business, clearing her throat as she did. “She was given Percocet, but the doctor prescribed a lesser dose for her to take home. Make sure she takes these with a meal and a full glass of water.” She pulled out a paper that outlined how to care for my foot and how to gauge my pain and knowing when to call for help.
By the time he helped me into a cab with the use of a crutch, my body was in such an elevated state euphoria and sleepiness that I was going in and out of consciousness.
“Let me carry you upstairs,” Drew kindly offered after the cab dropped us outside the apartment building.
“Over my dead fucking body. I am capable of walking.” Albeit, I would be slower than usual, but I could very well function. The less contact with him, the better. I might have bruised my ankle, but I surely hadn’t lost my mind… yet. While that was still thriving and intact, I would rather not depend on him for anything. It was the only way I could keep him at bay.
Our journey from the entrance of the building to the 8th floor was done at a snail’s pace, but I was adamant to stand my ground, undoubtedly quite high from the drugs given to me.
“Did you have anything to eat?” he asked the moment we entered the door, regarding me rather too closely for comfort.
Acting unaffected by his presence, I merely shook my head before releasing a casual sigh. “I had a sandwich for lunch.”
“That’s it?” He glared at me, obviously displeased that I had been able to function by supplying my body with a mere sandwich.
“Yeah.” Why was he so appalled? Not only was a sandwich convenient and easy to make, they were available everywhere. What was his deal?
“Okay, let’s get you fed first because you’re going to take your medication before you sleep.”
I shook my head. The thought of sitting and eating made me gag a little. Sleep, on the other hand, I needed.
“Just give me cereal or something. Nothing too heavy. I’m ready to crash.” Besides, I had already taken up much of his time by him coming to my rescue. Fussing over me was not needed. I could take care of myself.
My retort didn’t go down well with him. Instead of having a normal reaction, he surprised me by taking my crutches away before plucking me up as though I were weightless then heading for the kitchen. Upon reaching the dining table, he used his left foot to push free the chair before depositing my stubborn self on it.
“Sit down, Chloe. I won’t feed you generic crap. You’ve got to eat. I’m not going to watch you starve yourself to death just so you can maintain this figure.”
WTF! That was uncalled for!
“I’m not starving myself! What do you expect from me? Just because I don’t stuff my face with the nearest cake, it doesn’t mean I’m not eating. You’re being an idiot. Besides, I don’t want you to cook. I’m fine.”
He immediately shut the fridge and gave me a hardened stare. “You have something against my cooking for you? You used to love it. I thought you’d like that veggie soup Nana used to make.”
It was my favorite, and he knew that. I appreciated his effort, but I just didn’t want to get hurt. The more I spent time with him, the more I questioned myself, an indication that my emotions were too unstable to be trusted where he was concerned.
“Drew, please, my body aches. Arguing with you is pointless.” The drugs made me feel much better. I knew by tomorrow, though, I would be singing a different tune.
“Fine,” he muttered before spinning on his heels and hunting down a bowl and spoon. “Lucky Charms, okay?”
He knew I loved that little green leprechaun dude and the dried up cute marshmallows. “Yes, that’ll do. Thanks.”
It took him a few minutes to stride over and carefully place the bowl in front me. He then took the chair to my right before leaning against the chair, effortlessly cool and laid back, watching me as if I were some reality show unfolding before his eyes. If it hadn’t been for his phone r
inging so he had to stroll away toward the other end of the flat to get it, I would have melted from the force of simply having him there, scrutinizing me while I ate.
Minding myself, I tried to muster enough appetite to finish half of the cereal he had given me. He had filled it to the top, which was such a waste to throw out, yet I couldn’t take another bite.
“I’m done,” I meekly said before murmuring a soft thank you.
He took the dish away and placed it in the sink then took out the prescription. “I’ll give you juice instead of water since you didn’t eat much; is that cool?”
It was kind of him to think about the little things. It wouldn’t have crossed my mind at all.
“Yeah, that’s sounds good.”
After pouring me half a glass and placing it before me, he then excused himself, leaving me for a few minutes. Then he returned to assist me in balancing myself while slightly delirious from the pills.
The moment we got to my bedroom, I heard the bath water running in the bathroom. Confused, I gave him a frown while my heart sped up to an unprecedented rate.
“What’s that for?”
“You pointed out that your body’s in pain. I figured that your body would be in less pain tomorrow if you helped ease it out with a warm bath.”
I got that, but … “I’m too tired to worry about that tonight. I just want to go to bed. Besides, it would be too hard to get in and out of the tub with only one good foot.”
“I’m going to be there to help you,” he stated like he had just suggested something mundane and not something outrageous.
Flabbergasted, I stared at him with my mouth hanging ajar. Had I just heard him say that he would help me bathe, naked and all?