by Jamie Beck
“Doesn’t sound like you’re giving me a choice, are you, Doc?” I scratch my arm. I’m worried, but I’m not gonna advertise it to him or anyone else. “How soon?”
“I’ll schedule surgery for tomorrow morning.” He makes a notation on my chart. “Try not to be anxious. If you have questions, page me.” He nods and then exits without further comment.
I shove the tray of disgusting scrambled eggs away from my bed. Even if I were hungry, the sight of the pale, rubbery lump would surely dampen my appetite. I’m pissed off. Not a great start to the day.
Where’s Lindsey? I want to know what the hell happened yesterday. I can’t remember how I ended up here. It’s disconcerting that everyone entering my room today is covered, head to toe, in sterile clothes and face masks. I must be highly contagious or extremely susceptible to germs, neither of which is very good.
Damn, I hate hospitals. What’d I do to deserve these problems?
“Good morning, Levi.”
Lindsey’s voice wakes me from my nap. My brain’s muddled, but I recognize her eyes even though her face and hair are hidden. Unfortunately, my dismal mood and clammy skin override any enthusiasm I feel for her arrival.
“Is it? Doesn’t seem too good to me.” She’s not the reason for my bad humor, but she’s here and I need to unload. Her brows shoot upward and I watch her hands find their way to her hips. Oh boy, here we go. “Don’t light into me, Lindsey. I’m sorry I barked at you. Give me a break, would you? It’s been a shitty morning.”
Her eyes soften and she launches into a barrage of questions. “How’s your temperature? Has the rash improved? Is the vancomycin working? What did the doctor say?”
She sits at the edge of my bed, taking a break from her rapid-fire questions, and rests her hand on my arm. Instinctively I flinch, but then relax and allow myself to enjoy the pleasure of her tenderly stroking my forearm.
“You look a little better than last night.” Her voice cracks. “You scared me yesterday.”
“Doc says the meds are working.” I shrug. “Apparently my fever’s dropping. But he’s going back into my spine to clean the screws and check the graft for infection.”
Lindsey’s eyes fly open.
“Yeah, another surgery. Trust me, I’m not happy.” I place my hand over hers. The tenderness shocks me, so I withdraw it and tuck it behind my head. “So, what happened yesterday? How’d I end up back here?”
“You don’t remember anything about yesterday . . . or last night?” Lindsey’s eyeing me like she’s hoping for a specific memory to surface. Well, she’ll be waiting a long time, because yesterday’s a blank slate.
“Not really. I’d been sleepy, so I stayed in bed. I don’t remember much more. You must’ve found me and brought me here.”
“Not exactly. You’d been sleeping all day. When I returned in the early evening, I came to your room and noticed the rash and fever. It was really scary, Levi. You’ve no idea. You were incoherent.” Her stricken expression oddly elevates my mood.
She cares about me. I can hardly believe it.
I refocus on her words while she continues her story.
“I couldn’t move you, so I called the ambulance. They’d only let me see you briefly before they sent me home.”
Lindsey’s eyes start to water. More evidence of her genuine concern for my welfare. Warmth spreads through me, erasing much of my anxiety.
“Ah, boy, tears?” I lay my hand on top of hers, which is still gripping my forearm. “Come on, no cryin’.”
“I thought you might die.” She wipes her widened, red-rimmed eyes with her free hand. “The rash spread so quickly and your temperature shot up to brain-damage range.”
“Don’t tell me you’d miss me if I died? I’d assumed you’d be happy to be rid of me, since I’m so grouchy and particular and all.” My joke elicits a gentle slap from her, but no smile.
“That’s bad form, Levi. Not the least bit funny. Last night was awful.”
I must agree. “Well, there’s nothing funny about needing another surgery, either. Another chance for a mistake that might leave me paralyzed.”
Immediately regretting vocalizing my concern, I look away to keep her from seeing my fears. When I face her, she laces her fingers with mine. The startling intimacy causes my breath to catch. I stare at our hands, fighting the panic urging me to yank free.
“Levi, I’m so sorry. I feel responsible because I didn’t catch the signs sooner. I’m sure the surgery will be fine, just like last time. The infection’s the more dangerous problem, but it sounds like they’re getting it under control.”
Not sure if she’s trying to convince herself or me, but I shrug because what else can she or I say? She’s never withstood a serious threat of paralysis. For me, it might be worse than dying. I doubt I could live the rest of my life needing help. Plus, no more bike, no surfing, and what about sex? Life without sex, well, that’s simply too awful to consider.
Holding Lindsey’s hand in mine, I know, if she weren’t my neighbor, I’d want her in my bed—more than once. I won’t seduce her, but it sucks thinking I could end up paralyzed and unable to do so if I changed my mind.
I close my eyes to focus on something else.
She slips her hand from mine. “I brought you some things to keep you occupied these next few days.”
Opening her bag, she retrieves my computer, some headphones, my robe, a smoothie, and a new book. I’m humbled by her thoughtfulness over and over again. She takes damn good care of me.
“You keep treating me this way and I may stay sick forever.”
I can’t see her mouth, but her eyes glow as if she’s sporting a big grin under her mask. She’s too damn easy to please, despite her being a princess.
She pushes the food tray close to me so I can reach the smoothie, then tilts her head and watches me. It’s pretty plain she’s considering saying something she thinks might upset me. I’m not interested in being upset, so I ignore her and concentrate on the drink. Unfortunately, my peace doesn’t last long.
“Levi, I know you protect your privacy, but last night I needed to contact your family and didn’t know who to call. You’ve avoided sharing any information, but I need emergency contact names and numbers now.”
“No, you don’t.” I put down the cup and cross my arms in front of my chest. Lindsey’s eyes are still and cautious. She’s fishing for information, but I can tell she has her own ideas about me.
“Yes, I do. Your father passed away, but what about your mom? Or do you have any siblings, cousins, anyone at all?”
My gaze remains steady and calm while I consider what to share. “Why’re you so interested?”
“Beyond emergencies, you mean?” Her eye roll may have been visible from the moon. “How about fairness? We’ve spent a lot of time together, yet you remain a stranger. I’ve revealed everything from my humiliating situation with Rob to details about my parents and my home. You’ve given back nothing. It’s not really how friendship works, one-sided like this. I deserve to know something about your family, about who you are.”
Her demands and requirements of “friendship” tarnish all the heady feelings I’ve been soaking up this morning. No one knows anything about my family, such as it is. Lindsey thinks she wants to know me, but will learning the truth about Pop and Mama change the way she looks at me?
“Is that what we have, Lindsey—friendship?” I notice her flinch. “I recall telling you I don’t really do friendship.” But I might, for you.
“True, but in our case, you can’t avoid it.” Lindsey’s head droops. A dejected, distant look clouds her eyes. “Anyway, why do you prefer such distance? I understand shying away from serious romantic relationships, but no close friends? Why?”
“It’s the way I’ve always been. I didn’t grow up in a neighborhood, going to a regular school. We moved a lot.” I sigh. “When you grow up like me, it’s easier not to get attached to anyone or any place. After years of conditioning, it’s simply who I am.”
/> “Why’d you move around so much that you couldn’t enroll in school? Did your dad have some crazy sales job or something?” Her dubious expression suggests I can’t skirt the truth.
“Or something. My pop wasn’t a good man, at least not by most people’s standards.” Lindsey’s eyes pop open a bit, but she waits for me to say more. She’s learning to keep quiet. “Jesus, Lindsey. You want all the gory details?”
“Well, not if he killed someone or something. Don’t tell me that!”
Now I’m stunned. Murder?
“Hell no! My pop didn’t kill anyone.” I feel my eyebrows skimming my hairline. “Boy, you set a low bar.”
“No. You set my low expectation with your cryptic commentary.” A single brow arches above her pretty eyes. “So, why do you think he wasn’t a good man?”
My eyelid twitches, so I twist my neck around to relax. My past isn’t something I’m comfortable sharing, but her wild ideas are even worse than the truth.
“I owe you for all you’ve done for me, but this is the only time I’ll talk about it. I don’t want you bringing it up again. Deal?”
“Deal.” She sits back, bracing herself.
I push the smoothie aside. A minute or two passes while I consider where to begin.
“My pop conned people for a living. He’d use a false name, approach people with phony investment schemes, then take their money and run. By the time I turned twelve, I couldn’t enroll in school because we were moving from town to town every several weeks or months. That, plus Pop didn’t want any records to be traced back to him or his real name. So when I wasn’t playing cards, I hid out in local libraries reading about whatever interested me, or what I figured I needed to learn to have a different life.”
Surprisingly, Lindsey’s unresponsive to my news. It’s very unusual for her to conceal her emotions. Maybe she’s trying to be reassuring. Warily, I continue.
“My whole world revolved around Pop. I didn’t understand much about his ‘profession’ until I was a teenager. But even when I learned the truth, I didn’t turn him in, because I couldn’t send my only family to jail. So I bided my time until my eighteenth birthday and then I took off. I’ve lived on my own since then.”
For an instant, I’m faintly relieved at having told someone the truth. Then panic strikes as I worry about how Lindsey will view my past. Fortunately, she appears sympathetic instead of disapproving.
“You must’ve been very lonely.” She pauses, as if she’s afraid to continue. “It makes your accomplishments that much more impressive.”
Her lack of judgment relaxes me until she continues with the questions.
“That’s another thing—how did you acquire so much without any formal education? Surely you didn’t bartend your way into so much money.” She winks, and the reminder of our first encounter coaxes a smile from me.
“Actually, I sorta did. Right after we met, I moved to Vegas, where I spent several years bartending at nightclubs and playing in poker tournaments in my free time. I lived in a dump and saved almost everything I made. After reading a dozen books about stock trading, I gave it a shot. Got real lucky with a few risky investments during the recession, and now here I am. Actually, most people probably don’t realize the parallels between poker and investing.”
“That’s incredible. You must’ve been extremely disciplined. Come to think of it, you still are pretty disciplined.” She grins, then her brows crease. She’s looking at everything except for me. “So, where was your mother all this time? Did she die when you were young?”
“She’s dead to me.” My jaw tics.
“Again, cryptic.”
“It really doesn’t matter much why she’s not in my life. It is what it is.”
“So she’s not dead.”
I bury my head back into my pillow and squeeze my eyes closed, heaving an exasperated sigh.
“No, she’s not dead. I haven’t seen her since I turned nine. I don’t care for her and she sure don’t care about me.” Shit. The grammar again. I open one eye and peer at Lindsey.
Oddly, she seems unsurprised by my admission. How’s that possible? Maybe she’s too stunned to react to everything she just learned. She picks imaginary lint off my blanket while she considers her next question.
“So, you push everyone away because you’re afraid they’ll leave like she did?” Lindsey’s searching for a way in, but I can’t let her in any deeper. I’m already in tricky territory with her.
“Don’t play shrink with me. I choose how to live my life. That’s how I want things. I keep friendly acquaintances with folks around town, but I don’t get overly involved. It works for me. I’m not lonely. Unlike you, I don’t suffer any heartbreak.”
She leans close to me, speaking quietly. “You only think it works because you focus on the potential for pain at the expense of all the pleasure. Yes, I’ve been hurt by people, but I’ve also experienced the highs of loving and of being loved. It’s a gift to be connected to something bigger than myself.”
Failing to tamp down my own bewildered annoyance, I sneer. “Goody for you, but I’m not interested in being someone different. Don’t try to change me.”
With my final remark, her eyes dim. All of the light from inside snuffs out. She shrugs, causing a shudder to travel through me.
“Okay.” She sighs and drops her head.
“Okay? So, the inquisition’s over?” I reach for her hand. “You won’t keep at me to open up and make friends with people?”
She views me, affectless.
“No. I hear you. No friends. No family. You want to be left alone.” She removes her hand from mine and stands.
Something opens up and shifts between us. I don’t like it. Nausea brews, and not as a result of my infection. In a split second, all of her affection vanished.
“Well, thanks for your honesty, Levi.” She walks to the edge of the bed. “I should be off. You’re not supposed to have lengthy visits with anyone. When’s the surgery? I’ll be here before and wait until I know you’re all right.”
Her tone’s even and controlled. I prefer the domineering, cheerful Lindsey to this version, but the fact that I care at all alarms me. I’ve become too fond of her, and I feel her pulling away now that I’ve disclosed nearly everything. Knowing this can only end badly for me, I need to disengage before I risk any more of myself.
“Thanks, but you’ve devoted too much time to me and my problems. If I recall, you have your own issues to sort out.”
Lindsey inhales a long, deep breath, glancing off and up toward the ceiling. When she looks at me again, her eyes are glistening.
“Get well soon, Levi. I’ll see you . . . later.”
She grabs her purse and dashes out the door before I can respond.
Suddenly, my chest is crushed by doubt. Did I just adhere to a valid stop-loss policy, or did I fold while holding a royal flush?
Lindsey
The nurse informs me Levi’s surgery is scheduled very early tomorrow morning. He doesn’t want me there. He doesn’t want to be my friend. He doesn’t want anything from me at all.
If I recall, you have your own issues to sort out. Yes. Yes, I do. I’ve spent the past several weeks pretending I’m on some kind of vacation. But it’s not a vacation—it’s my frickin’ life. I’m no closer to making a decision about Rob, or anything else, than I was the day I left New York.
I arrive home flustered and antsy, but eager to take one step. Determined to do something, I call Rob at his office.
“Robert Whitmore.”
“Hi, Rob, it’s me.” I hear a whoosh of air.
“Lindsey, what’s wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing happened. Why?”
“I didn’t expect to hear from you, so I assumed something happened.”
I wince. Something did happen, just not the way he suspects. “I’ve been considering our last conversation. Part of me wants to pretend these past few weeks never happened, but every time I think I might be able to, I
can’t. I’m afraid. And I really hate you working with Ava. I’m sure she’s told others in your office about her conquest. How can I face them? How can you?”
Ignoring my questions, he replies, “Come home. Come home and I’ll rebuild your trust.”
It’s so tempting. He still loves me, but is it enough? What does his love mean? What do I need for myself and from him? And what about these feelings for Levi I’m repressing?
“Rob, why do you love me?”
“What?”
“Why do you love me?”
“Because you’re you. You’re beautiful and warm, we’re compatible, you understand the demands of my career, and we want the same things.”
“Do we?”
“Do we what?”
“Want the same things? I don’t like how your job always comes first, for instance. I doubt I’d be happy living with your seventy-five-hour workweeks for the next thirty years.”
“Who says I’ll work here for thirty years? I’ll be able to retire by forty if I want to, Lindsey.”
“That’s still more than a decade away, and you’d never retire so young. It’s not in your nature.”
“So, now this isn’t only about my infidelity. Now my ambition’s a problem? What else suddenly doesn’t work for you?”
I can almost hear his jaw clench through the phone.
“I’m just reconsidering what being partners who can love and support each another for life really means. Trust is the cornerstone, but there are other things, too. Things I can’t quite articulate.”
I hear Rob’s exasperated exhale. “How can I say this politely? You’ve been in LA for a month and you’re already sounding very ‘granola.’ Have you been pretending to be happy with me all these years?”
“No, I was happy.” I frown. “I thought I was happy. You’re an amazing, talented, and persuasive man. But something’s changed. Instead of worrying about pleasing everyone else, I’m thinking of my own needs. Maybe I’m not good for you, or anyone, until I figure out who I am and what makes me tick.”
“I’m trying to be patient, but you’re making it difficult. Why do you have to be in California to find yourself?” Rob’s sarcasm bursts through his final words, which irritates me. “Can’t you do it here in New York?”