by Jamie Beck
“In New York, you and my parents constantly tell me what to think. You shape my responses. The geography’s a buffer.”
“I’ve never tried to control you. Don’t lump me with Helene and Bill. That’s not fair.”
“Sorry, you’re right. But I anticipate your expectations and conform my behavior to meet them.”
“Then be honest with me, but don’t run away and break everything apart.”
“I need this time and distance.”
“So we’re back to square one. What else can I say that I haven’t already said?”
“Nothing. I only wanted to hear your voice and let you know what’s in my head.” I bite my lower lip. “That’s all.”
He huffs. “Do you feel better now, or worse?”
“Better.”
“Okay. Well, I don’t, but I’ll deal with it. I guess I don’t have a choice.”
His resignation is apparent.
“Thanks for trying to understand. It means a lot, Rob. Really.”
“What I understand is you’re pulling away from everything you are and unilaterally changing us. I don’t like it, but again, what can I do? I thought you left because of Ava, but obviously your doubts extend beyond her. Maybe it’s you who doesn’t love me.”
Astonished, I blurt, “I do love you. But maybe love’s not the only issue.”
“You know what? That’s enough. This conversation’s going nowhere and it’s pissing me off. We shouldn’t talk again unless you decide to come home before I choose to move on. Until then, we’ll each muddle through on our own.”
His parting threat deepens the crack between us, creating a sinkhole. I realize he may well move on before I’ve reconciled my own feelings. But I suppose it’s basically what I’ve done to him already. It’d be selfish to restrict his freedom after I’ve moved across the country. If we can’t wait it out a few months, we really weren’t meant to be together.
“I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, Rob. Despite everything, you hold a big part of my heart in your hands.”
I hang up before he replies or I burst into tears. I sink back into my chair. Some of the tension I’d been carrying around these past two days dissipates. At least now Rob knows what I’m thinking, even if he mocked me. Of course, I concealed my growing attraction to Levi. The hypocrisy of my situation slowly tightens like a noose wrapped around my neck.
If Rob and Levi didn’t exist, what would I be doing? What would I want to accomplish? Honestly, I always have been happiest when helping others. Maybe that’s where I start; maybe my purpose is service. But what kind of service?
Do I want to reinvest the time and money to reeducate myself as a doctor, nurse, or therapist so I can help people battling illness or an emotional crisis? What if I undertake that commitment and end up hating the actual job?
Perhaps I can volunteer at a hospital or shelter for abused women or some other organization, and figure out if I’ve got the skills to assist people with serious problems. After all, the only volunteering I’ve done has involved working on fund-raising committees for my school’s endowment fund and a local museum. Not exactly tough stuff.
This endless cycle of thoughts exhausts me, so I climb into bed early and pass out.
I forgo my morning run when I finally awaken. It’s already eight o’clock. Levi’s been wheeled into surgery by now, while I lie snuggled under my fluffy down blanket. I know he’s terrified, yet I’m intentionally staying away. I feel like a brat for punishing him just because he hurt my feelings. His lashing out probably had more to do with my prying than with our relationship.
He’d bravely peeled back his carefully constructed mask for me, exposing the most painful, disgraceful truths of his life. I’d been so intent on finding answers, I failed to consider how dredging up those old injuries might affect him. Now, in his moment of need, I’ve let my pride supersede decency.
I’ve essentially proven to him, once again, he can’t rely on anyone. Worse, he probably thinks I’ve abandoned him because of what he shared. I left him sitting alone all night, worried about paralysis. Remorse pricks my heart.
I need to go to him today, if only to show not everyone will desert him. I’ll adjust my expectations of our friendship, but I won’t withdraw it completely.
When I’m descending Levi’s stairs with his mail in hand, Elena spots me. Oh, great.
“Lindsey, didn’t expect to catch you on a morning walk of shame.” Her jovial tone fails to screen the resentful shimmer in her eyes.
“Oh, no, Elena. He isn’t home. I’m just picking up his mail for him.” I hold up the envelopes as proof. “He’s in the hospital.”
Elena cocks her head. “What happened?”
He’ll probably be livid with me for disclosing personal information, but to hell with him and his artificial walls.
“A few weeks ago he fell victim to a hit and run, resulting in emergency spinal surgery. He’s in surgery again for a blood infection, but hopefully everything will turn out fine.”
“Santa Monica Trauma?” Elena asks.
“Yes.” I see the wheels turning behind her eyes as she plans the next move in her imaginary contest for Levi’s affection. Jealousy pierces me when I picture her comforting him in my stead. “Elena, if you go visit him, don’t expect a cheerful greeting. The surgery’s very painful.”
“Obviously you braved it. I’ve known him longer than you anyway.” Her posture issues her challenge. “I’m as willing as you are to lend a helping hand.”
I don’t need to get in a turf war. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”
Elena nods and marches home.
I decide to be productive until I’m sure Levi’s out of the recovery room. Revisiting the idea of charity work, I research organizations focused on supporting the needs of children. Within seconds I have a list of sites to research. Google rocks.
After reading through several, I discover Child Advocacy Association, a national nonprofit organization that provides adult liaisons and advocates for children subjected to court proceedings involving abusive or neglectful parents. According to the website, volunteers don’t need a legal or counseling background. The organization provides intense training to potential advocates, in addition to recommending dozens of books on topics from child abuse and cultural competency to diversity and advocacy skill building.
Speaking up on behalf of defenseless children would be extremely rewarding and life changing—for them and me. Imagine the lifelong bonds that develop throughout the process. It sounds like a perfect fit, assuming I pass the training and qualify to become an advocate.
Perhaps if I do this, I can freelance write on the side to promote the agency and its cause. Maybe I can even journal my experience and write a book about it one day, which could extend the reach of my assistance by raising awareness.
I get lost in my excitement, spending the next few hours reading more material and outlining a plan.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Levi
The chirping alarm of some hospital equipment in the hall right outside my room makes me want to kill someone. I glance at the wall clock. Three fifteen p.m. I’ve slept for almost four hours. This surgery went a little quicker since there weren’t other emergency conditions involved. I’m relieved it’s over.
My fingers and toes are all in working order. This time I knew to expect the general lethargy in the recovery room, so I didn’t panic. And the upside of my staph infection is getting a private room. Now I just wish Lindsey would show up.
She ignored me last night and didn’t wish me luck this morning. I didn’t expect her to show up at six this morning, but she didn’t even call. It’s not her fault. I drove a wedge between us yesterday¸ but then immediately regretted my remarks.
I think I’ve pretty much severed whatever bond we’d begun to share. Reestablishing boundaries and retreating into my safe zone ought to make me ecstatic. Instead, I feel cold through to my bones, like I’m walking through sleet.
Damn if
she didn’t tunnel her way through my barriers. I admit, she introduced a sorely needed lightheartedness to my world. Now I’ll miss her. I don’t know what to do with that feeling.
I could call her, but in the end it’d only postpone the inevitable hell I’ll suffer when she runs back to New York. This kind of torment is why I’ve shunned relationships. Dependence or dejection—the only certain outcomes of intimacy. Neither seems a great prize.
Of course, she might not return to New York, at least not for a while. Visions of her smile and teasing glances taunt me, urging me to reach out. Well, I can’t do it without knowing what exactly I’m reaching for. Her friendly company, or more?
I think these drugs are making me crazy. Or perhaps my near brushes with death this month have me reevaluating Pop’s edicts against love.
I hear a knock at my door before someone enters. My body breaks out in goose bumps, assuming it’s Lindsey.
“Hey there, Levi.” Elena sashays into my room, as only she can. “It’s me, Elena.”
Good Lord, the woman even figured out how to fashion a hospital gown to show off her curves. What’s she doing here anyway?
“What a surprise.” Raising the bed into a sitting position, I proceed with caution, hoping to strike a balance between being too aloof and encouraging additional visits. Her company is all right, but she’s too eager to build something between us that will never exist.
“Yes, imagine my surprise when I ran into Lindsey on the beach this morning and heard what happened. It’s terrible. If I’d known sooner, I’d have offered to help. But now I know, so you can count on me.”
The surgical mask obscures most of her face, but her eyes sparkle with hope and hunger. Pulling a chair right beside my bed, she sits down, pats my thigh, and then leaves her hand resting there. Restraining the urge to swat it away, I hope she’ll eventually take the hint from my lack of response.
“That’s real sweet, but I’m doin’ all right. Lindsey’s been helping, so I’m covered.” A numbing sensation cinches my heart when I consider perhaps Lindsey won’t be assisting me anymore.
Elena’s not yet deterred, but her suddenly straightened posture indicates a temporary concession. Finally, she withdraws her hand from my leg.
“Okay, but I can still stop in and visit. Must get dreadfully dull, staying in bed all day. Or not?” She’s teasing, but with genuine intent.
I ignore the flirtation. “It’s boring. I miss the ocean.”
“If it’s any consolation, I haven’t noticed many surfers out lately. Hasn’t been great.”
Elena spends the following thirty minutes chattering on about our neighborhood, a party she attended, and her love life—or lack thereof. I smile, but my mind drifts in and out of the conversation. Each time I hear footsteps outside my door, I hope it’s Lindsey. My insides crumble as I realize she’s not going to surface. Fortunately, Elena’s so busy reciting her litany, she doesn’t notice. Guess she’s used to my quietude.
Then, at four thirty, Lindsey materializes. I inhale sharply when she enters the room. Reflexively, I reach for her, but then drop my hand to my side to conceal my reaction.
She greets Elena. Her eyes dart around the room without meeting mine. I guess she’s unwilling to trust me after yesterday’s discussion. I need to fix this situation because I dislike her distant conduct. Unfortunately, my mouth went dry the instant she appeared. Despite my every effort to remain detached, I’ve failed. Damn it to hell, I’m unable to manage my feelings.
“Hi, Levi. I brought you some dinner.” Lindsey sets a container of soup on my tray. Its sweet aroma reveals it to be my favorite, butternut squash soup. “Did everything go all right? No more setbacks?”
Her worry gives rise to hope that lifts my spirit. But like a soap bubble floating upward, it’s in constant jeopardy of bursting.
“No setbacks.” My eyes move from her to Elena and back before I shoot one brow upward.
Lindsey’s guarded, but addresses Elena. “Sorry to intrude on your visit.”
Since Elena’s occupying the only chair, Lindsey leans against the window ledge.
Thankfully, Elena isn’t one to share the spotlight and chooses to leave. After slobbering over me with a grand good-bye kiss on the forehead, she tosses us her signature mini-wave and struts from the room. Once she’s gone, Lindsey holds her finger to her lips to shush me while she closes the door.
Her odd behavior makes me smile. “Why’d you close my door?”
She frowns and sighs, tossing her hand to the side with her palm facing upward. “I’m preparing for you to unleash your wrath and prefer not to have everyone in the hall overhear us.” Her hand then finds its favorite resting spot—her hip.
“My wrath? Huh.” I grin. “About Elena’s surprise visit, you mean?”
“Yes.” She studies me. “Why don’t you like her, Levi? Did you two have a romantic falling-out or something?”
Possessive curiosity. That thrills me almost as much as her feigned indifference. “No. I like her fine, just not the way she wants. I try not to give her false hope, that’s all.”
“Oh. Well, that’s considerate.” Lindsey’s eyes register relief. “She ran into me when I was getting your mail early this morning—by the way, here it is.” She tosses it on the tray. “Anyway, she accused me of slinking away on a ‘walk of shame,’ so I had to tell her the truth. Sorry.”
“Okay.”
Her brows climb up her forehead. “Really? No lectures, no admonishments, no more ‘I just don’t like people’ speeches?”
Yep, my remarks yesterday upset her, as I’d guessed. Now she’s keeping her distance, doubting me. Strategically, I know the only way to win this hand is to swallow my pride. “You didn’t come back last night or this morning.” I edge toward the abyss of exposing vulnerability. “I worried you might not be back again.”
She presses her hand against her heart and bats her lashes with mock flirtation. “Did you miss me?”
“Yes.” I keep my eyes focused on reading her.
“Oh.” Her eyes widen. She stops playing and starts fidgeting. “Sorry. I thought you wanted some space.”
Her gaze flickers. The air between us grows thick with unspoken sentiment. I’m close to yanking her back, so I push it a step further.
“So did I.” I resolutely hold her stare. “But I was wrong.”
Jesus, the urge to spring from bed and kiss her overwhelms me. Damn it. Worse, my powers of observation fail me. I can’t tell if she’s feeling any of the same yearning. My weakness for her clouds my senses.
“Levi, I’m not your mother. I won’t turn and run when you least expect it.”
As soon as the words leave her mouth, her hand flies upward to cover it.
The priceless expression on her face makes me snort. “It’s okay. I’m not offended. In fact, I owe you an apology. Yesterday’s discussion unearthed a lot of issues I keep buried, for obvious reasons. I never meant to suggest I don’t consider you a friend, Lindsey.”
My honesty’s rewarded with her twinkling eyes. I’m quite sure she’s smiling underneath that face mask. I wish I could see it.
“I don’t know what to say. I’m proud of you for trying, Levi. I promise, you won’t be sorry.”
“We’ll see,” I tease. Now that the world doesn’t feel so tilted, I can breathe easily. “Thanks for the food, by the way, and the mail. Mind if I eat?”
“Sure, but let me warm it in the nurses’ microwave. I’m sure it’s too cool now.”
She jumps up with the container and leaves the room. When she returns, she demands an update on the infection and surgery. She appears to relax upon hearing my relatively good news.
“I should be sprung in three more days.” I look at the IV bag. “But I’m gonna be on these antibiotics for a long time.”
“This time you’re staying at my house and we’re renting a hospital bed.” Her expression warns me not to speak. “No more taking chances. I’ll be keeping a closer watch from now on.”
Considering the miserable sixteen hours I’ve spent wondering if she’d be returning, I agree. I won’t risk pushing her away again.
Plus, I’m curious to see the inside of her house. I know it’s a rental, but I suspect she’s particular and took her time to pick something she’d feel at home in, even temporarily. It’ll be interesting to live with someone for a while. Ironically, I haven’t had a roommate since Dan, in Florida.
Lindsey
Elena visited Levi twice during his stay at the hospital. Her obvious lust only pushes him further away. I’m tempted to tell her the truth, but he’d probably kill me. No doubt she’ll be stopping by once he’s settled in my house.
He’ll be wearing a PICC line to administer intravenous antibiotics during the next several weeks, so he’s hiring a nurse to check him twice a week. Thank God. A trained set of eyes will recognize the signs of infection better than mine would.
The hospital bed arrived yesterday. It’s set up in the living room by the sliding doors to provide Levi a nice view of the ocean, and easy access to a bathroom and the kitchen.
Under other circumstances, I’d be perfectly comfortable moving him in during his recovery. However, I haven’t confessed the truth about my new roommate to my parents. I hate lying to them but don’t want to go to war over it, either. I guess I’m a coward, or maybe simply pragmatic. I’m a grown-up and am entitled to some privacy anyway, right?
On the ride home from the hospital, I thank God the doctors were able to control the infection. Levi’s still weakened, but his color’s better, and the rash and fever have receded. When we arrive at my house, he postpones the tour and crawls directly into the bed.
Once he’s comfortably stretched out, he scans the living room and grins. “It’s cheerful in here, Lindsey. Suits you.”
“When I saw it online, it looked perfect.” I survey the living room in affirmation. “I really love it.”
“Thanks for sharing your space with me. I know it’s an imposition.”