by Jay McLean
The guilt returns. The guilt of my actions, of hers, of the moments spent in this same hospital, my broken heart in her hands while time stood still, waiting to see her. And now Chaz is here, because—“I should’ve been there,” I whisper, eyes snapping shut to fight back the tears. A second later, her lips are on my cheek, kissing away the tears, and God, I’m pathetic. Because the feel of her touch outweighs the shame of my emotions, and so I hold her to me. Even when her mouth’s no longer there, still, I hold her, needing her close. She must know that, sense it somehow because her body seems to relax. We end up lying on the couch, her body molded against me, my hand on her waist, her emerald eyes on mine. And in the semi-darkness of the room, in the silence that surrounds us, and the pain that keeps us together, I manage to find a moment of bravery in my otherwise fearful existence. “I missed you so much, Becs.”
* * *
At some point, Becca drifts off to sleep, her breaths warming my chest. I don’t sleep. I can’t. Night turns to morning, the occasional visit from a nurse breaking up the silence, bar the constant beeping of the monitors. Then Chaz stirs, moans escaping her before she’s fully come to.
I peel Becca off of me, trying not to wake her, and move over to Chaz, hoping, praying, she’s okay. Chaz blinks a few times, getting used to the morning light drifting through from the window. She smiles when she sees me. “I thought it was a nightmare,” she whispers.
“It’ll be over soon.” She looks around the room as I ask, “Do you need anything, ma’am?”
She reaches for the pitcher of water on the nightstand, but I stop her, pour some into a plastic cup, and help her to sit up before handing it to her. She pauses, the straw halfway to her lips when she sees Becca on the couch, her body curled into a ball, wearing my hoodie I’d forced on her because I knew she was cold. She’s always cold.
Chaz’s eyes snap to mine, her smile barely contained. “I almost forgot about her,” she whispers, placing the cup back on the tray. Chaz sits up higher, moving the pillows behind her before motioning to a chair next to her bed. I sit down, taking her offered hands, my heart swelling and squeezing at the pure joy on her face. “How long have you and she been together, and why did you hide it from me?”
My stomach drops, my gaze trailing from her to a still-sleeping Becca and I don’t respond.
“She’s so beautiful, Joshua,” Chaz whispers, her voice laced with excitement. “And those eyes…”
I don’t know what to say. What to tell her that won’t do any damage to her emotional state, so I press a button on the control attached to her bed and page a nurse, an action I’m all too familiar with.
—Becca—
Hands on my shoulders, shaking gently, wake me from my sleep. Josh’s eyes are the first thing I see—dark and tired and full of sadness—the same way they’ve been every time he’s looked at me since the night of my “incident.” I miss the joy in them, the laughter, the love I used to get lost in. I miss him. I wanted to tell him that last night when he’d said it to me while his arms were wrapped around me. But my throat was worn, and reaching for my phone meant moving away from him, and neither of us wanted that. So I searched his gaze, while he searched mine, and I hoped that he’d be able to see it.
“Your grams is awake,” he whispers.
I look over his shoulder to the nurse attending to Grams and then back at Josh, my lips parting, my silent question hanging heavy between us. He shakes his head, his gaze dropping. “I’m sorry. She still…” His voice fades, the truth in his answer left unspoken. She still doesn’t remember me.
“I’m going to hang around here if you need to go home. I won’t leave her side.”
I sit up and reach for the phone in my bag. I’m not going anywhere.
“Okay.”
Did you sleep at all?
He shakes his head again.
Maybe you should go get some rest.
He licks his lips before rubbing his eyes. “Even if I left, I couldn’t sleep. Not until I know what’s wrong with her.”
I’ll go find us some coffee, I type, offering a supportive smile.
He shoves his hand in his pocket and pulls out some cash just as the nurse says, “She’s fallen asleep again. I have to monitor her for a while so why don’t you both go? Get something to eat, too. I don’t think either of you have left the room since you got here.”
Josh raises his eyebrows. “It’s probably not a bad idea.”
* * *
Josh leads the way, hands in his pockets, head lowered. He doesn’t look for signs or ask for directions. It’s like he has the entire hospital mapped out. I wonder for a moment exactly how much time he’s spent in here. As if reading my thoughts, he murmurs, “When my dad was still able to eat, he used to swear that the hospital food would end up being the cause of his death, so I spent a lot of time at the cafeteria here getting him what he wanted. Then he got sicker, and in my mind it was my fault because it’s hospital food for a reason, right? It’s healthy and it’s what patients need to get better. So one day, I refused to get him the egg sandwich he wanted and I practically shoved the hospital food down his throat. The next day, he was no longer able to swallow on his own.” He laughs once, but it’s sad, broken. “Sometimes I wonder if he did it just to spite me. Because he was that damn stubborn. He went three days without food before his body finally shut down.” His steps falter before stopping completely. Then he turns to me. “This is so morbid, I’m sorry. Your grams isn’t…”
“I know,” I mouth, ignoring the heaviness of my heart at his words.
He starts moving again, his hands still in his pockets. “I spoke to the nurse while you were sleeping. There’s a specialist on duty tomorrow. Dr. Richards. He’ll be running all the tests and talking to your grams, so we won’t know anything until he gets here. Right now, she’s not in any pain. She has a slight cold, but her lungs are clearing. I guess it’s just her memory.” He glances at me quickly before looking away. “I’m sorry she doesn’t remember you, Becs. Especially considering you’re so damn hard to forget.”
Journal
I wonder if it’s possible for time to stand still.
For the seconds of the clock to just STOP.
For minutes to slow to a pause and then nothing exists.
Nothing but two beating hearts.
Mine and his.
Through forced smiles and encouraged actions, I’d been moving forward.
One kick at a time.
Time after time.
Day after day.
Night after night.
But now I realize I’d been numb.
Because when he appeared,
My heart skipped a pulse,
reminding me that I was alive.
And now, I wish for the numb.
As much as I wish for the next joint heartbeat.
~ ~
14
—Becca—
We spend the day in the hospital room with Grams who falls in and out of sleep. When she’s awake, she speaks to Josh mainly, asking questions about the skate tournament he just competed in, asking about Tommy. Josh finds ways to avoid her questions about “our relationship,” something Grams thinks is hilarious. But when she asks him about Natalie, I decide it’s time to leave the room and get some fresh air. It hurts enough she doesn’t remember me, but Grams remembers her. A girl who caused Josh nothing but hurt and anger.
I sit on a bench just outside the hospital doors and reply to my messages from Sandra, Pete, and Dad. The earliest Dad can get in is the day after next, so he asks me to stay until he arrives—as if I’d be doing anything else. Sandra assures me to take as much time as needed, and since it’s winter break, she can get the other volunteers to cover my shifts. And Pete—he offers as much support as he can from a thousand miles away.
“Everything okay?” Josh asks, standing in front of me.
I nod and point to my bag he’s holding, my head tilting in confusion.
“So your grams kicked us out.�
��
“What?” I mouth.
“Yeah. She said it was dumb that we be in there when nothing was actually happening and then she started to get riled up. Started yelling at me because I was spending my time off hanging in a hospital room when I should be with my girlfriend”—he points to me—“showing her a good time.”
My jaw drops.
His laughter reaches his eyes. “Yeah. I don’t think she meant good time the way we’re probably thinking…”
“So what are we supposed to do?” Cordy asks for me.
He shrugs before handing me my stuff. “I guess we leave. Come back first thing tomorrow?”
* * *
A few months ago, Grams told me that Josh signed a huge sponsorship deal with Oakley sunglasses. She suspected it was seven figures, but she would never ask. Anyway, as soon as the contract was signed and the money was his, he paid off his parents’ mortgage and went into partnership with his uncle Robby to expand the construction business. He also donated a bunch of money to Grams’s church, breast cancer research, as well as the American Liver Foundation. It was also around the same time Say Something got a huge anonymous donation. So, with knowing all that, it doesn’t at all surprise me he’s still driving around in the same truck he had pre-pro-skater Josh. Nor does it surprise me that he still lives in Grams’s garage apartment. “So my mom’s at my house with Tommy. She’s cooking dinner. She says she wants to meet you.” He glances at me quickly, looking for a response before focusing on the road again. “You don’t have to,” he rushes out. “It’s cool if you just want to be alone.”
I’ve met his mom. She knows I’ve met her. She also knows I asked her never to tell Josh about it. I appreciate her keeping her word, but that’s not what has my breath caught in my throat and my thumbs frozen, hovering above my phone. She’s with Tommy—my best friend.
“Becs?” He pulls the car over and kills the engine, then turns to me. “You okay?”
My breaths are harsh, my chest rising and falling.
Josh sighs. “Look. I know last time you were here I said some stuff about Tommy—”
He doesn’t get a chance to finish because I throw my arms around his neck, my excitement overpowering every other emotion.
“Becca,” he whispers, hands on my arms pulling me off of him. He sits up straighter, his gaze on mine while I try to push back the disappointment. Then he clears his throat, his voice louder when he says, “I um… I’ve wanted to say something ever since you got here last night and I just… I haven’t found the right time but the truth is, I’m struggling here, Becs. It’s hard being this close to you when all I want to do is touch you. Honestly, I want to do more than touch you. Every time I look at you, all I can think about is kissing you and—” He breaks off when my eyes widen, throwing his hand up between us. “Don’t worry. I won’t. I just… I want to. I spent the entire night watching you sleep, letting my mind get lost in the memories of what we used to be and it felt so good to be back there again. Almost too good. And then morning hit, and so did reality, and now it almost hurts to be with you. So I’ve spent most of the day trying to stay away, trying to make it easier to the fight the urges. But it’s tough. Real tough. Especially when you’re looking at me the way you are….” I don’t think I’m looking at him like anything, so I shake my head, but he ignores it and starts the engine again. “We should go.”
He focuses on the road and nothing but the road for the rest of the drive home while I sit there, completely unfocused, lost in the daze of his declaration. It’s not until we near the house and I see Tommy and Josh’s mom, Ella, out in the driveway, Tommy messing around on a skateboard while his grandmother watches over him, that I snap out of my daze. The second we pull up, Tommy jumps off the board and runs toward us, ignoring his grandmother’s demands for him to stop. Josh hits the breaks, forcing me forward, his reflexes quick, his arm shooting to the side to protect me. “Sorry,” he murmurs.
“It’s okay,” I mouth, unable to control my smile when I see Tommy at my door. His hands are frantic as he tries again and again to open it, but the truck is big—too big for him to pull on the handle, so I unbuckle my seat belt and open the door slowly, giving him enough time to move away. He screams—one I’m sure would match mine if I actually could scream. Then he says the words that settle the ache in my chest, but create a fear in my mind. “Becca’s home!”
Tommy’s hug is tight. Mine is tighter. Ella approaches me once Tommy and I have settled down. “You must be Becca,” she says, her arms spread. I trust her enough to touch me, to hug me, to hold me, to keep our secret safe. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Tommy doesn’t stop talking about you.”
I look down at Tommy, his full set of baby teeth on show. He’s grown so much. His baby fat is gone, replaced with boyish cheekbones. His hair is thicker now, just like his dad’s and even though he still has his mother’s eyes, bright blue and for sure the cause of future heartbreaks, it’s his smile that captures all my attention—a smile just like his father’s.
I squat down so we’re eye to eye and hold up a finger. He nods enthusiastically, an uncontrollable burst of laughter filtering out of him. I point to him, then I rub his belly, making him laugh harder. He nods again, and I do the same when he points to mine.
Behind me, Josh says, “I think they’re hungry, Ma.” And just like that, we fall into step, Tommy by my side.
Ella says, peeking over her shoulder, “I made fried pickles, Becca. I heard they were you’re favorite.”
“Silly Nanni!” Tommy shouts. “Becca thinks fried pickles taste like poop!”
Josh chuckles as he stops at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for us to pass. Once we have, he walks next to us, his hand on the small of my back, mine wrapped around Tommy’s, and for a second, just one, I almost let love mean something.
* * *
Josh and his mother speak throughout dinner. They talk about Grams for a while and then discuss business. Against his mom’s wishes, Josh tells her to cancel his appearances for the next week. I shift uncomfortably when she mentions Chris and tells Josh that he won’t be happy, that he won’t understand, to which Josh tells her that he’ll have to deal with it.
Tommy talks to himself, and sometimes his food, promising to save some of his pasta shells as pets. He names one Shelly, another one Doofus, and another one Poop. Occasionally, I see Josh watching me, but I don’t make eye contact. I can’t. So I sit and I listen to three generations of Wardens and I ignore the fact that I’d never felt more at home, more accepted, more at peace than I do this very moment.
When dinner’s done, Josh and his mom clean up while Tommy takes me to his room and shows me all his new things—things that weren’t here two years ago. Toys, iPads, new clothes, an abundance of skateboards, and the holy grail of camera gear better than mine. My jaw drops as I practically fall to my knees, my eyes wide in shock. “Chris bought him all that for his birthday and Christmas. He spoils the shit out of him,” Josh says, leaning against the doorframe.
“Naughty word, Daddy!” Tommy shouts.
“Sorry, bud.” Josh moves to sit on Tommy’s bed and looks up at me. “He’s only now starting to understand how to use it all.”
I grab my phone out of my pocket and have Cordy to say, “He’s into photography?”
Josh laughs as Tommy removes the lens from the body and replaces it with another. “Yeah. More than he’s into skating, actually.”
Moments of silence pass while Tommy attaches an action-stabilizing handle to the camera. “Tommy doesn’t travel to my comps with me anymore, but he goes to the demo video shoots. He gets right in there and films it all.”
I sit down next to him and show him my phone. Is he any good?
Josh bites down on his bottom lip and shakes his head, his eyes wide. “Horrible,” he mouths, and I laugh a silent laugh. Then he says, “It’s getting late, Tommy. Time for bed.”
“Noooooooooooooo!” Tommy yells, but he’s already opening the drawers and pic
king out his pajamas. “Is Becca having a sleepover in your room like last time?”
Josh looks at me, his eyebrows raised in question, and the only thing I can do is stare back. “No. But you’ll see Becca tomorrow, okay? Promise.”
I leave the room while Josh helps Tommy change, noting that the house is empty which means Ella’s left, and return only when Tommy calls for me. He’s lying in his bed, his arms outstretched. “Good night, Becs!”
I give him a hug, smiling when he kisses my cheek. Then he starts to talk again, about anything and everything, doing whatever he can to prolong my stay. Josh’s hands find my waist, pulling me back. “Okay, bud. Lights out. Good night.”
Tommy yawns loudly. “Night, Daddy.”
Josh guides me out of the room and starts closing the door behind us, but Tommy yells, “Daddy, you forgot to do it!”
Josh’s shoulders tense, his eyes locked on mine. Then he faces Tommy and touches his finger to his nose and then to his chest. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, Daddy,” Tommy says as Josh turns to me, his eyes distant while he mouths what must be Tommy’s routine words, “And I love Nanni and Ma’am and Mommy and Justin and Aunt Kimmy and Uncle Robby and Aunt Chloe and Uncle Hunt,”—Tommy takes a breath as Josh steps closer to me—“And most of all, I love My Becca.”
My stomach flips, my heart… I can’t even explain it.
I don’t know how long we stand there, a foot apart, his eyes never leaving mine. But it’s too long. Or maybe not long enough. He’s the first to break, looking away when he says, “You don’t have any bags.”
I don’t know if it’s a question or a statement, but I nod anyway.
“You um… you left some clothes here from…” His voice fades as he spins around and walks the few steps to his bedroom. I ignore the voices in my head telling me that I shouldn’t follow, that I shouldn’t let him close the door after me. “They’re in my closet,” he says, but he makes no move to get them. Instead, he just stands there, staring at me like he did outside Tommy’s room. I can feel the heat creeping into my cheeks, the sweat forming on my palms, the beating of my heart crashing against my chest. The air is thick. My breaths are shallow as I finally get my feet to function and move around him to get to his closet. His bedroom’s changed since I’ve been in it last, the floor covered with boxes stacked three or four high, filled with brand new t-shirts, all sealed in plastic, sponsors’ logos printed on them.