“Seneca! Oh my God, are you okay? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Kate dropped to her knees and pulled her into her arms. Seneca struggled against the arms restraining her at first, desperately trying to get away from the blow she knew was sure to come. She couldn’t get away though. She was held too tightly and she hurt too much. But the blow never came, and she heard gentle reassurances, not angry yelling. It was Kate trying to comfort her.
“I’m going to get you off the floor okay? Just relax for me. I’ll have you back on the table in a second, and then I’ll look at your leg.”
Although Seneca tried to focus on Kate’s face as she was lifted effortlessly from the floor, the pain was overwhelming. Kate collected the hot pack and set it next to Seneca’s leg but didn’t put it back on.
“I’m going to have to take a look at your leg, Seneca. I’m going to try to avoid hurting you. Tell me if I’m doing too much.”
“It’s okay,” Seneca managed to gasp, turning on her side and pulling her left leg to her body, instinctively curling into the fetal position, but not daring to move her right leg at all. “It will pass…be fine…give me a minute.”
Seneca was vaguely aware of Kate settling on the table near her head. She was hypersensitive to people in her personal space so she felt Kate’s hand move toward her back, as if to rub it, then stop just before making contact.
After what felt like a lifetime, Seneca finally managed to stretch back out and slowly sit up. Her face felt hollow, like it always did when the pain became overwhelming. She saw the guilt and remorse on Kate’s face and was embarrassed by her reaction. She’d had plenty of people explain to her why she was so jumpy and why any unexpected touch created the panic that surged uncontrollably, but she was still ashamed when others saw her so weak.
“I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to do that to you,” Seneca said, wanting to erase the sadness in Kate’s eyes. It wasn’t her fault that Seneca was so screwed up. “What are these?” Seneca picked up one of the pairs of pants, the only one that hadn’t landed on the floor when she jerked awake.
“Don’t you dare apologize to me. You told me you didn’t like to be touched. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”
Seneca struggled to smile, her body still shaky from the jolt of adrenaline and pain. “Truce then, no more apologies.” Seneca held the pants, shaking, waiting for an answer.
Kate still didn’t look convinced she should stop apologizing, but she relented. “They’re pants. Your pants, actually. I thought it would be easier to get them for you than wait until we both had a free moment to go shopping. Besides, this was a new and exciting challenge for my wife.”
Seneca raised her eyebrows in question, still not completely sure her stomach wouldn’t rebel if she opened her mouth.
“She loves to shop. She takes special pride in being able to shop for anyone and not only get clothes they would like, but also get their size perfect. I described you, and she did her magic.”
Seneca thought they looked close enough; she had probably worn worse even if they were a little off in size. Seneca couldn’t get a great look at them since her arms were shaking so badly she didn’t dare hold them out. She had looked weak enough in front of Kate and was still going to have to ask for her help to get home. She laid her head back with a sigh and tried to gently flex her leg. The pain returned and took her breath away.
The swift intake of breath was clearly audible in the quiet room. Kate looked down at Seneca with a no-nonsense look of concern. Whatever she was about to say wasn’t for show. “You’re welcome to come home with me tonight. My wife and I would be happy to have you. I’ll be honest. I’m a little worried about you.”
Seneca averted her eyes, touched that Kate would offer, but also ashamed she appeared so weak that Kate would think she couldn’t manage on her own. “I’m fine. Well, I will be. This happens sometimes. I’m probably going to need your help getting home though.” Seneca figured her face was giving away every emotion. She was conflicted about Kate’s offer but also deeply embarrassed about having to admit needing Kate’s help.
Seneca could see Kate was a little conflicted too. Or perhaps lost was a better descriptor. Maybe her wife was better at dealing with a puddle of pain.
“Is there someone you would rather I call?”
The pain made her feel so drained even shaking her head was a hardship. She was already dreading having to explain to Britt why she couldn’t walk. Dylan’s face flashed in her mind, but she pushed it away. She didn’t want anyone, especially Dylan, to see her like this. “No, but if you don’t mind getting me home, I’d appreciate it.”
Kate nodded and indicated Seneca should stay put while she gathered her belongings.
“There’s nothing for you to be ashamed of, Seneca,” Kate said softly as she approached the treatment table again. This time she moved slowly and alerted Seneca to her presence.
Seneca jerked again, this time because of Kate’s words. She kept her eyes closed, but she knew Kate had seen her reaction. After a moment, when it became clear she wasn’t going to answer and Kate didn’t push her to, she opened her eyes and sat up slowly. Her injured leg felt as though it had a fifty-pound weight attached to it. Thankfully, the excruciating pain had been reduced to a dull ache, but she knew from experience she wouldn’t be able to put weight on it yet.
She hated that she needed to lean so heavily on Kate to make her way out of the training room. She thought about the last time her leg had flared up this badly, when she had been completely alone. She had crawled and hopped back to where she needed to be, so emotionally and physically drained that she didn’t get out of bed for days after. She wondered if it would be different this time. Now she had people to lean on, at least as much as she would allow, both literally and figuratively. She hated the thought, but Kate’s help and reassuring words were comforting. Is it weak to allow someone to help you? She couldn’t think enough to answer. The pain was too great.
Chapter Seven
Dylan tapped her pen unconsciously on her desk, the incessant rhythm drawing annoyed stares. Her attention was focused on the door to the small classroom. All day she’d been looking forward to Ancient Inventions, and every time she asked herself why, a pleasant fluttering in her stomach accompanied the memory of Seneca King.
There was something alluring about Seneca. She was incredibly good-looking, her face and body lean and angular, but Dylan was drawn more to the parts of Seneca she couldn’t see and didn’t understand. It wasn’t her weakness that drew her; in fact, it was her strength in the face of a certainly difficult past. Seneca was no doubt guarded, but she was also warm, intelligent, and tender. Dylan couldn’t help it if she was attracted to the school’s beautiful recluse. Besides, the wild rumors couldn’t all be true, and given that, it was sort of like being attracted to a movie star, one who had played a wide variety of exciting, dashing, sometimes unsavory characters. Like a hot, female, swashbuckling pirate captain of the high seas.
Although she had only met her twice, Dylan didn’t get the feeling Seneca was the type to be late anywhere. She seemed too controlled. As the minutes ticked by and class was about to begin, she became worried. Realizing she had no idea where Seneca lived or how to contact her, Dylan began the pen tapping in earnest. Something didn’t feel right. The fact that she was so distraught was confusing, but was comforting at the same time. It was nice to care about someone, especially since she had lost a lot of what she cared about at Sophia since returning from her time abroad.
Two minutes before class was to begin, the professor strolled through the door, her arms filled to capacity with books, posters, and a laptop. She wasn’t known for her organizational skills. Dylan sighed and took one final look at the door, resigned to the notion that Seneca wasn’t coming. Following close on the professor’s heels and stopping now and again to scoop up an item that had made a daring escape from the tangle in the professor’s arms, was a woman Dylan had never seen before. Sh
e didn’t think there was a TA for the class.
Dylan studied her carefully, noting her short stature, shoulder-length black hair, and calm brown eyes. Those same eyes lit with recognition when they met Dylan’s, and she started toward her, hand held out in greeting.
“You must be Bob.”
Dylan’s stomach flipped with pleasure. Seneca was the only one to call her that.
“Yes, or so Seneca has named me. It’s actually Dylan. Are you a friend of hers?”
“Dylan, nice to meet you. I’m Britt, and yes, I’m a friend of Seneca’s. She asked me to give you this and apologize for not being able to attend class this afternoon.”
Britt started to go after handing her a wrinkly note on a torn out piece of lined notebook paper, but Dylan pulled her back.
“Is she okay?”
Britt hesitated and glanced around at the people watching them. She jerked her head toward the door and quickly exited the classroom. Dylan was hot on her heels.
“She’s okay. She asked me to give you that,” Britt said once they were out of the room. She nodded at the note clutched in Dylan’s hands.
“If she’s so okay, where is she? And why did you motion me out here if she is really okay?” Dylan asked skeptically.
Britt raised her eyebrows at the note again, clearly wanting Dylan to read it and let her escape the twenty questions.
Dylan held up a finger, silently asking Britt to wait while she read it.
Bob,
I didn’t want you to think I was avoiding you after dinner the other night. I had a wonderful time. It will be a night I remember fondly.—Seneca
Dylan looked up, confused, but she was alone. Britt was nowhere to be seen. Dylan glanced back at the note, feeling sick at the finality she read there. Seneca was either very ill and wouldn’t be back for a long time, or she had effectively ended any chance at a repeat of their dinner together. Dylan didn’t like either option. She made a decision quickly, raced back into the classroom, made a lame excuse about not feeling well, grabbed her backpack, and sprinted out of the building. She scanned the area, looking for Britt. The campus was quiet, most of the students already in their morning classes. She spotted Britt and ran to catch up.
“I don’t accept,” Dylan said, pulling to a stop next to Britt.
“Accept what?” Britt asked. She looked startled to see Dylan by her side, flushed and breathing heavily.
“This,” Dylan said, waving the note. “I’m taking it back to Seneca and telling her I don’t accept.”
Britt didn’t seem to know what to do. “I’m not sure this is up for debate. Besides, I’m just the delivery woman. She asked me to deliver the note, not bring you back.”
“Right, that’s why I need you to tell me where she is,” Dylan said.
“She’s not really up to seeing anyone right now.”
“She saw you.” Dylan wasn’t sure why it was so important to see Seneca. Maybe it was because the note scared her. Since she’d returned from Australia, the weight of the expectations in her life were stifling, but Seneca had provided a moment of grounding, and Dylan was desperate not to lose that. She thought Seneca had had a good time, the note said she did, so she was confused at the way it seemed to shut down their new friendship altogether.
“I live with her,” Britt said. “She has to see me, although I don’t know if she even wanted me around, to be honest.”
“Oh,” Dylan said coolly, a surge of jealousy in her gut. So that’s why she doesn’t want anything more to do with me. Why does it matter?
“Shit,” Britt said under her breath, looking highly uncomfortable. “Why do you want to see her? If it’s to yell and scream and tell her what a jerk she is, forget it. She already knows and I’m not going to let you.” Britt held Dylan’s gaze, seemingly challenging her to tell the truth.
Dylan suddenly remembered where she and Seneca had first met and looked at Britt with horror. “You don’t mind her sleeping with other people?”
Britt looked completely caught off guard, obviously not expecting Dylan to answer her question with another.
“She’s an adult, and I’m not her mother. Why would I care?”
“I wouldn’t want to share her,” Dylan said quietly, not wanting to offend Britt but knowing that wasn’t the kind of relationship she could ever enter into.
“Answer my question and then I’ll answer yours a little more precisely,” Britt said, the challenge back in her voice.
“I don’t want to yell at her. I would never yell at her, and I don’t think she’s a jerk at all. Rumors are just rumors. I only deal in facts, and she’s been nothing but wonderful to me. I want to ask her about this.” Dylan held the note up again, this time feeling more defeated. She didn’t know why she was fighting so hard to see a woman who was quite possibly not into seeing her again. “I really enjoyed having dinner with her the other night. We just had dinner, by the way. Nothing happened. If you two are together then you should know that. I know she goes down to the bar, but it might be different if it’s with someone on campus. I was hoping we could be friends, and I’m confused what this means and I want to make sure she’s okay. You aren’t really convincing me that she is.”
Britt sighed, not looking at all happy. She motioned Dylan to follow. “Be gentle with her. She has her reasons for being how she is and she’s feeling very vulnerable today. That’s not the best time to bring up these kind of issues.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “Hopefully, she won’t be too pissed off with me. Don’t make me regret this.”
Dylan nodded, planning what she wanted to say. She didn’t know what she wanted from Seneca. Definitely the chance at friendship, but she wasn’t sure about anything else. It would help if Seneca weren’t so damned good-looking. And charming. And, well, all the other stuff.
Britt led the way silently up the stairs at Razor House and stopped outside a fourth floor room. She took a deep breath, clearly steeling herself.
“Hang out here a second. Let me warn her you’re here.” Britt went inside and closed the door behind her.
Dylan bounced lightly from foot to foot, not knowing what to expect.
“Oh,” Britt said, sticking her head back out the door, “we’re not together, just roommates. I thought you might want to know that.”
“You could have led with that,” Dylan said testily, struggling to keep Britt from seeing just how happy the news made her.
She paced in the hall as she listened to Britt’s muted voice announcing her presence. Another voice, one barely recognizable as Seneca’s, answered and quickly grew louder with anger. Doesn’t sound like she’s happy I’m here.
A few minutes later, Britt poked her head out again and gave Dylan a sad smile. “I didn’t think this was a good idea. She said she’ll see you in class in a couple days.”
“Why?” Dylan asked, unnerved by the worry etched across Britt’s face.
“She, she said…”
“If there’s no good reason, then let me in.” Dylan took a step closer, determined. She knew she had no right to demand entry and wasn’t even sure why it mattered so much. She was worried, probably more than she should be, considering she had only spent a few hours with Seneca. There was just something about her that had gotten under Dylan’s skin, and she was desperate to see her again, if for no other reason than to assure her own wild imagination that she was okay.
Britt sighed, looked back into the room, and stepped out of the way.
Dylan fought back a gasp when she entered the room. Seneca was lying on her bed, spread limply on the sheets. Her right leg was propped up on two pillows, although she shifted uncomfortably every few seconds. She looked at Dylan and her eyes weren’t the same as the ones she remembered from their time at dinner. They had, at times, looked haunted and hollow, but today they looked dead. There was no sparkle at all, nothing to distinguish deep brown iris from dark black pupil. Her skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and she looked drawn.
&n
bsp; Recognition fluttered briefly in Seneca’s eyes, but her expression didn’t change, as if the effort it took to breathe and lie still had sapped every useful bit of energy she contained.
Dylan drew nearer, holding up her hand to halt Seneca’s attempt to sit up. But she ignored Dylan and got unsteadily to her feet, obviously trying to avoid putting any weight on her damaged leg. She lost her balance as she reached for her cane and was forced to place some weight on her leg. She stifled a cry and started to fall. Dylan rushed forward and caught Seneca before she hit the ground. Dylan felt Seneca tense and struggle against her, but she held tight, because if she didn’t, Seneca would hit the floor.
Britt was near her desk, but Seneca had already waved her away.
“Seneca, it’s just me, Bob. We’re both going down to the floor, okay?”
Dylan made sure Seneca was safely on the ground before she let go. Seneca pulled away immediately and skittered a few feet away, her eyes wild, her body drawn into itself. She looked feral. Dylan had never seen anything quite like it. Whatever had, and continued, to cause Seneca this much pain was something she wasn’t sure she could break through. She wanted to hug away Seneca’s troubles, but she figured wrapping her in a hug wouldn’t be welcome. She settled for poking her gently on the bottom of her sneaker, on the good leg.
“You okay?” Dylan asked. The pain and fear looked like it was squeezing the life out of her. “Do you want help getting your shoes off? Doesn’t seem like you need them in bed.”
Seneca Falls Page 5