by Amelia LeFay
“Speak for yourself,” Jane said, now sitting on the opposite side of me. She took my hand before saying, “I always look good. Your eyesight isn’t doing well right now.”
Inhaling felt like I had swallowed glass. I wanted to say something, but all the words that came to mind seemed subpar at best.
“Never again,” Wes said with his eyes dropping. He looked like he’d lost weight and his whole body was shaking. He looked at the ceiling and blinked a few times.
Jane was just as bad. Once again, just like the day I’d gone to pick them up—which only felt like yesterday to me—I was in awe of them.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Idiot.” Jane bit her lip. “Don’t be sorry. Just be alive.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” Wes nodded again.
DAY TWO
The first day I was awake, I was so shocked, amazed, and grateful to be alive, grateful that they were both there, that I didn’t really think of myself much. The second day, I learned a couple things. I learned that my story, both of the scandal and me being awake, was all anyone could talk about on the news. It left me with a sense of pride, which got me through the second piece of news I was currently hearing.
“You’ve broken bones in both legs and have substantial nerve damage,” my doctor explained to me and my mother as she stood right beside me. Jane and Wes had gone home earlier, though only because I’d begged them to. They looked just as bad as I felt. “However, bones can heal, so that isn’t the problem.”
“What is this problem?” my mother asked for me.
“You have what we call an incomplete spinal cord injury,” he replied, pulling up a chair beside me. “Now what that means is you do not have total paralysis or loss of sensation, and your spinal cord was not totally damaged or disrupted. This means there are better chances of additional recovery, but I want you to prepare for the long haul. It will get worse before it will get better.”
“What do you mean?” How could it get worse?
“Physically, your brain knows how to walk and how to function. When the body doesn’t respond, it can be frustrating. There may be times when you try to move on your own and fall. You will need around the clock care for the first few months, a live-in nurse, if you chose to hire someone, for your rehabilitation. We must also take into consideration that phantom pains and mood swings are common. There is…there is also the chance you won’t walk again.”
After that I just stopped listening to him.
When I was nine, my grandfather lived with us. He’d lost his ability to walk when he was in his twenties, and that was the start of the ‘Emerson curse’, as Irene loved to call it, how Emersons ruined everything around us because of our own greed. The story went that my grandfather had slept with another man’s wife, and that man had shot him in the back. He’d always fall getting out of his wheelchair, and being the little shit I was, I’d just watch him. I thought that what he got was because he was also a jerk to everyone including my mother. He’d throw things and curse at the maids; it was like he hated living and made sure everyone else around him did too.
“Maxwell.”
I glanced up at my mother, who smiled gently and brushed back my hair. “Whatever you’re thinking, get it out of your head. You’re going to be fine. I know you. You’re far too stubborn to let this stop you.”
“Yeah.”
DAY THREE
“Ah!” I cried out, grabbing the sheets.
“Max? What is it?”
“Don’t touch me!” I screamed, breathing in through my nose, trying to fight the pain in my left leg. It felt like someone was trying to cut it off. “AHFF! AHH!”
Wes called out, but I couldn’t think about anything other than the pain.
“It hurts. It fucking hurts! Make it stop! Please!”
“Max, hold on. The morphine will kick in soon,” one of the doctors said, and I wanted to give him the definition of ‘soon’.
It felt like hours before the pain disappeared, but I couldn’t bear to open my eyes. I just lay there breathing in and out, forcing myself to go to sleep.
“He’s been in pain all day,” Jane whispered.
“It could have been any number of things, but you need to understand he’s going to be in pain for a while. All we can do is manage it.”
The door opened and closed.
“Just manage it?” Wes sighed, sitting beside me. “I hate seeing him like this, Jane.”
He hated it? What about me?
He was supposed to be getting discharged and being the sap that I was, I actually considered getting him a flower—not a whole bouquet, just a single rose. However, I knew he’d complain. Instead, I made him a burger. He’d been bitching about hospital food…well, he’d been bitching about almost everything, but the food was the only thing I could fix. Jane, on the other hand, got him a teddy bear saying that he could at least beat the shit out of it when he was pissed.
“Here we go.” Jane breathed deeply.
“Max…” I started to say when we got to his room, but he wasn’t there. It was just his nurse remaking the bed he should have been on.
“Mr. Uhler and Ms. Chapman.” She turned toward us, but not before picking up two letters. “Mr. Emerson wanted me to give these to you.”
We stared at the letters but didn’t take them. “Where is he?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “He said to give these to you, and he discharged himself.”
I dropped the burger on the table near the door and tore open the letter, partially confused—after all, who the hell still wrote letters by hand? Why hadn’t he called?
Dear Wes,
You’re probably wondering why I didn’t call or text, but I also know you enjoy things like this. It takes more effort than writing a simple email, right? Jane once told me that by saying sorry, it would make someone calmer even if they were upset. Apologizing still has an impact. So, I want to tell you I’m sorry in so many ways for just leaving like this. I tried. I really did, but the thought of going through this with both you and Jane beside me didn’t make me feel better. It actually made me feel sick. Sick to know that I’d snap at you for no reason. Sick to know I’d be jealous every time I saw you walk from one end of the room to another. Sick enough to be so miserable that I’d only make the both of you miserable, too.
I’m not breaking up with you, so don’t even go there. You belong to me…and Jane. The fact that I’m a selfish prick doesn’t change that. I just need to work through this. I don’t know how long that will take, but know I’m thinking about the both of you.
Yours,
Maxwell Emerson.
PS. The rule about not being with Jane unless we are all there…we hit pause on that. You and Jane should be together.
Even to the end, he was still a selfish little shite.
“Break-up letter?”
I turned to see Jane leaning against the door just looking at me. Her letter was still unopened in her hands. She smiled sadly and her hazel eyes never left mine.
“Maxwell’s version of a ‘wait for me’ letter,” I told her.
“If there aren’t three of us, there is none of us…” She seemed to be asking, and I wanted to tell her. I wanted to tell her we’d just wait, but I couldn’t. Maybe I was in shock. I just stared back at her.
“It was fun,” she said, kissing my cheek. “We were fun. Thank you.”
“Jane, let’s just go and—”
“Draw this out?” She shook her head. “It’s better to just rip the bandage off and stop where he stopped.”
“Where are you going to go?”
“Wes, I’m giving you a way out. No hard feelings. No trying to explain to me how it isn’t working. Just do what I know you want to do right now.”
Kissing her one last time, she didn’t kiss me back. Was it me or did she feel cold? I wasn’t sure, but it was different now. Running my hands through my hair, I tried to fight back the headache forming. I tried to deny the
fact that I was relieved…relieved I could just run away from all of this.
“I’m sorry; if you need anything call me. Stay in Max’s place—”
“Go, Wes.”
Kissing her forehead one more time, I walked out of the room. I thought I was fine. I thought I was prepared for anything…so why was I shaking so much?
And just as quickly as we started, we were over.
Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the very thing that even a dirty Mary Poppins would be disappointed with.
“The IUD, TCI, TVR, the patch, and the injection…and I went with the pill,” I whispered to myself, staring at the positive pregnancy test in my hand. “Nice one, Jane.”
To Be Continued…
Thank you all for reading. Please rate, share, and review! I truly hope you enjoyed the beginning of Jane, Max, and Wesley’s romance!
Book Two, The Anatomy of Us, will hopefully be out in the fall or winter of 2016!