Jenkins and the Naughty Nurse: A Beyond Series Off-shoot

by Ashley Logan

  "That is another option." Scooping ice-cream into my own mouth, I drop the spoon into the tub and run a hand through my hair. "It'd give you the day to clean up."

  "I might not finish in time. You could pick him up," she suggests, digging the spoon into the ice-cream and holding it out to me. "He likes spending time with you too."

  Avoiding her eyes, I take the ice-cream quickly. Having difficulty swallowing it, I clear my throat and nod.

  "I could do that."

  "Thank you." She moves in to kiss me and I lean away.

  I don't know why I feel so angry about her trying to kiss me, but I unclench my jaw and clear my throat again.

  "A thank you is enough. You don't need to do that."

  She sits up quickly, setting the ice-cream on the counter with a thud. "And if I want to?"

  Squeezing my eyes shut for a short moment, I look around. "I'm not sure that you know what you want, and I don't want to confuse the situation with what I want."

  "What do you want?"

  "You. Ryan. The three of us together. I want to care for you properly, not off and on, or in secret. All the time."

  "But you don't want to kiss me?"

  "Of course I want to kiss you! I just don't believe you want to kiss me!"

  "Well I do!"

  "Yeah, now. What about tomorrow? Next week? Next year? Will you still want to then?"

  "I don't know. Are you going to be pissing me off then too? I've changed my mind about kissing you now, by the way."

  Groaning, I throw my head back and stare at the ceiling. This is not the right time for any of this. The microwave says it's nearly five.

  "We should go to bed," I suggest, grabbing the ice-cream and throwing it back in the freezer.

  "I'm not sharing a bed with you," she says in a grump.

  "I didn't invite you to!"

  Wheeling her to the door opposite where Ryan is sleeping, I fold my arms, almost nudging her off balance. "You can get off me now."

  "Gladly." Climbing off me, she switches on the light and hugs herself as she looks at the spare bed.

  Wheeling away before she can ask questions about the distinctly feminine bedlinen, or get any angrier at me, I enter my room and shut the door. I pull myself back into bed and yank the blankets up as I let out a huge sigh. I thought her turning up was a good sign, but I'm not sure if Stace will ever really trust me and I'm not sure what else I can do.

  And I don't want to think about it over, and over, as I lie here awake and angry.

  It'd taken me hours to get to sleep before she'd turned up to kick my door down, and I doubt I'll get any more sleep before the sun comes up. Eyeballing my heavy curtains as if I might destroy them if they dare let any sunlight in, I click off my lamp and sigh again as I relax into the bed.

  Closing my eyes, I ignore the shit swirling around my brain and pretend I'm already asleep. I've done that before and been pleasantly surprised when I've woken up hours later, so it's worth a shot. It's much too late to take a sedative.

  Some time later, I wake to find Stacey in my bed. I'm not sure when she must have come sneaking in, but the faint light provided by a tiny gap in the curtains is enough to make out her closed eyes and relaxed features. As I listen to her breathing, I'm convinced she's deeply asleep, so it must have been some time ago.

  Shifting my legs, I curl in behind, looping my arm around and holding her close before closing my eyes again. Whatever was said or unsaid doesn't matter anymore.

  MY EARS PRICK UP WHEN I hear a noise behind me and my eyes fly open as Ryan climbs onto the bed. Blinking at him as his face looms over me, I smile and hold my finger to my lips. His eyes travel over his mom's face and he nods, smiling too.

  I gesture for him to keep quiet and that I'll get up. Sliding back off the bed, he watches as I carefully extract myself from Stace without disturbing her. Pulling the covers back over her, I transfer to my chair and follow Ry out the door, closing it behind us.

  "Your bed is big!" he exclaims quietly as I direct him to the open plan kitchen.

  "Well I'm a big guy, so it just makes sense," I say with a shrug, wondering where the conversation is going to go.

  "Sometimes Mom falls asleep in my bed when she's reading stories. It's not really big enough though. Your bed would work better."

  "Hmm. You're probably right. I think your mom is super tired so we should let her sleep for a bit longer."

  Glancing at the microwave clock, I groan. It's already well after ten.

  "Your mom thought you might want to go to school today, but I think we've missed half the morning already. You must have been tired too huh?"

  Ry shrugs. "I woke up a while ago. I've just been playing with your toys. I didn't know you had a skateboard."

  Scratching the stubble on my cheek, I cast an assessing eye over him. "You were playing on that?"

  Shaking his head, Ry pulls out one of the kitchen chairs and pokes at the duct tape covering the seat. Looking under the chair, he tests it carefully, then bounces on it a little. Satisfied it won't break, he studies the other chairs.

  "Your furniture is cool," he says, moving on to the next one. "Mom won't let me have a skateboard, but I like watching them down at the park. It looks fun." His head comes back above the table and he rocks on the uneven chair he's sitting on. "Is it fun?"

  "Well, I haven't done it in a while, but yeah. It was pretty fun. I use a special chair to take ramps or ride the pipe now."

  Ry's eyes go wide. "Can I do that?"

  "Um, you'd have to ask your mom, but I don't think she'll want me taking you riding on that chair. It's how I broke my leg before."

  Studying my leg a moment, Ry looks back to my face. "But it's all better now. Apart from those red bits," he says, pointing to the scars where the pins used to be.

  "Yeah, I think it's the fact that I broke it in the first place that will be her concern. She won't want that to happen to you. Me either. It would hurt you a lot. But we can ask her if I can teach you how to use the skateboard. You've got a helmet right? Didn't I see a bike in the garage where we were painting?"

  "That's mom's old bike," he says with a huff as he crosses his arms.

  "You don't have a bike?"

  He shakes his head.

  Sighing, I look over my shoulder to the empty hallway. "Okay. We'll work on that too. But you'll have to work hard at being safe, because if you hurt yourself, she's going to get mad at me and she only just started sort of maybe liking me a little bit, some of the time."

  Ry razzes his lips. "She likes you all the time."

  "Well I want her to love me, so I can't go round mucking it up by getting you all hurt or whatever. What are we eating for breakfast? Pancakes?"

  Ry grins. "Again?"

  "Why not? They taste awesome. Pancakes twice in a week won't kill us. And now that we're in my kitchen, we have bacon and syrup instead of only raspberry jelly. You want to help make them this time?"

  Off his seat in seconds, he comes to bounce next to me. "What do I do?"

  Several laughs, flour clouds and batter splatters later, I help Ry flip the last pancake and turn to see Stace slip quietly into a seat at the table, while watching us. Clearing my throat, I set Ry back on the ground and nod behind us. Looking over his shoulder he grins.

  "Morning Mom! We made pancakes!"

  "I see," she says, opening her arms to hug him as he nears. He almost dwarfs her as she pulls him up onto her lap to continue the cuddle. "And I smelled the bacon. Were you careful near the hot pan?" she asks eying the Band-Aid on his finger.

  Ry looks at his finger and turns back to me with a worried look.

  "Don't worry bud, we're not in trouble." Running my tongue over my teeth, I nod at her hands. "Your mom knows accidents happen sometimes and are part of learning to live in the world. Each time you get a little hurt, you learn what not to do next time. Right?"

  Turning back to Stace, Ryan loops one arm around her neck and holds up his finger. "You should not touch the p
an when someone tells you it is hot. They mean that it is hot. But if you do, you can help your burn by holding it under cold water. It will feel burn-y if you stick it in warm water, but the cold water makes the hot feel go away. If it's a really bad burn, you should hold it under for a lot longer; but not too long 'cause it can make your skin go too soggy and stop it from healing good."

  "Well," Stace corrects him. "Stop it from healing well. What else has Bradley Allen Jenkins been teaching you?" she asks with a coy smile.

  Ry thinks on it for a moment before replying. "Brad says that pancakes twice a week won't kill us, but that we should probably not eat them every day."

  He says it in a way that almost demands his mother share her opinion on the matter.

  "He is probably right," Stace says, smiling again as she hugs Ry. "Good to know he's teaching you such wonderful things too." Her eyes meet mine as I bring the food to the table and I feel my cheeks heat.

  "Will you say the same when I ask you about teaching him to ride a skateboard, or a bike?" I ask carefully, showing Ry my crossed fingers.

  Stacey's smile drops and I wince.

  "I promise we'll be very careful and I won't do flips in my chair, or teach him anything like that."

  "Why not flips?" Ry asks, climbing out of Stace's lap and into the chair next to her. "That would be so cool!"

  "That was how I broke my leg!" I reply in the same tone as him. "No flipping. It's dangerous."

  "How come you did it then?" he asks, and Stacey's smile comes back as she leans in to join her son.

  "Yeah, Brad. How come?"

  Sighing, I serve up the pancakes, cutting Ry's into bite-size pieces before tossing on some bacon and drizzling syrup over it all before setting it in front of him.

  "Because it used to make me feel good about myself when I pulled it off, and I wasn't thinking about what would happen if I got hurt, or that anyone else might get hurt by my actions. Things are different now. I won't be doing it again."

  "Different how?" Ry asks through his mouthful as he loads up his fork with more.

  "Slow down, buddy. They're not going anywhere. Smaller bites."

  "Different how?" Stace repeats, appearing thoroughly amused by the whole scene as she pours her syrup.

  Giving her a flat stare, I bite a crispy strip of bacon and chew it slowly.

  "Things are different now because I want to set a good example for my man Ryan, and impress his mom by showing her how responsible I can be. Life-threatening activities are obviously not the best way to do that. I want to make sure I'm around to enjoy you guys, because you're what makes me feel good these days."

  Ry leans over to Stace and whispers, "Brad called me a man."

  "He called you his man; meaning he's fond of you. But yes, you are a small man. One day you'll be a lot bigger though."

  Ryan beams. "Will I be as big as Brad?"

  Stacey's eyes run over my arms and chest from the other side of the table. "I don't know honey. It sort of depends on your parents. Brad's mom is a tall lady and your mom's kinda short. We'll just have to wait and see."

  "Well what about my dad?" he asks, slumping in his chair. "Is he little too?"

  Stacey looks decidedly uncomfortable.

  "No. He's not as big as Brad, but he's not little. It doesn't even matter. Lots of kids grow much bigger than their parents. Like I said, we'll just have to wait and see."

  "Drink your milk," I say, winking as I nudge it towards him. "It'll help."

  Sighing, he takes the milk and finishes it in one go. "Was your dad tall?" he asks me, swinging his legs back and forth so they kick the table leg.

  "Yeah, he was pretty tall. I was taller than him when I turned seventeen though. It's as your mom says. You won't know how big you'll be until you stop growing. You'll probably stand taller than me by the time you're ten, if it makes you feel any better."

  "Only 'cause you're sitting down."

  "Yeah, well. Standing isn't really an option, so I'll still be sitting on my ass when you're ten. Eat your pancakes and quit making your mom feel bad about being little. I like her that size."

  Ry assesses his mom with renewed interest as she pushes her glasses up her nose and continues to eat her pancakes quietly as if her cheeks aren't glowing a brilliant crimson.

  Turning back to me, Ry gives me a nod and starts collecting pancake and bacon onto his fork again. "I think she likes your size too."

  The laughter snorts out of me when I can't contain it. With a mortified expression, Stace tries to kick me under the table. I don't feel her connect, only see her face when her toes crunch, which only makes me laugh harder.

  Jumping up from the table, she hobbles around to get me, so I wheel away, hiding behind Ry, who is laughing his head off too - not that he really knows why!

  "Quit it!" Stace cries, unable to keep herself from smiling as she lunges at me, trying to cover my mouth. "Quit laughing at me!"

  Grabbing her hand, I twist her around to fall into my lap, lean her back and kiss her gorgeous smile that I haven't seen in way too long. She kisses me back. Hungrily. I deepen the kiss, wanting to give her anything she wants, but as my hand runs through her hair, she suddenly stiffens and wriggles out of my grasp.

  Breathing heavily, she looks to Ry. I look too, hoping I haven't overstepped some sort of 'kissing in front of a kid' etiquette or some shit.

  He's grinning like a mad man.

  "Does this mean Brad's my dad now?" he asks, seeming very excited at the prospect. "Katie Weinstien says that moms and dads kiss all the time. I only ever saw Brad kissing your head when you were sad, or sleeping, but you just kissed him real good. Can he be my dad even though he's not a doctor? Because you said my dad's a doctor, and Katie Weinstien says that her mom and dad play doctors and nurses, so I know how it all works."

  Clutching the edge of the table, he eagerly awaits our response.

  Clearing her throat, Stace adjusts her glasses and sits all the way up. "Um..."

  "This Katie Weinstien really knows her stuff, huh?" I laugh when Stace elbows my arm off my armrest.

  "Um..." she begins again.

  I throw my head back and snore loudly, making Ry giggle. It earns me another elbow; to the chest this time.

  "The thing is, Ry," I say, leaning forward. "I'm super keen to be your dad, but your mom's still making up her mind on whether or not I'm up to the job. However," I state, raising my finger as Stace starts to object, "Your mom has some errands to do today, and since we slept so late and missed school, you get to hang out with me for the day. If I do a stellar job of looking after you, it might help convince your mom that I'd be pretty good at doing it more often. Like... daily."

  Folding her arms, Stace gives me a look.

  I've seen it before.

  It's the same as her what-the-hell-are-you-doing-out-of-your-bed-dragging-your-ass-down-the-corridor-on-a-mission look. The first time I'd seen it, I hadn't been able to sleep and just needed to do something; anything that didn't mean staring at the same hospital room ceiling one minute longer.

  She'd had the guts to throw that look at me whilst sitting in my wheelchair. After a few moments of just staring at her, I'd dragged myself into Coleman's room, stolen his chair and raced Stace around the ward circuit twice - beating her on the second lap, before returning to my bed without so much as a word.

  Smiling at the memory, I blow her a kiss and start collecting the dirty dishes.

  "Didn't you have some cleaning back at the house you had to get done or something?" I ask over my shoulder as I stack the dishwasher.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  STACE

  I thought it would be hard to set foot inside my childhood home after I'd left it in a state of chaos, but somehow I'm looking upon the mess with a sense of complete calm. Adjusting my glasses, I move towards the laundry room to find a broom and some over-sized garbage bags. I'm not feeling in the least bit guilty as I step over Mom's ugly, up-turned side table to do so.

  Its dark and gl
oomy veneer would look a lot better with one of Brad's funky paint jobs, but then it wouldn't go with the hideous up-chuck browns of the seventies carpet.

  "Your house is ugly as fuck, Mom. But you raised me in it, and I might have turned out okay, so I won't hate you for any of the shitty times we had, or your bad taste in decor."

  Surprised by my own voice, I stop what I'm doing.

  No backlash comes from having spoken my thoughts aloud.

  "I'm really fucking angry that you didn't tell me you were sick."

  Nothing.

  "We could have been nice to each other all these years, instead of me thinking you were a horrible, guilt-wielding bitch."

  Silence.

  "We could have forgiven each other."

  My voice cracks and I brush at the tears pooling at the bottom of my glasses.

  "I would have told you that I loved you sooner. I'm sorry I waited so long."

  The room gets suddenly brighter and I gasp. Moving to the window, I can see that it was only due to a cloud moving past the sun, but the tingle down my spine and the lifting of my heart make me want to believe something deeper is at play. My pocket chimes and I pull out my phone.

  Brad: How are you doing? Do you need more Band-Aids? Ice-cream? My ex-military team of expert cleaners?

  Sniffing, I wipe my face as it breaks into a smile.

  Me: I'm okay. Just talking to Mom. Standard mad-woman stuff, I'm sure.

  Brad: [Brad taps chin in thought] Just let me know if she starts talking back. Then we'll worry.

  Me: [Stacey wipes brow in relief] Thanks. You two off to the park soon?

  Brad: In a while. We just fixed a leaky faucet, but it didn't make us dirty enough, so we're going to paint for a bit and then eat. We'll head out for some fresh air after that. I'll keep you posted. Take care of yourself. Make sure you wear gloves or something this time if you're dealing with broken glass.

  Me: I will. I'm hoping it won't take too long. I can meet you at the park to share some of that fresh air. It feels easier to breathe today. You kids have fun x

  Brad: XXXXXXX. And hugs too. And some other stuff that I won't put in writing.