Paradise by the Dashboard Light

by Kathryn R. Biel

  "I'm guessing not too many of your female colleagues think you're the type to take home to Mom."

  I shrug off her words as if they don't sting. "Why would you think that? They'd die to take me home. I'm a prime catch." I nod at her. "Okay. I'm ready to move."

  "I don't know. I mean ..." her voice trails. "I don't know why I said that."

  I'd forgotten how prickly Rio could get when she felt helpless. Ironic that she feels that way right now. I'm the one who can't walk.

  Slowly I make it down the hall, with Rio close behind. Almost too close as I can feel her practically on my back, which is making it hard to focus. We get to the bathroom, and she follows me in.

  "Um, I've got it from here."

  For the second time today, her face reddens. "Oh, yeah. Right. Um, want me to wait right outside?"

  "Actually I wouldn't mind a little privacy, if you don't mind. I'll yell if I need help."

  "Oh, okay." She turns and quickly closes the door. The bathroom is nice, and I realize maybe I should have taken her up on her offer to help, as standing up with one leg straight out in a brace is not the easiest thing I've ever done.

  By the time I make it back out to the couch, I'm sweating like a sinner in church. I'm also a little dizzy, a little nauseous again, and tired as all get out. My head is swimming trying to process everything with Rio, not to mention my limited mobility, missed work, and even wondering if this is what Evan feels like from time to time. It's too much and I want the swirling thoughts to stop.

  Rio, upon hearing me clumping back to the living room, rushes out from her bedroom. "Do you want to lay down again or would you rather sit?"

  "Maybe I'll try sitting up for a while, if you don't mind."

  She sets about dragging an ottoman over and helps me get situated. This time, she's more delicate about moving my leg.

  I'd love to find out where she's been all this time. I know why she never goes home; I want to know what she's been up to since I last saw her, but all this moving about has wiped me out, and before I know it, I'm asleep again.

  Chapter 12

  Rio

  I can't believe he's here. What am I going to do? Ian is here. In my living room, for me to take care of.

  And it's all because of me. I did this to him. He didn't say anything when I helped him up, but his pain is evident. The ease with which he moved yesterday is gone. As soon as he got settled on the couch again, he promptly fell back to sleep.

  Is he that heavily medicated or is moving around taking that much out of him?

  Either way, I have a long way to go to make it up to him. Which is going to prove difficult if I can't stop saying stupid things around him. It's like my brain knows he's the one person I can't have, so my heart overrides common sense and makes stupid things come out of my mouth.

  Fertilized.

  And that made Ian have to go through major surgery. He's asleep, sitting up with his head tilted back, mouth agape. I cover him with my favorite blanket and move the tray around so he can reach it better when he wakes up.

  I finally remember that I have food, which I don't bother to heat before I start shoveling it into my mouth. I take my plate and sit on the other side of the couch, turning the television on at a low volume. I don't even know what's on, but I need something to distract me.

  "You gonna share that or what?" Ian's voice startles me. I hadn't even realized his faint snoring had stopped. And of course, I've just taken a whopping bite. I hold up my finger to indicate that I'm chewing. It feels like it takes me five minutes to masticate my food before swallowing.

  "Um, yeah. Hang on. I'll cut it in half."

  I dash to the kitchen and return with two plates. My end of the burrito has disintegrated, forcing me to use a fork.

  "What, no beans?"

  "I don't like beans."

  "Still?"

  "These things don't change. Beans are gross."

  Ian tsks. "Beans are probably the healthiest thing you can eat. You don't know what you're missing out on. You should try them again."

  "Are we really going to go through this again? Remember when you tried to get me to eat sushi?"

  "I can't believe you almost threw up."

  "It was fish eggs."

  "Beans are not like roe. You should reconsider."

  With pursed lips, I shake my head. He doesn't even have any beans but the mere thought is repugnant.

  "Oh, come on, Rio. How can you not like beans? Try it. You'll like it." He reaches toward me, as if he's got a bean in his hand. His arm stretches closer.

  "Why are you always trying to get me to put things in my mouth?"

  And then I realize what I've said. Again. And Ian realizes it too as a wicked grin spreads across his face while his eyebrow cocks up. Before he can say anything, I cut him off. "I don't know why I'm constantly saying such stupid things around you. I'm not always this idiotic."

  "I know." Ian laughs. "It's fun to see you flustered. You were never flustered. You were the most together person I'd ever met."

  "Someone in our house had to be. I was the one who didn't step back from the line quick enough."

  "I guess you are a bit different from your sister."

  "And mother. And father for that matter. One of these things is not like the other." I think about it for a minute. "Although I am probably more like my father. I don't want to deal with the shit show so I don't. I walked away and didn't look back, just like he did."

  I was expected to help, and I'm not. I'm putting my needs and happiness over theirs. Just as reliable as my dad too. But thinking about it now, I wonder if my dad left in order to save himself, just as I did.

  Ian lets out a low breath. "How bad is it now?"

  I shrug. "I try not to get involved. My mom won't accept that and insists on calling me at least a few times a week to tell me all of the drama, hoping she can guilt me into coming back. I don't want to know. I don't want to hear it. Like hearing that a five-year-old got suspended, and Rainne threatened the principal. You know, the usual stuff."

  I glance over at Ian and notice a grim look on his face, the hard set to his mouth. I don't know if it's because we're talking about Rainne or if his leg is bothering him. "You look tired. Do you want to lie down?"

  "Yeah, speaking of moms, I should call mine first. I need to let her know. Can you find my phone for me? It's in that bag," he says, pointing to the duffle across the room.

  "You haven't told her yet? She's going to flip. She'll be on the next flight out here!"

  "No, she won't. She can't."

  "Oh, right. Evan. How's he doing?"

  I see Ian's mouth tighten again. He must be feeling terrible and certainly not up for idle chit chat. I rummage through his bag, trying to ignore the fact that his underwear are in here and I'm touching them, and remove his cell phone from the bottom of the backpack. I extract the charger too, plugging it in and snaking the cord over to the end table. "I'll give you some privacy. Do you need anything else?"

  "When I'm done, I might need help lying down again."

  "Okay, I'll be back in a few." I start to walk out, but stop. "Oh, Ian?"

  "Yeah?" He tries to turn to look at me, but can't move enough, so I step back into his line of sight.

  "Please don't tell your mom you're with me. I … I don't want anything getting back to my mom."

  "You're ashamed of me?" Ian teases.

  "No, I'm doing my best to move on from them. They don't need any reminders that I'm out here. I don't need them complicating my life."

  In the solitude of my room, I finally let out a deep breath. My hands are shaking. My heart—and another region—are leaping for joy. My head is scared. This is an unexpected turn of events.

  I'm not sure if it's good or not.

  

  Ian

  "Well, Mom, I've got some good news and some bad news."

  "Ian, whenever you start a conversation that way, I know it's always bad news."

  "The bad part
is over. I'm okay."

  "Oh my God, Ian! What happened? Were you in an accident?"

  "Yes and no. I fell and tore my ACL yesterday. I had it repaired today."

  "Ian Patrick, you went under the knife and didn't call me?"

  "Mom, calm down. I'm fine. It all happened very quickly, and I didn't want you to worry. I know you can't come here, so I didn't want you freaking out about it. It's over. I'm fine."

  "Are you home now?"

  "Well, sort of. I'm staying with a friend because her apartment has an elevator and mine doesn't."

  "Oh, that's right. I still can't believe I haven't seen where you live."

  "Don't worry, Mom. I understand." And I do. Evan can’t walk up the stairs to my apartment, so they couldn't come out and visit. And where Mom went, Evan had to go. I never really thought about that too much before now. Even though she's physically abled, she was just as limited by Evan's condition as he was.

  "I can come out now though. I was going to go to a quilting meeting on Saturday at the library, but I can cancel that."

  Her words confirm my revelation. "No, Mom, you go to your thing. Like I said, I'm not even at home. I can't really invite you into someone else's apartment. I'm being enough of an imposition."

  "So this friend you're staying with—is she someone special?"

  Leave it to Mom to hone in on that. She's one of the few of her friends who is not yet a grandmother. No pressure there.

  "It's my friend Beth from work. She covered my shift yesterday, and she's the only one of the group that doesn't have stairs, so she lost by default. Yay for city living." I'd love to tell Mom who Beth's roommate is, but I respect Rio's wish for privacy. We all knew Rio was going away to school, but I don't think anyone anticipated her disappearing act. I've always wondered if what Rainne did caused problems between the girls. While the girls often fought and squabbled, as siblings do, to the public they usually presented a united front. Maybe what Rainne did was the last straw.

  And then Rainne named the baby Tequila. If it had been my kid, no way in hell. But if it had been my kid, there would have been no college, no med school, no residency, no upcoming fellowship. No making a difference for premature babies.

  It's been a long road to come to this point of acceptance. Heartbreak was my salvation.

  "Oh, I'm so happy you have good friends to help you out."

  "Yeah, they've pitched in and covered shifts, and Pete and John are my personal chauffeurs for the time being, not that I plan on going anywhere anytime soon."

  "Do you need anything? Are you sure you don't want me to come out? I can now. I can take care of you like I've always taken care of Evan."

  "I know, Mom, but I'd rather have you out when I can show you the town. I'm still going to try to get home over the holidays." Even as I say it, I know the likelihood is growing slimmer by the day. Christmas is a little over six weeks away, right around the time when I'm returning to work. It'll be doubtful I'll be able to get any more time off, and I'll owe people shifts. I'm not looking forward to that payback. I doubt I'll have anytime off, even to sleep. There are lots of hundred-plus hour work weeks in my future.

  I wish more than anything else I could be home. After the fellowship, I'm heading back to Ohio. I've had enough of being away. Despite the fact that I'm closer to thirty than I'd like to admit, I wouldn't mind my mom being here right now. And even though growing up, Evan needed her more—so much more—she was always there for me too. In the middle of therapies and stretching, she made time for me and made sure I knew I mattered as much as Evan did. I tried not to need her. Evan's needs were so much more pressing and critical. From a young age, I understood that. I could walk. Evan had to work for it. I don't remember not being able to read. That too was years of tedious effort for my brother, and it's still no more than a child's comprehension level. Where I grew and filled out, even putting on weight was effortful for Evan. So I tried not to use Mom's energy toward me, when everything came so easily.

  But as I disconnect, I wish my mom would hop on a plane. She'd make me soup, served in goldenrod yellow Tupperware bowls, even though I’m not really sick, and make sure my pillows are fluffed. I won't ask her to do that. She's had a lifetime of taking care of others. She deserves her rest and fun now. Lord knows she didn't get the time to do something like quilt when we were growing up.

  Rio pads out in faded pajamas and an oversized Henley. Her hair is piled in a massive heap on top of her head and her face is scrubbed clean of any makeup. This look is almost as appealing as the leather pants. Hell, she's looked delectable in everything I've seen her in. It's like she can't not look attractive and appealing. How did I never notice this before?

  "I'm going to go to bed soon. What do you need?"

  She helps me up one last time and then resettles me on the couch when I'm done. My leg is elevated on a stack of pillows, and she's refilled and reattached the Cryocuff. I take another dose of pain pills and try to settle in for the night. I'm usually a side or stomach sleeper, so lying on my back is torture. Almost as bad as when I get a faint whiff of something that smells sweet, like cake or vanilla, as Rio leans over me, fixing the pillow behind my head.

  She finally looks at me—really looks at me. I can't help but feel as if she's been avoiding it all night. Her face is inches from mine. I give her a small smile, and she returns it.

  "This is pretty crazy, huh?" I finally say, unable to express the jumble of thoughts running through my foggy brain.

  "I'm sorry."

  "For what?" Her apology makes no sense to me.

  "Your knee. It's my fault."

  "It's not. It was a stupid accident. Eggs should come with a hazard warning. Maybe I'll sue the chicken."

  A strand of hair has broken free and dangles by her eye again. For the second time tonight, I push it back. I remember being fascinated with her hair when we were kids. It was like it was its own life force. And then there was that short stage when we played hairdresser, and she was my favorite client, but I swore her to secrecy about that with an ever-bonding pinky swear.

  She puts her hand on mine, stilling it, but pressing it to her jaw. "Ian …"

  "Rio, thank you."

  Confusion fills her eyes. "Thank you? For what?"

  "For this. For taking care of me. I was having a bit of a pity party a few minutes ago, kind of wishing my mom was here." My medications have officially given my internal censor the night off.

  "Your mom would be making you soup, even though you're not sick." Rio smiles, and the wistful look on her face tells me we're thinking of the same thing. "In the yellow bowls."

  "It was like penicillin in plastic," I whisper as I feel my eyes growing heavy, and suddenly it's too much work to keep my lids open. I'll just close them for a second. My arms feel like they're made of lead, and I feel myself being dragged under.

  "I'm so happy it's you," I mumble before drifting off into a drug-induced sleep.

  Chapter 13

  Rio

  Even though my body is desperate for—screaming for—sleep, my mind has other ideas. I stare at my ceiling and then toss from one side to another. The chance meeting the other night was one thing. Perhaps then I'd stood a chance of getting away without Ian being back in my life. Now, it would be impossible. I don't know how long he'll be here but after one night, I know I won't be able to resist spending time with him.

  And it might just kill me this time. Even though I know there's no possibility we can ever be together, the thought of spending time with him is too alluring. He's like a drug I can't quit, and I'm about to fall off the wagon. I'll be the first to admit—sleeping with him was a mistake. A giant one. The most colossal wrong I've ever committed. I was young and stupid. And he'll never forgive me if he finds out, not that I’d blame him.

  That night did not go how I'd planned.

  Obviously.

  At first, I was just going to break up with him, like Rainne wanted me to do. By the time Ian finally showed up, the rum and b
eer and whiskey took over and brilliant me thought kissing him would be a great idea.

  And not that I would have admitted it at the time, but I know I was hoping he'd realize the first moment our lips touched that I wasn't Rainne. And that he'd still want to be with me anyway. As we kissed and touched and fondled and fumbled, I did try to tell him. Those words fire through my brain, burning and searing as much as they did a decade ago.

  "Ian, wait. I've ... I'm not who you think I am."

  He looked deep into my eyes and brushed the hair off my face. "It's okay. I know you."

  And in that moment, I believed him.

  I didn't account for the dulling of the senses that copious amounts of beer and whiskey provide.

  Nor did I take into consideration that Ian was a horny teenager, and Rainne had been taunting and teasing him for almost a year. Hell, I'd only found out earlier that night that Rainne and Ian had never slept together.

  After, when he said her name, when he said those words that killed me, I ran away, leaving him still in the backseat of the borrowed car. Rainne and Travis were discovered about two hours later.

  Rainne lasted a semester at OU before returning home with a burgeoning belly.

  Since she'd been caught with her pants down—literally—with Travis a few hours after she'd supposedly been with Ian, the paternity was always in question. I know the McCallisters wondered, at least until they saw Tequila for the first time, with her curly black hair and skin tone several shades darker than even Rainne's or my own. There was no doubt about her paternity after that.

  I left for Boston the next morning, and haven't been back since.

  I flip over again, cursing myself for letting my mind wander like that. No matter what I did, all roads lead back to my sister. And Ian would be a ticket for a ride on the express train there.