I couldn’t stop the hysterics in my voice. I was angry and scared at the same time. I couldn’t fight him and I didn’t want to. If he wanted to leave now, he could, and I wasn’t going to stop him. I had said as much as I could. I laid my head in my lap, letting it all out. I could feel his hand across my back, aiming to comfort me. It only made me cry harder.
“Please don’t,” he said. “I can’t watch this either. I thought I was doing you a favor. I didn’t know it had gone so far. I won’t go if you don’t want me to. I will stay. We can make this work for as long as possible.”
His voice was filled with soothing words. I looked back up at him, blurry-eyed. I could see he was just as upset as me, but without the tears. His hand slid from my back to my shoulder and into my hands. I got up to sit next to him, but he blocked the way, keeping me from getting close. I was confused as to why he would say such kind things, yet still keep me at bay.
“Not tonight. I have a surprise for you, but I want to wait. I will show you tomorrow. Just get some sleep, and know I will be here in the morning.”
“I want to stay. I don’t want to–”
“Please?”
“You don’t have to show me anything. I just want you.”
“I need to do this. I promise that tomorrow you can, but give me tonight.”
I didn’t want to listen, but I would obey his wish. It was only one night, and I could have him to myself in the morning.
“Promise?”
“Have I ever broken one?”
He was grinning again. I wanted to lean in and kiss him but I held myself back.
“No.”
Walking away was hard, but I knew he would be there when I got up. I could hear the peals of thunder outside, but there was no rain. The pressure in the air had changed, and so had my heart. There would be no more games and no more questioning. I knew where my heart stood, and I knew where his was, too.
15.
I was as restless during the night as the storm brewing outside. Each time a streak of lightning blazed through the sky, lighting up the room, I started the count: one-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand…I would get to fifteen before I could hear the thunder follow behind, growling through the air. Although the storm was traveling quickly, it was still so far off that the two wouldn’t join till sometime tomorrow.
Why I had to wait was still unclear to me. Whatever surprise Job had for me wasn’t something he could just run to the store and get. It would have to be something he could do. He said he wanted to show me. Was he planning on letting me in on some new secret ability I didn’t know about? Was he going to just get up and walk out the door? My excitement was building. I turned my attention back to the storm – one-one thousand…
It was already after midnight, and I was still wandering in my thoughts of Job. I thought about going downstairs and telling him it was officially tomorrow, despite knowing he was too smart to fall for anything like that. He would convince me to leave again and wait. It wasn’t fair that the moment I was ready to put my heart out on the line, he would make me wait before taking it. Two-one thousand…
I thought about clearing the clutter out of the upstairs – packed away in boxes, covered with sheets. It would be a better place for Job to stay in than the basement. The light in the windows, a larger room, and a haven he could call his own. No one would ever have to know he was there. I could keep him a secret, and he would never have to leave. I could live with him and move my room back to where it had been. It was a crazy thought, but he had said we would find a way to make it work. Three-one thousand….
I could follow him to wherever he went. Not just take him there, but stay. I had no idea where “there” was, and didn’t care; it would be the escape I was looking for. It wouldn’t be the big city life I had always wanted, but it was better than home. I could let go of my bad memories of this place and start new ones with him. I would say goodbye to my family. As much as they would miss me, Chase would understand, and Sally would support me. I could come back to visit, and everything would work out. Four one-thousand…
Time was passing too slowly. I wanted to stay awake all night, waiting for the sun to come up so I could run down to him. It was difficult to stay put. I wasn’t sure how he could be so patient, waiting in one place for weeks, when I was struggling with just a few hours. He had done it for years on a dirt floor, the smells of decaying flesh – the screams of those who were less fortunate. There were skeletons in his closet that would haunt him for the rest of his life. I wanted to be the one to comfort him when they did. Five-one thousand….
I closed my eyes, waiting for sleep. The thunder was still rumbling outside in the distance. I stopped counting and tried to put Job out of my mind, focusing on sleep. I needed to if I was ever going to wake up and see him. It was just one more day. There was no reason I had to be in a hurry. He had promised to be there waiting for me. He was going to be true to his word.
It was still dark in the room when I woke up, and I thought I had only fallen asleep for a few hours. It was light enough to know that day had come, but the storm had arrived, and the soft drizzle of rain was tapping on the windows. The thunder and lightning had stopped for the time being, leaving behind a dreary day full of rain.
I didn’t even wait to rub the sleep from my eyes. I bounded out of my makeshift bed, excited to make my way down the stairs and be with him – hold him and kiss him for the first time. Looking down at myself, I noticed that I was still wearing the same thing from the day before. I would have to quickly change my wardrobe and make myself presentable before seeing him again.
Picking out a white spaghetti strap tank and a pink button-down blouse with jeans, I went to the bathroom to take a look in the mirror and saw that a touch up was not going to cut it. The circles under my eyes were almost as bad as Job’s from the mascara that had collected under them. My hair had managed to tangle itself, and was pasted to the side of my face. Washing up and giving myself a fresh face took nearly an hour; my nerves had come back, and it took twice as long to apply anything with shaky hands.
Looking at the clock in the kitchen, I saw it was already two in the afternoon. I had slept far too late, having been kept up half the night by the impending storm and thoughts of the coming engagement with Job. I had missed breakfast entirely and I thought he would be wondering if I had changed my mind, since I had been so slow to see him after being so excited the night before. I couldn’t go down empty handed. As much as I wanted to see him, I would need to get lunch together first. I could just see it – getting to a romantic part, and the grumble of my stomach killing the mood. Throwing together a couple of sandwiches and drinks, I took off, feeling my heart pound harder each step I took.
He was waiting with his arms crossed – a devious smile across his beautiful face. By the look in his eyes, I knew he was going to give me flack about taking my time to see him. I held back from rolling my eyes at him, as I had done so many times before. I was prepared to take any tongue lashing he was going to dole out.
“Storm keep you up?” I could see he didn’t drop the smile, and his voice wavered with restrained laughter.
“Sorta. I had a lot on my mind.”
“Like what?” He was trying to keep the pretense up, but failing miserably.
“Oh, you know – stuff.”
I didn’t have to explain what stuff was. He knew. He had banked on my anticipation. He was enjoying torturing me and making me wait. I held firm, handing him his plate and drink and sitting in my chair. I stuffed my mouth, hoping he would stop the questions and take my lead. I was already having issues keeping control. I couldn’t taste anything. My mind was on such overdrive that it was killing all of my other senses. I just wanted to get through the meal and move on.
We ate in silence, eyes locked on each other. I couldn’t think of anything else other than that first kiss. Had he ever? Would he know how? Was it different than anything a human would do? So far all of his flirting techniques were t
he same as ours. I wasn’t sure if affection would be any different.
I finished my sandwich in half the time it would usually take – swallowing the last large bite that decided to stick in my throat. Sucking in air, I couldn’t help the coughing that followed as the bite went down the wrong tube. I grabbed for my glass, trying to wash it back down, only to make it worse – the coughing jags continued, and now I was spraying milk everywhere. I wasn’t choking, but Job had no idea what was happening. I could see his concern through my watery eyes. He sat motionless, not sure if he should reach out for me to do something. I raised my finger, communicating that he should give me a minute as I kept coughing, moving the piece deeper down my throat, away from my wind pipe. It burned the whole way down, and I took another sip to quiet the cough, trying to keep it in my mouth this time. At last it stopped, and I could look at him again, still wide eyed and questioning. Tears had run down my face; as I wiped them away, the black stains of mascara came off on my hand. I looked a mess. I had been in such a hurry, I could have choked to death in front of someone that had never even heard of the Heimlich maneuver, let alone performed it. He would have been helpless to save me.
“Sorry, I ate too fast…I’m ok now,” I said as I was clearing my throat. It still hurt, but I was able to deal with it. “I think I need to go upstairs for a minute. I look awful. Let me clean back up and I’ll be right back.”
I quickly stood up to leave. Before I could move, his hand reached out to mine, holding tight so I couldn’t go.
“You look fine. You just scared me, that’s all. Just stay. You know you look better without it, anyways.”
“I thought you said I looked better than nice when I wore it. I thought you liked it.” It still hurt to talk. I wanted to wipe the rest of my mascara off, instead of having smudges all over my face.
“It wasn’t the stuff on your face I liked. It was you – all of you – and I think I have a word for it now.” He started to pull me in closer to the bed. “Exquisite.”
I sat down with him. I knew I wasn’t what he said I was, but just hearing the flattery started my nerves up again. He never let go of my hand, and I didn’t want him to. I intertwined my fingers with his and leaned in close. I was waiting on him. I could feel his breath on me, calming me down and making me slightly lightheaded. I wasn’t sure what was going on or why I felt this way near him.
“I have to show you something,” he said, interrupting the moment.
“Can it wait?”
I didn’t want to see anything right now. I just wanted to feel his lips pressed against mine.
“No. I really want to do this. It shouldn’t take too long. I just need to explain it to you first.”
“Okay,” I said impatiently.
“So – do you know what you breathe?”
“What?”
“What you breathe in and out. What it’s called.”
The question was absurd. It had nothing to do with the present. I answered anyways, to hear him out. “Yeah – I breathe in oxygen and breathe out carbon dioxide. Everyone does.”
“I don’t. I do the opposite. That’s why you get lightheaded when you’re near me,” he said, very serious.
I wasn’t getting the reason for the biology lesson. It didn’t matter what he breathed, I just wanted to be close. I could handle being a bit lightheaded and relaxed. It was a nice little bonus.
“What does this have to do with anything?”
“See, there is very little carbon dioxide in the air, but my lungs make up for it with other stuff. It acts the same as when you breathe. When I get a larger amount of carbon dioxide, it does something – different.” He was thinking about how he was going to tell me. I could see the corners of his mouth turn down, thinking of the right words to say, looking around the room for an answer.
“It does what?” I was concerned he was about to tell me I was hurting him being close. I sat back, looking at him, confused. He didn’t change his expression.
“I get stronger. I can heal – a lot faster.” He finally made eye contact, looking ashamed he hadn’t said anything sooner.
It took a moment to process this new information, but it finally clicked. The first night I had fallen asleep on his chest had saved his life. He would have died, as Sally had thought. The bruises that showed up along his abdomen from healed internal injuries, the erratic breathing all through the night – it all stopped because of me.
The night he let me sleep on his shoulder had saved his leg. It had started to die. He should have lost it. No one should have been able to come back from that. He had been determined to make it all ok. He was willing to forgive me, because he knew he needed me. His determination and forgiveness had brought him back from disaster.
“Why did you wait to tell me this? You could have said something and been out of here in just a few days.” It was hard to hide the bit of annoyance in my voice.
“Would you have really gotten that close to me when I got here? I still needed you to fix my leg. I still needed you to take the knife out. I couldn’t do that by myself. You didn’t want to come near me at first. You were still scared.” He held my hand tight.
Back then, he could have told me anything and I would have kept my distance. I was scared to death when he was awake. My feelings for him had changed so much in less than two weeks, it was hard to believe I had acted that way.
“But afterwards – you hurt every day. You almost lost your leg. You could have died. I treated you so badly. How were you so sure I would help you?”
“I wasn’t.” His grip was still strong, but the guilty look hadn’t left. He was staring down at our hands, clasped together. “I had hoped I could convince you, but I wasn’t sure, even then. You got so angry with me that night that I made up my mind that it was worth more to me to stay with you than to worry about what would have happened.”
“You would have rather died and not said anything than be – without me?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
I could see he was upset about keeping it a secret – keeping me in the dark this whole time. He had cared about me from the first day. All of this suffering could have been avoided if he had never fallen for me. I wasn’t sure how guilty I was supposed to feel.
“Then, what about after that?”
“I wasn’t sure how you felt about me. You were so all over the place, changing emotions every other minute, but I knew I wanted to be with you either way.”
“You could have told me last night. So why now? Why did you wait till now to say anything?”
“I wanted to make sure you hadn’t changed your mind again. I want to make sure I can do this right. I want to be able to stand up and hold you – not be stuck in this bed making you take care of me. I want to take care of you.”
I wanted to throw my arms around him and tell him he didn’t need to. I wanted him no matter what. If I had to wait on him for the rest of my life, I was prepared to do it. I understood that he wanted to be strong for me, but it wasn’t necessary. At the same time, though, I didn’t want to deny his request.
“What do I need to do?”
“You need to stay close, like the last time. I’m going to get real hot, and I assume it’s not going to be pleasant for you. If I hurt, I don’t want you to stop. I will pull away if I can’t take anymore. Can you do that for me?”
I nodded. I was afraid that it would be like the last time. They say if it hurts, then you know it’s healing, but accelerated – I couldn’t handle another bout of screaming. I moved next to him, in the same spot as before, putting my head against his shoulder and my hand on his chest. I could feel his arm behind me, and he brought his other hand up to hold my face, stroking his thumb across my cheek. He was so close again, and his sweet breath was already taking effect. I tried to move closer, but his hand held firm, preventing me.
“Don’t kiss me yet. Let me do that after.”
“Okay,” I said dreamily. I had become so relaxed, I felt like falling asleep. I force
d myself to keep my eyes open. “How long should this take?”
“Anytime now. Just promise you won’t stop.”
“I promise.”
I could feel his skin getting warm through the shirt. At first, it was a comfortable heat – no more than being outside in the August sun. It felt so inviting. He grinned at me, still holding my face close; his warm touch was so pleasant, I was content with staying like this for the rest of the night.
Within seconds, the soothing heat had become unbearable. He kept his hand in place, but it was no longer comforting, as my face was becoming sticky with sweat. I could feel his body under me begin to tense, and his face had twisted into a pained look as he took in deeper breaths.
I could barely hold onto him. The heat of his skin had grown so intense, it seemed his shirt would soon catch on fire and disintegrate under my hand. His palm felt as though it was scorching my skin as his fingers curled, preventing them from tearing at my face.
Only a few minutes had passed, but I could see he couldn’t go on for much longer. His eyes were locked on mine as he struggled against the pain. Every vein in his neck and face was bulging as he struggled to maintain control. I started to cry, seeing him like this. I would rather him sit and wait than do this just so he could feel like he was doing something right. I didn’t want to watch him suffer, and finally closed my eyes.
He must have known I couldn’t watch him do this to himself. He pulled his hand away, and I could hear him holler at the ceiling, away from my ear. He was hissing air between his gritted teeth. I opened my eyes again to see his head tilted back, waiting for the pain to stop. It didn’t take nearly as long this time around before he was able to relax. I kept my head down, in case the episode started back up again, while I ran my hand up to his neck. The heat was fading, but his shirt had been soaked through, and sweat was dripping off his face. I waited for him to slow his breathing before talking again. I wanted him to take all the time he needed. Based on past experience, it took a lot out of him to accomplish what he had just done.
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