I get home from visiting Ryan at the hospital, kick off my shoes, and slide into bed, not bothering to remove my clothes. I remember one of the old Calvin and Hobbes comic strips that said something about how life is remarkable because it’s never so bad that it can’t get worse. That feels so true right now.
I didn’t recover well when I lost my mom. I couldn’t get myself back to that happy place of denial. At least, I thought I hadn’t. But really, I was just spinning a new story—one where my role as the tragic figure keeps Ryan safe and happy. All these years, my mind was trying to repair itself, weaving its fantasies, like threads through my brain. Ryan with a dog and a couple of kids and a wife. Ryan happy, his stutter gone, his students adoring him, as I watched on in my martyred loneliness. I was willing to make that devil’s bargain.
But now, the universe has given me the finger.
Elizabeth
Jude disappears down the hall, so I give Ryan one last peck on the cheek and leave. I wanted to go home with Jude because my heart was breaking for him, and because—oddly enough—I think that’s where Ryan would want me to be. I know Ryan would be freaking out about how Jude is coping, and so am I. But it’s dangerous for me and Jude to be near each other now, so I go to my own place to get some much-needed rest.
Sam wakes me up the next morning so we can drive to the hospital together. She is working today. I know she’s beyond thrilled because she got the go-ahead to shadow a cardiologist for the next three weeks. But she is tamping down her enthusiasm out of respect for me.
“He’s going to be okay, Lizzie. I’ll go and see him with you before my shift, but from what you said, he’ll heal fine,” Sam says as I park the car. “He’s young and in shape, and he’s a positive person. Plus, he has you, and that counts for a lot.”
“What would I have done if I hadn’t met you?” I start to get emotional thinking about the sassy girl I met in the hospital over a year ago. We were both volunteers then. “Thank you for being my friend.”
Sam hugs me and we head into the hospital together.
When we walk into Ryan’s room, he’s awake and propped up. He’s got huge bags under his eyes, along with the usual bandages, cast, and wires.
“Oh, shit, buddy, you look like a truck hit you,” Sam says. “Oh wait, it did.”
“Ha-ha,” Ryan says.
I am so happy to see him awake and in a good mood that I run over and kiss him.
Sam examines Ryan and says a few words to him. I watch them, not absorbing what they’re saying. It’s just good to see him talking.
Sam says her good-byes and leaves me alone with Ryan.
“Hi, there. You look better,” I say.
“You lie.” He smiles at me, and his eyes still have that sparkle, despite the drugs coursing through him.
“Are you in pain? Do you remember the accident? God, I have so many questions. You weren’t awake at all last night, and I was really scared.” I try to keep it together, but it’s not easy.
“Come here, b-babe,” he says. I go around to his left side, which is less injured, and try to give him a hug. He scoots over, which causes him some discomfort, and pulls me onto the bed with him. I put my head on his chest and we stay like that for a while.
“It all happened so f-fast. I don’t remember much. I was talking to B-Brett, so I don’t think I was paying enough attention when I crossed.”
“No, he said the person made a right turn without stopping. You had the right of way.”
He sighs as I run one hand down his arm.
“I’m not in much p-pain yet. The ribs hurt some, though. The d-doctor came in early and gave me the list of all the things that are busted.”
“Your poor body. You need to rest for the next few weeks at least, and then you’ll need some rehab.”
I glance up and Jude is standing in the doorway. I don’t know how long he’s been there. Ryan follows my gaze and their eyes lock. Ryan smiles, but it’s too bright and too enthusiastic, and Jude stands there like a statue.
“Stop c-creeping me out and get the fuck over here,” Ryan says.
Jude comes in and is about to sit down next to the bed when he leans across and runs his hand over Ryan’s hair and down one cheek. Then he slaps him lightly on the face and sits down.
“What the f-fuck?”
“I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, that’s what the fuck.” Jude puts his head back and closes his eyes, and I guess their conversation is over.
Ryan shakes his head, but I know he is relieved to see a calm settle over Jude—his forehead smoothing out, his shoulders dropping. Ryan relaxes too and goes back to hugging me.
“You’re going to need someone to help you for a while until you’re back on your feet,” I say.
Jude sits up. “I can do that.”
“Except you work, and you’re going to Vegas tonight,” I say.
“Already canceled.”
“You d-didn’t have to do that,” Ryan says. “I can get Jim and Lizzie and B-Brett to help me out.”
Jude’s eyebrows raise so high, they look like they’re going to disappear into his forehead. He stands up and puts his hands on his hips.
“Yeah, I’ll go fuck Tara senseless, then play roulette at the Bellagio while you’re here trying to figure out how to take a piss without hurting yourself. Are you serious right now?”
Now it’s my eyebrows that are elevated. “I can get some time off, and I’m not in school, so you and I can coordinate and take turns. That way you won’t have to miss so much work.”
“Lizzie, you don’t want to use v-vacation time to take care of me,” Ryan says. He is starting to get sleepy, but he’s still putting up a fight.
“Don’t be silly,” I say.
Ryan starts to doze off, so Jude motions me into the hallway, and I follow.
Jude stands in the cream-colored hall, with its harsh fluorescent lighting. His arms are crossed, his pose deceptively casual. It reminds me of when I first met him.
“It’s nice of you to offer to help, but you don’t need to put your life on hold. I can figure out how to take care of him.”
“This isn’t a pissing contest. I know you can manage, but why not take my help if I’m offering? Number one, I have more free time than you do right now. Number two, I am almost a nurse. It won’t kill you to trust me.”
Jude sighs. “I do trust you.”
“Okay. Then accept help.”
“Fine. I already had some time off for New Year’s, so I can handle the next week. Maybe you can watch him the week after. We should be able to patch it together. You sure you up for it?”
“Are you serious?”
He stands there with one hand on his hip, just staring at me. I turn to go, but he touches my arm to stop me. “Thanks. I’m glad you’re here with us.”
The nurse thinks Ryan is going to be out a while, so Jude gives me a ride home. He walks me all the way to my door, even grabbing my elbow when I trip on a crack in the sidewalk. I know how protective Jude is of Ryan, but it’s unusual to see him that way with someone else. I realize that he has taken me into their tight circle, whether he meant to or not. The stakes are higher, being close to someone as closed-off as Jude. And does this mean that’s how he sees me now—like one of the family? Or is it something more?
They release Ryan Thursday afternoon, New Year’s Eve, and Jude takes him home to get him situated while I get all of Ryan’s meds. At first, Ryan is a model patient. His arm and his ribs hurt the most, but he takes it in stride. The pain pills help, too. But by Saturday, Jude is already texting me about how Ryan is complaining because he’s bored. I can’t help but laugh, because men make the worst patients, and obviously Ryan isn’t an exception.
When I’m not working, I head over to try to keep the boys entertained and to give Jude a break. Ryan pulled the muscles around his hip, so between that and his other injuries, he can’t walk well yet. He gets up to go to the bathroom, but other than that, Jude has to fetch everything.<
br />
Sunday night, I grab some groceries and go over to make dinner. When I get there, Jude seems more tense than usual.
“Can you please tell your boyfriend that he needs to take his pain pill?”
I walk in to see Ryan lying in bed with a book, but he has a sheen of perspiration on his forehead. Jude is pale, too.
“Don’t start in on me,” Ryan says. “Those knock me out, and I hate b-being asleep all d-day.”
I grab Ryan’s left hand. “Jude’s right. You don’t want to be chasing the pain. You need to stay on your meds schedule for now. Maybe you can start taking fewer of them soon, but the pain is too intense right now.”
I can see that Ryan doesn’t want to show weakness in front of his brother. I ask Jude to leave us alone for a minute, and he does—begrudgingly.
I rub Ryan’s shoulder and give him a kiss. “I know it’s hard, but you need to take care of yourself.”
“Jesus, this all h-hurts.”
“I know. Where does it hurt most?”
I rub all down his left side, since his right side is so messed up, but I also try to massage his right hip muscles, since they are stiff. He winces but asks me to keep going.
“Those aren’t the only s-spots that ache,” he says, making me laugh.
“I’ll bet. They’re the only ones that are getting rubbed tonight.”
“It’s going to be a really l-long few weeks.”
“I’ll give you a treat if you take your pill first.”
He sighs. “Fine.”
He swallows the pill, and I reward him with a long kiss. The cast on his right arm prevents him from holding me, but he still strokes my hair with his left hand. Before I know it, his eyelids are drooping and he’s asleep.
Jude is watching TV when I come out of Ryan’s room. “Did you get him to take his pill?”
“Yeah. He’s asleep already. He’s not kidding—those things wipe him out.”
“They’re pretty strong. How did you do that?”
“I have some tools in my tool kit that you don’t.” I sit down on the couch next to him.
“Mad nursing skills?”
“Breasts.”
Jude peeks at my chest, and then his eyes dart away. The memory of him doing this the first time we met slams into me.
“Sorry you had to cancel your trip. Was Tara disappointed?”
“She went without me.”
“Seriously?”
He runs one hand through his hair. “Yeah. She said she’d find stuff to do. By that, of course, she means other guys.”
I don’t say anything and Jude laughs.
“Look at you being so virtuous, not saying a word. I know every thought running through your pretty little head right now.” He flicks the end of my hair with one finger.
“Well, I did my best to be polite. That’s what counts.” I put my bare feet up on the coffee table. I see Jude glance at them out of the corner of his eye. He probably doesn’t like them up on the table, but I decide to ignore it.
“Don’t worry. I told her not to bother to call me when she gets back. We had a good run. This is a good place to end it.” His tone is nonchalant, but his body is stiff, and he looks exhausted.
“Put your feet up here,” I say, wiggling my right foot.
“Why? I’ll get the table dirty.”
“Feet. Up. Here.”
Jude sighs and toes his shoes off. He puts his feet next to mine, and they’re huge by comparison. He sighs and his shoulders relax.
“See? Want me to make dinner?” I ask.
“No, I put your groceries away and started some rice. I’ll cook the stir fry soon.”
“Thanks.”
Jude grabs the remote and turns on a Big Bang Theory rerun.
“I’m surprised you think this is funny,” I say during the commercial.
“Why?”
“You don’t have a nerdy bone in your Abercrombie and Fitch body.”
“I know plenty about being an outcast.”
I turn to him. “When your mom died, you mean?”
“Growing up with a single mother and wearing lots of Goodwill clothes. Having a brother that stuttered and got picked on. Being the only sophomore in college who was filing for legal custody of his brother. You know, that kind of stuff.”
Resisting the temptation to press Jude for more details is as hard as not pulling that loose thread from your sweater. But I have to, so I stand up.
“C’mon. Let’s go make dinner.”
Jude turns off the TV and we start cooking. I chop vegetables while he slices the beef and makes a teriyaki sauce.
“How did you learn to cook? Your mom teach you?” I turn the wok on to preheat it.
“Not really. Lots and lots of cooking shows and YouTube, actually.” His long, slim fingers are precise with the knife.
“My mom made all of us learn to cook, and we had to take turns making dinner. David was the worst. He burned everything, and we’d end up using his food for food-fight ammunition. Mom finally fired him.”
“There’s no way your parents let you waste food.”
The aroma of the garlic I just threw in the wok is making my mouth water. “Very perceptive of you. And no, we’d put it in our napkins and then take it outside later. I got pegged with a charred piece of steak once, and I was digging that out of my ear for two days.”
Jude laughs. “You and these stories about your family. You make it sound like you were raised in a jungle.”
“Not quite. We live on three acres. The five of us did run around like monkeys, though. Do you know that I’ve shot a turkey with a bow and arrow?”
Jude almost spits out the water he’s drinking. “Now I know you’re fucking with me.”
“I wish. It was a big guy, too. My dad took us a hunting a lot, but I never liked it.” I throw the meat in the wok, as I remember the many arguments I had with my dad about guns. “I always wanted to patch animals up, not kill them. The worst was when Dad made me shoot a deer. I cried for two days and I wouldn’t talk to him. Mom forced him to apologize.”
“He sounds kind of harsh.”
“Yeah, but I did learn some things from it. Like how to be patient and wait. But also, when you get your shot, you have to take it.”
Jude doesn’t say anything to that.
“My parents thought the worst thing in the world was coddling children. Dad used to say stuff like, ‘If it doesn’t hurt, you’re not doing it right.’ But when it came down to it, my parents hated to see any of us suffer.”
“Must be nice,” Jude says. He tries to sound dismissive, but I hear the envy he must feel.
We sit down and eat. Afterward, I check on Ryan. He is still asleep, so I get my stuff and get ready to leave.
Jude steps out of the dining room with two beers in his hands. “Want to play some cards?”
Jude has taken great pains to be polite—and distant—over the past month, so this surprises me. I follow him to the table, and we settle in and play gin. After I win two hands and he wins three, I decide to change up the rules.
“Let’s add some stakes to this game.”
“Yeah? Like what?” Jude is relaxed now, one arm propped up on the chair behind him, his legs stretched out under the table, almost touching mine. He looks like a classic movie star. Problem is, people treat him like he’s an image on a screen, too. They miss out on his fascinating dimensions.
“The loser has to tell the winner a secret. It can be small, but it does have to be a secret. If you can’t think of one, the winner gets to ask a question,” I say.
“Fine by me. I’m an open book.”
“Uh-huh. Just deal.”
Jude wins, so I tell him about the time I ruined my mom’s new peach curtains but lied and said one of the boys did it.
Jude frowns. “That is the most boring secret I’ve ever heard.”
“I said it could be small. And she’d still be mad if she found out, so it counts.”
This time I win the han
d, so Jude sits and thinks for a second. “I told everyone I lost my virginity to Maureen Jensen when I was sixteen, but I actually lost it to a girl named Virginia Hutchinson in eighth grade.”
“Eighth grade? You were what, thirteen?”
“Yeah, but she was fifteen, so she was older and wiser.” Jude winks at me, and I laugh.
“Older and creepier. You were a kid.”
“I looked older. I was tall, even then, which was important to her because she was tall, too.”
“Were you in love with her?”
“I’ve never been in love.”
The beer I’m drinking goes down hard. “Have you ever been close?”
He stares at me with those blue, blue eyes. “That’s another secret, Elizabeth. So you’ll need to win to find out.”
I’m highly motivated to win now, but I lose anyway.
Jude leans forward. “Alright, lay it on me, but make it good this time. Don’t tell me about the time you accidentally let your dog get out of the gate or stole a waiter’s pen.”
“I can’t help it that my life has been boring.”
He taps the second and third fingers of his right hand on the table over and over. “Everyone’s life has stories worth telling.”
I sit there and let the night cocoon me. I know which secret I’m about to tell Jude, but I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because telling Ryan about my past left me disappointed and hollow. Or maybe it’s the cool air, or the stillness of the house, or just because I can’t help myself.
“I almost drowned my sophomore year of college.” I set my drink down and cross my arms.
“That’s awful, but why is it a secret?”
“Because I did it on purpose.”
Jude doesn’t say anything for a minute. “Why?”
“It was a few things. But mostly I thought I was in love with this guy. He was a bad boy, but I thought he was misunderstood. Fixable.”
Tell Me How This Ends Page 17