by Shafer, Gina
I remain upright, keep nodding, keep telling everyone it’ll be fine. And then I feel arms around me. Strong, tender arms. Arms so full of everything I need that I fall apart at their touch, because I know they will hold me together. I collapse into these arms because I know who they belong to. When I look up, I’ll see striking green eyes. I’ll see a scruffy chin and that scar that almost creates an X near his lips. I breathe in the scent of vanilla and freshly chopped wood.
“I’ve got you, Whitley. Everything will be all right,” Nick says, and I let the tears flow. After being so afraid, it feels like everything is pouring out of me.
He takes me to his house and sits with me on the couch as the ambulance drives away. He doesn’t talk or move or demand a single thing from me, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
“She woke up in the middle of the night. I heard her crying. She was all alone out there. God, I didn’t think it would get like this, Nick. I should have heard her sooner!” I blubber, nose running and mixing with my tears.
He takes off his shirt and wipes my face with it, then brushes my hair back from my face. “Now that you know, you’ll be more alert.”
“I’ve got to get dressed and go to the hospital.”
“I’ll come with you,” Nick says. “Let me grab a new shirt.”
As he walks away I want to argue, but then I come up with every excuse in the book for him to come, if not only to keep his arms around me for a little longer. I realize I’ve only been in his house once before. I find myself wishing this was a different time so I could enjoy being here. I’m filled with worry and my heart is heavy with sadness, and don’t even get me started on the amount of guilt that swims through my head.
“Let’s grab your stuff,” he says as he swipes his keys from the kitchen shelf and guides me through his front door. We cross the lawn and go into my parent’s home. Most everyone on the block has gone back inside, now that the commotion has died down.
While Nick waits by the door, I throw on black yoga pants and a dark green tank top, followed by a black zip-up hoodie. I slip on my favorite tennis shoes and tie my hair up.
I don’t look in the mirror.
In my parents’ room I find clothes for Mom and Dad. Something comfy and easy to wear. On my way to join Nick, I stare hard at the spot where she fell, my spine tingling when I recall her wailing.
Nick comes up behind me. “It’s not your fault Whitley,” He says.
I kiss him then. I drop everything in my hands and kiss him. It isn’t sexy or hot and heavy, and it doesn’t go any further than our lips touching—hell, they don’t even move. I crush my lips against his, and he crushes back, and we stand there for a moment, wanting so badly to keep going but knowing deep down it’s not the right time. I release him and he pulls me back, kissing me lightly one more time before tucking my hair behind my ears.
“Let’s go,” he says.
I nod, picking up everything I dropped.
We don’t talk about the kiss on the way to the car and we don’t talk about it for the entire drive to the hospital. As a matter of fact, we don’t talk at all and I’m okay with that. When we finally arrive, I’m anxious as hell and I just want to talk with my Dad.
I rush inside the hospital with Nick, and we end up having to ask about four different people before we’re pointed in the right direction. We find a waiting room, and my heart stops when I see Dad sitting alone. He jumps up and hugs us.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“They’ve got her calmed down, and they’re running tests to see if she has any injuries from the fall. I’m so glad you’re here... both of you, but I’d better get back to her.”
“Okay. Come get me as soon as you hear anything,” I say.
He nods and then he disappears through a set of swinging double doors.
We sit for a while in silence. What is it about waiting rooms? Why is everyone so quiet? Is it out of respect or out of fear? Is everyone as scared as I am?
After about an hour, Dad returns. He tells us Mama will be okay. They’re going to keep her until mid-morning for observation and then she should be clear to go home.
“You can see her if you want, Whit,” he says.
I nod and hug him.
“You go on ahead,” Nick says. “I’ve got to check on Rose, she’ll be waking up soon, and I don’t want her getting worried that I’m not home.” He smiles. “I’ll be back with coffee, okay?”
“Oh, you don’t have—“
“That sounds great, Nick,” Dad says.
Nick turns to leave.
“Wait,” I call. He stops, and I rush to him. “Thank you so much for everything you did this morning.” I wrap my arms around him and breathe him in one more time.
“I don’t think you want me to kiss you with your dad watching,” he whispers, and I stiffen as he chuckles. “I’ll see you in a bit.” He looks into my eyes and nods as if doing so will make me nod too. And what do you know? It works and he seems satisfied.
Dad then takes me to Mom’s room, and we sit with her for a while as she rests. She’s confused and a little out of it, but doesn’t look seriously injured in any way.
I wish now, more than ever, that I could have a conversation with her. It’s funny all the times with her I took for granted. A simple phone call was something I didn’t take the time to treasure. How could I have known she was going to fade like this? I would have called her so much more. I would have picked her brain and learned about her. I would have—I don’t know. I would have done more.
I sit here, grasping her hand, trying not to wish she would just sit up and return to her old self. Laugh this off and come home, make us all a big pot of her famous chicken soup and live again. Actually live. Not just survive.
Tears fall to the thin white hospital blanket that covers her. She stirs, and I quickly wipe my eyes, knowing she gets concerned when she sees me cry.
“How are you feeling, honey?” Dad asks her.
She grunts and sighs, tiredly trying to sit up. We each take an arm and help her.
“You’re in the hospital, Mama. The doctors are giving you a checkup because you fell.”
“Oh.” Her voice is faint, almost like a child’s, and it comes out breathy.
“We’ll be going home soon,” Dad says. We’re probably hovering, and we probably look ridiculous, but we haven’t had many emergencies with her, and this one has shaken us to our core.
After a few minutes, Dad puts on the TV, tuning to a talk show. This ends up aggravating her, because she can’t understand what they’re saying. She asks question after question, struggling to speak, so we switch it off.
Nurses go in and out, checking on her for the next hour or so. The staff is amazing, and Mom gets all the extra pillows and blankets she could want. One of the nurses even offers to sit with her for a few moments so Dad and I can have a moment to breathe.
She’s starting to feel better. Hospital staff informs us that she officially didn’t suffer any injuries from the fall, but she’ll probably have a couple of nasty bruises. There’s a knock on the door, and Nick pokes his head in before he enters. I can’t stop the smile from plastering itself on my face if I tried. But I don’t try. I’m happy to see him. I don’t think I’ve ever missed someone as much as I’ve missed him these past couple of hours.
“I wasn’t sure what kind of coffee you liked, so I got plain black,” he says, setting down a tray with cups. He pulls out heaps of sugar and those little creamer pods from his jacket pocket, and I grow even more enamored.
I realize I’m staring, not getting coffee. I wipe the adoration from my face and fix a cup. Nick’s hand finds it’s way to the small of my back, and even in this dreary situation, my heart flutters.
“How are you feeling, Mrs. Hadfield?” he asks Mom as he moves away from me and settles in a chair beside her bed.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. It’s the most we’ve heard her say since we’ve been here. Her voice is still faint but a little more vibrant
. Dad and I throw each other a puzzled look.
“I brought coffee,” he tells her.
“Oh, you and your coffee, Bob,” she says, and I freeze.
Does she think Nick is Dad? I watch my father try to hide the fact that this has broken him. It’s on par with some of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
“Bob, did you get your coffee?” Nick asks.
“It’s right here.” He holds it up. “Did you want anything, Caroline?”
“No, Bob. That’s your thing.”
The weight lifts from the room. Nick diffused that bomb with ease.
“Knock, knock!” a doctor interrupts. He isn’t someone I’ve seen before, and judging by the look on Dad’s face, he doesn’t know him either. “How are you doing?” he asks.
We all politely say fine.
“I’m Dr. McKinley. So nice to meet you. My team has briefed me on what happened last night to this lovely lady.”
He walks over to Mama and shakes her hand. She’s confused, but his confidence reassures her.
Dr. McKinley addresses Dad. “I’m guessing Caroline has someone she sees regularly?”
“Yes, we go once every couple of weeks. We also do physical therapy every Thursday,” Dad tells him.
“That’s great. How’s that been going?”
“I’m sorry, but what is this about?” I ask.
“Forgive me, but I’m curious why safety measures haven’t been taken since you’ve declined sending Caroline to a medical facility. You have to understand even the safest of houses can be dangerous for those suffering from dementia and Alzheimer’s.”
“I—“ Dad begins.
“I want to make it clear how difficult it can be to take care of a loved one at this stage of the disease. Almost impossible, in fact. It may be time to explore other options. I have pamphlets for three different but equally amazing opportunities for your wife, Mr. Hadfield. I’d be glad to discuss them with you.”
“Is this something you normally discuss with a patient lying not two feet from where you stand?” I ask, anger boiling. Nick stands next to me, lending me support.
“I’m not—”
“If you have any suggestions on how to safeguard our house against situations like this in the future, by all means go ahead. Otherwise, we’d like to be discharged as soon as possible,” I tell him.
He swallows thickly, looking from Mom to Nick and me and then to my Dad before sheepishly excusing himself.
“Who the hell was that?” Nick asks.
“Not a clue, but Whitley ran him off just fine.” Dad laughs.
I grasp Mom’s hand. “You doing alright Mama?”
She nods and soon drifts off to sleep. I hold her hand until she’s finally released and can go home.
Nick drives us home. Mom asks to lie down. Dad looks pretty tired too. They quickly retire to their bedroom.
Once I finally sit down, I notice a few things have changed in the house. A motion sensor has been placed in a corner over the sliding doors.
“Did you do this?” I ask Nick.
“My sister and me. We did an Internet search and took a quick trip to the hardware store. The owner was good friends with my Dad and he didn’t have a problem with opening early so we could get everything we needed.”
“There’s more?”
“More sensors, and I set up some cameras. If she wakes up at night or whenever, you’ll be notified. I’ll help you set up the app on your phone later if you want. Otherwise the instructions are on your bedside table, along with the spare key I swiped from your purse at the hospital.”
“I can’t believe you guys did this.”
“It’s not much, but I think it’ll make it easier on you two.” He tucks his hands in his front pockets, and I can tell he’s a little uncomfortable. “I hope you don’t mind. I wasn’t sure if I was overstepping boundaries. I installed the same type of security system at the bar recently and I knew you would get good use out of it.”
“You thought I’d be angry?”
“I wasn’t sure what to expect. I wanted to help and I didn’t know how.”
“I could kiss you right now.” I’m floored someone would do this for me and my family.
“Don’t threaten me, baby,” he teases and then embraces me. “Ugh, I gotta get away from you.” He sounds pained as he pushes even closer.
“Why?” I chuckle.
He grinds against me. I feel his hardness against my leg, my mouth goes dry, and my heartbeat would rival a hummingbird’s.
“You drive me crazy,” he admits.
“I’m happy to know I’m not the only one,” I say.
“So are we any closer to deciding what the hell to do about… this thing between us?”
I look down at his crotch pointedly, smirking.
“Ha, very funny.”
“You said it, not me,” I say.
“In all seriousness, I’m going to try my best to keep it here on this level. I don’t want to push you, and I don’t want to rush into anything.”
“I agree,” I tell him.
I close my eyes, feeling his heat. He brings me to this place of peace so quickly, where I just give in to feeling him. I am absolutely insane for this man. I’ve got a familiarity for him like he’s already been inside me. Like we know each other intimately.
I’m about to kiss him when he sweetly plants a light kiss on my cheek.
“Get some sleep, Whitley. You can join me for a run later if you’re not busy.”
In a flash he’s gone. I’m thankful he hasn’t taken advantage of the fact that I turn to complete Jell-O when he touches me.
I go to bed; Coconut hops up and brushes against me, quickly settling into the crook of my arm. It doesn’t take long after my head hits the pillow for sleep to begin to pull me in. I don’t remember much after that.
I think I’ve forgotten how to run.
Okay, not really.
But the idea of running. Next to Nick. Sweating. Next to Nick. Panting, bodies hot, friction. So much friction.
I need to calm down. Think of something else Whitley. Damnit. Something unsexy. History class eleventh grade, when Mr. Aveila tried to liken you to the Mona Lisa but ended up creepily saying you were bustier.
There. That’s better.
I didn’t have a chance to prepare for this. Okay, that’s a lie. I had all day, but to be fair we’ve been kind of sluggish around the house because of last night, and it took a while setting up the app for the new security system Nick installed.
I made dinner but none of us had much of an appetite. Mom and I ended up sharing a scoop of chocolate ice cream after, and even though she was having trouble putting sentences together, it was the most fun I had all day. I helped her with the spoon, and she giggled at every little thing. It’s hard not to laugh with her, even when there’s nothing to laugh at.
We were sitting in the living room while dad read a few old letters from Mama’s friends. I found them in the closet when I finished cleaning it out the other day. She’d saved high school notes and love letters to my Dad. I thought it would be fun to read them.
My phone buzzed and my stomach dropped.
Nick: You up for a run, pretty girl?
Pretty girl. I’m positive, if anyone else had used this line on me, I would gag. Like physically gag. But when he uses it, I somehow understand it isn’t for anyone’s benefit other than mine. He wants me to feel pretty. Therefore he calls me pretty.
Me: Now?
Nick: You tell me.
Me: I could handle a light jog.
Nick: I’m sure you could handle a lot more than that.
Me: Is that supposed to be some sort of penis innuendo?
Nick: Are you thinking about my penis?
Me: No
Nick: Whitley
Me: I’m not! I’m getting dressed in running-appropriate clothing.
Nick: So you’re thinking about my member while you’re naked? I’m blushing.
Me: You’re so funny
.
Nick: So nice of you to notice. Meet me out back in 3 minutes.
Me: Three minutes? Not 2? What about 1?
Nick: Just rubbing a quick one out before we go... thinking about you naked, thinking about me naked.
Me: Uhhhh
Nick: I’m kidding. Just get out here.
I get ready to run, grinning like an idiot the whole time. I let my Dad know where I’ll be and give Mama a kiss on the head as I leave.
Nick is dressed in loose running shorts and a muscle tee that dips low under his arms. It gives me a look at the delicious peaks and valleys of his muscles. And he’s stretching. He smiles, and I swear I hear thunder crack. Hallucinations must be on the forecast today.
“You ready?” he asks.
“It’s been a while,” I admit. I do a few stretches, remembering my favorite from when I used to be an avid runner. “And I’ve never done it on the beach.”
Nick laughs, and I hear what we’ve just said. I guess we’re sticking with sexual innuendos.
“Shut up.” I hide a smile behind my hand.
“Don’t cover up now,” he says, and then he’s off.
I struggle to get my pace up to his, but once I do, I feel alive. I’m also winded, and I feel like dying. The dichotomy is interesting, but I’m not one to question, so I go with it.
I didn’t realize how much I missed this. The fight to push another stride forward, the feeling of my lungs filling and emptying completely—it’s exhilarating, and I hate that I gave it up.
We slow after a while, because I fall behind. My stamina isn’t what it used to be, but I’m so proud I made it this far. I’m covered in sand, and I don’t even care. Nick stops behind a dune and sits down, spreading his legs in front of him. I do the same, except I lay flat and groan like a walrus.
“Do you need mouth to mouth?” Nick asks, humor in his voice.
“Just give me a minute to come back to life.”
“Have some water.” He offers me his bottle, and I struggle to sit up halfway before downing a few gulps.
“Better?”
I nod. Once my breathing returns to normal I look around. There isn’t a soul in sight. We’ve run under a fishing pier.