Sensing Serafina

by Elisa Ellis

  Flexing my knee is so much easier in the water than in the gym, but it still hurts, the grimace on my face betraying my attempt at maintaining a brave face.

  “You alright? Here, let me help you,” he says, noticing. With one hand on my thigh pushing downward, he uses his other hand to gently push my calf up. I can’t extend it all the way or bend it very far yet.

  “Ok, ok, ok. Just be careful,” I say, breathing through the pain.

  “Ok. You’re fine. Just relax and let’s push it as far as it will go. I don’t want you to be in serious pain, but you do need to push yourself.”

  After about twelve reps, I get to take a break before the next set.

  “So, did you get a new bathing suit?” Brett asks me. I had been wearing a one-piece that didn’t fit well and he knew how much I hated it because I complained several times about it.

  “Yes,” I tell him, smiling.

  “Looks nice. And I like this,” he says, pointing to a small tattoo that is peeking out from the suit bottom on the inside of my right hip.

  “Oh, crap. I didn’t realize it was showing. My dad doesn’t know about it, so please don’t tell him. Ok?”

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “It’s a little red heart locket.” I don’t tell him the story behind it.

  “What does this one mean?” I ask Cal, lying on the couch after making love. My fingers trace the gold wings extending out from behind a grayscale skull with a red rose beneath it. The tattoo on Cal’s chest is quite beautiful and sexy as hell, I might add.

  “It represents freedom,” he tells me, caressing my hair. “I can’t wait to get on my bike and just ride. You and me; we will see it the world. It’s gonna be fucking amazing.”

  “As long as I’m with you,” I add. “And this one?” I ask, touching his bicep where a tiger looks like it’s crawling up to his shoulder.

  “Ha, that was my first one. I just thought it looked cool,” he says, chuckling.

  “It looks good, very realistic, if you could actually have a little tiger crawling up your arm,” I say, laughing with him.

  Before I can examine the others, Cal silences my questions with his mouth on mine, kissing me deeply. “God, I love you,” he whispers.

  “I love you, too,” I profess while looking into his eyes.

  “You never judge me. I know you’re better than me, but you don’t care that I have tattoos, that I’m different.”

  “Of course I don’t care. Cal, if you could see what I see, maybe you would understand. I mean, yeah, I think you’re super freaking hot, but you are truly beautiful. It’s who you are. I’ve never had someone care about me like you do. I trust you completely.”

  He pulls my head to his chest and kisses my head, embracing me. “You are beautiful, Sera. There’s no comparison.”

  “Thank you. Hey, would you take me to get a tattoo, too? Like, soon?”

  “Seriously? I’d love to take you. The guy who has done mine is pretty good. Let me see if he’s free anytime soon,” he says, getting his phone out to text. “What do you want to get?”

  “I’m not sure. Do you have any ideas? Are you going to get another one, too?”

  “I could. Hell, I wouldn’t mind getting a new one every week. Once you get one, it’s hard to not want to go back and get more every chance you get.”

  “I’m thinking I should start out small, like maybe something here,” I say, pointing to the inside of my right hip right above my panty line. “I need to be able to keep it covered so my Dad doesn’t see it. I don’t want to give him any reason whatsoever to freak out.”

  “Mmm, so sexy,” he says, touching the spot tenderly. “Sounds like a good plan,” he agrees. “How about we get tattoos that go together, something that will mean something to us. I want you to always remember me when you look at it. Like, maybe you could get a heart locket, and I could get a key. I’ve seen different ones together, but it would be cool to each have part of it.”

  Bringing my hand to my mouth, I exclaim, “Oh my God, babe. That sounds perfect.” I can’t help the tears in my eyes; I’m so moved and happy.

  With his thumb, he wipes my eyes while cradling my face in his large, strong hands.

  He is my safety and my freedom. I can’t wait to spend every moment of my life with him.

  “Hmm, it’s sexy. I would have never had you pegged to have a tattoo,” Brett tells me, breaking my memory. And I’m back to reality, my dreams suspended in recovery.

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  “It’s a compliment. Why are you all of a sudden down?”

  “I’m ok. I was just thinking about my boyfriend. Sorry.” While I’m flattered by his attention, I don’t want to lead him on. No one will ever be a substitute for Cal. He’s permanently etched on my skin, and in my heart.

  “Ok, let’s go ahead and get you on the treadmill for the remaining thirty minutes.” Changing the subject abruptly, I’m afraid I’ve offended him. But gosh, just because he’s cute, I’m not going to fall all over him. I don’t even acknowledge him as I walk through the water to the end of the pool where there is another section with treadmills. Honestly, I need a break from his flirting.

  Now

  “What should I wear to your art show on Friday?” I ask Mandy.

  “Do you have anything that’s nice but not too dressy?” she asks me.

  “Nothing that I really like or that fits me well. I mostly brought casual clothes since I couldn’t pack everything. Plus, most of my clothes are too big right now.”

  “You wanna go shopping? It would be fun,” she says, singing out the word, “fun.”

  Clapping my hands like the overenthusiastic dork that I am, I jump up and down and squeal. “Yes! I haven’t been shopping in forever, and I haven’t wanted to go by myself. Are you off tonight?”

  “No. I have to work until close. How about tomorrow? We could go after work then.”

  “Yes. I’m off at 5 tomorrow. I’m so excited. I love new clothes,” I tell her.

  “Me, too.”

  The knock on my door has to be Mandy. Nobody else knows where I’m staying.

  “Just a second,” I yell, heading to unlock and open the door while putting my other earring in. I haven’t even really fixed up in forever. The little black dress I found when I was shopping with Mandy is sexy but not too risqué. Falling about mid-thigh, the sleeveless, fitted fabric with a lace overlay has a plunging v-neck in the back. It’s the only part about which I feel self-conscious, but Mandy insisted I get it. Opening the door wide, Mandy steps in.

  Whistling, she yells, “Girl, you look hot!”

  “Thank you. Are you sure it’s not too short?”

  “No. I mean, yes.” Laughing, she adds, “You know what I mean! Really, you look great!”

  “Dude, you look great, too!”

  Twirling, she responds, “Thanks!” She’s not lacking in confidence, which makes me laugh, but I’m thankful for her friendship because she helps me come out of my shell.

  I can’t wear heels yet. Having been clumsy before the accident, my balance has definitely not improved since. Sometimes it’s disappointing, but at least I found some cute, strappy sandals that look good with the dress. They are black and silver, and they tie in nicely with the silver jewelry I found to match it.

  “You would think we were headed to a club instead of an art show,” I say, laughing.

  “I told you there are hot guys at my school. We can’t go looking all crappy, you know.”

  “True. It’s kind of fun getting all dressed up anyway.”

  “It is. Now, let’s get out of here.” Mandy drives a black Mustang. The leather seats and new features are so fancy compared to my old Bronco. I love my car, but Mandy’s is super nice.

  “I love your car, Mandy.”

  “Thanks. It was my graduation gift.”

  “Wow. How nice!”

  “Yeah, I love it, and I’m definitely thankful, but my parents don’t give nice things without strings attache
d. I will be glad when I can get out from under them.”

  “I can understand that.”

  Walking in together, I try to borrow some of Mandy’s confidence. She notices me wringing my hands.

  “Dude, chill out. It’s only an art show.”

  “I know,” I say, giggling. “But I haven’t gone out in a long time, and I think this dress is all of a sudden shorter,” I add, tugging at the bottom.

  “No, it’s fine, so leave it alone. Just come on ya big dork. Pretend you are going to a museum.”

  Laughing more, I tell her, “I haven’t been to a museum since my third grade field trip, and I wouldn’t have worn this dress in third grade.”

  “I’m seriously gonna have to get you out more,” she says, cracking up.

  Entering the glass double doors of the Civic Center, we follow the small crowd to one of the larger event rooms.

  “Why is this here instead of at the college?” I ask her.

  “Because it is a show for the city and surrounding areas. Our work will be exhibited, but there will be different kinds of art from all around here.”

  “Oh wow. That’s cool.”

  People mingle around the large room filled with paintings, sculptures, drawings, woven rugs, jewelry, among other various art forms.

  “Come on. I get extra credit for being here, so before we look around, I want to see if I can find my teacher to let him know I came,” Mandy says, pulling me.

  “Ok.”

  One large section appears to include multiple projects from the school, identified by a sign in a metal stand. Mandy stops to talk to her instructor while I wander off. She catches up with me as I near the collection of sculptures.

  “Where is yours?” I ask her.

  “Right there,” she says, pointing to a small clay figure, clearly molded into some type of bird.

  “What is it?” I tease her.

  “Shut the hell up. Obviously, it’s a bird,” she giggles. “I told you I’m no expert.”

  “No. I was just teasing. I like it,” I tell her. There are probably twenty different projects lined up against the wall on a long cloth-covered table. Each has a framed title and artist card identifying the work.

  “Look at this one, though,” Mandy tells me, pulling me to a separate round table centered in the room, as if to showcase it.

  Turning around, I stop completely, before walking slowly to inspect it closer. The clay sculpture is larger than the others and extremely beautiful. A large heart stained red with intricate designs and a keyhole in the center stands about six inches off of the table, suspended in the air with metal wires that create an almost invisible stand. Attached to the heart is a golden key with a clay chain, but one of the links in the middle of the chain appears to be broken. The entire sculpture appears weathered, as if it’s ancient, but the spotlight shining on it reveals its true beauty. Breathless, my eyes become glassy, my hand coming to cover my own heart.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper.

  Noting my reaction, Mandy responds, “I know. It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”

  Nodding, I feel a loss for words, but I’m looking for the little card identifying the artist.

  “Mandy, who made this?” I ask her, thinking it’s surely a coincidence.

  “That blind guy that I was telling you about that’s in my class,” she says.

  “But…”

  And then I feel it. Flickers of hope, of love. Sparks, as if a lighter is almost out of fluid, the flint still devoted, still hanging on. Heat fills my body, consuming my thoughts. It’s like everything in the room disappears, the white noise surrounding me, background for a single moment. Turning around, I see him standing across the room accompanied by a guide dog. Sunglasses mask his face, but I can feel him.

  “Mandy, what is his name?”

  “Whose?”

  “The guy who created this.”

  “Oh, umm, Chris, or Curt…something like that? Why?”

  “Cal?” I whisper.

  “That sounds right. Why are you…? Oh my God, Sera. Cal? Your Cal?” She asks, realizing suddenly.

  “What should I do?” I feel like I’m going to freak out. Partly because he’s here, within steps from me, but partly because I never thought about how he was affected by the accident. Shocked and sad, I have my hand over my mouth, taking it all in.

  “Talk to him.” She encourages me.

  But before I can decide anything, he’s walking towards me. It looks like he is staring right at me, but he can’t see, right?

  Stopping a step away from me, he tests me.

  “What do you see in this sculpture?”

  Does he sense it’s me? Oh my God.

  “Us?” I whisper, questioning. Confirming.

  And his head falls, tears streaming down his cheeks.

  “Cal?” I don’t know what to say.

  “It can’t be,” he says.

  “What?”

  “You. You were gone. I don’t understand,” he says, wiping the tears. “She said you were gone.”

  “Who said I was gone?”

  “My mom. I asked about you, but she said you were gone. Oh God, Sera. I thought you were…” he says, clearly unable to continue, to say it out loud.

  “My dad…he took me to a hospital in Dallas. I’ve been there ever since. But I came back. To find you.”

  “Great. And look what you found. I’m broken Sera. As you can probably tell by looking at me. I mean, I can’t be who I was anymore. I can’t even take care of myself, much less you. You need to find someone who is better for you.”

  “Are you kidding me, Cal?” My raised voice draws unwanted attention so I lower it. “We are both broken Cal. God, I’ve been through hell. My legs were broken; I had a shattered knee; I’ve been through multiple surgeries and rehab. It’s been horrible, but I’m here now.”

  “I’m sorry. I wish I never would have taken you on my bike. I’m so sorry, Sera.”

  “I’m not angry with you, Cal. Can we just go talk somewhere?”

  “I don’t know. It’s like, I couldn’t stand the thought that you were gone, that I caused it, but now, I’m afraid I can’t be the man you need.”

  “Cal,” I say, grabbing his hand.

  He squeezes it for one minute before letting go, the tears escaping beneath his dark glasses once again, and he turns to leave. And I’m not broken anymore.

  I’m shattered.

  Chapter 24

  Before

  “Dad, Brett told me himself. He thinks I’m ready, that I can just come in as outpatient.”

  “Yeah, but I want to make sure the doctor and the physical therapist in charge agree. Ok?”

  “Is there some reason you don’t want me to come home?” I ask him.

  “Of course not, honey. You know I want to spend as much time with you as I can, but I don’t want to rush anything.”

  I’ve followed Dad to the main office where we are waiting on the small loveseat on the other side of the secretary’s desk. Near it is a living room area, kind of a common area for patients that is not too far from the cafeteria. The rooms are only separated by a half-wall to allow for an open concept.

  While waiting to see the director, I grab Brett as he is walking by.

  “Can you please talk to my dad? He doesn’t believe I’m ready to be discharged.”

  Shaking my father’s hand, he begins a conversation. Because I’m so frustrated, I decide to sit in the nearby living area. Hopefully, Dad will listen to Brett if I’m not involved. It’s when they lower their voices that my interest is piqued. Without making it obvious, I walk towards the window that leads to the courtyard because it’s a little closer, within hearing distance.

  “Why did you tell her she’s ready? We discussed this when she was admitted,” I hear my father say.

  “Because she is. She doesn’t need to be here anymore, and we both know it.”

  “But I’m not seeing progress.”

  “Yeah, she’s shut me down every time. It
’s not gonna happen, sir,” Brett says, sounding frustrated.

  What in the freaking hell?

  “Well, then I guess you can tell your grant goodbye, huh?”

  My father doesn’t continue to wait to talk to anyone else but instead briskly walks to me and tells me to start packing.

  And I am livid. Not because I’m leaving, because believe me, I’m more than ready, but because my father, and Brett, have obviously betrayed my trust, yet again. Disgusted, I can’t even make eye contact with my father. I haven’t decided whether or not to confront him either, because right now, all I can think about is getting far away from here. From everything.

  It’s very strange entering my house considering I’ve never lived in it before. Dad told me he moved and bought a home here, but it feels wrong. My room is full of boxes. My belongings packed by someone other than me. Infected. With the poison of untruth. Loyalty and honesty compromised, running through the veins of a home belonging to someone else.

  My father’s narrow-minded master plan is selfish.

  I can forgive him, eventually. But his ironic plan to keep me close pushes me further and further away.

  Now

  “Please take me home,” I tell Mandy. She stood witness to the conversation I had with Cal.

  “Ok,” she says, softly. “Let’s go.”

  Where do I go from here? I can’t go back to living with my father, as his pawn. I just can’t. And I still want to talk to Cal, but I can’t exactly force him to listen. To keep loving me.

  With one week left in the cabin, I have never felt so conflicted and confused in my entire life.

  “It’s all going to be ok,” Mandy assures me. She didn’t want to leave me alone, so I loaned her some pajama pants and a t-shirt so she can stay the night with me.

  “I don’t know, Mandy. I really don’t see how anything is ever going to be ok again. And I can see how you think I’m being overly dramatic, but what would you do? I mean, my father is not an option, and God, Cal…” My tears take place of words. Burying my head in my pillow, I scream. I’m sad. Frustrated. Angry. “It’s just not fair. I worked so hard to get back. To me and to him, and he just pretty much dumped me.”