by R.S. Grey
“Just a bit of a scuffle with a bike. Next time, I’ll win,” I tease.
His smile is a flat line as he replies, “There was a car too. It nearly hit you both. I watched it swerve out of the way in the nick of time.”
The expression on his face contorts as if the memory makes him sick. I understand completely. My stomach tightens too, imagining how much worse off I would be right now if there’d been a car involved as well.
“But it did swerve,” I remind him. “So there’s no sense in worrying about what could have happened.”
His gaze flits up to mine and I flinch back, shocked by how much fury I see lurking under the surface.
“You don’t get it. This was horrible, Candace. Seeing you lying there on the street, bleeding from your head…”
At that, he turns and shoves his hand through his hair, as if he can’t even bear to look at me.
“I’m sorry,” I offer weakly. “I’ll be more careful next time.”
Is that what he’s after? An apology? Does he think I willingly put myself in harm’s way?
“Jesus, don’t apologize. You don’t apologize. None of this was your fault. It was my fault.”
“What? What do you mean?”
He wasn’t even by me when I stepped off the curb. He was trying to get to me, but there were too many people.
“I never should have let us walk to breakfast like that.”
“I walk places all the time!”
“Yeah, before.”
“Before…”
“Me!” he explodes.
The room fills with the aftershocks of his outburst, and we sit in absolute silence. He thinks this was his fault. He’s angry, but not with me.
“You didn’t invite those photographers there,” I say meekly. “They’re the ones to blame for all this.”
Maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut, because my words only seem to anger him more. His eyes are hot coals when he glances back at me.
“You don’t get it, Candace. This is the life I lead. It’s what comes with my career. The lack of privacy, the photographers—all the bullshit. It’s not just going to magically go away.”
“Well so what? I know what I’ve signed up for. Don’t you think I realize how serious this all is?”
“No. I don’t think you do. Not after this morning. That—” He shakes his head as if trying to dislodge the memory of it. “That can’t happen again.”
“Okay…so we won’t walk to breakfast for a while. Or y’know, next time we’ll use better disguises. Kat actually has these awesome wigs—”
He cuts me off. “Candace, you’re not getting it.”
His tone is sharper than ever before, and I can’t help but feel wounded. Does he think I’m a complete idiot? That I’m not going to be more careful next time?
Then our eyes meet again, and it suddenly clicks.
“What do you mean it ‘can’t happen again’?”
“I won’t let it.”
So that’s it then? This is how it ends?!
“Jesus, what a coward you’ve turned out to be! Just say what you’re tiptoeing around. I can’t stand it!”
“If it weren’t for me, this would have never happened.”
He’s the one with the soft voice now. I’m the one shouting and growing angrier by the second.
“You’re kidding me! What a load of piss! You’re worried because I’ve been hurt and now your way of making sure I’m okay is to break it off with me? Too bad! I’m breaking it off with you first. How’s that!”
Our voices must have carried out into the hall because there’s a knock on the door, followed by a gentle voice. “Hello? Is everything okay in here? Candace, I’d like to do a quick check of your vitals.”
Then a nurse walks in with tight braids and green glasses and a gentle smile.
“Yes, that’s fine. He was just leaving anyway,” I say, jutting my chin out toward Logan.
“Candace—”
“I can come back in a few minutes?” the nurse offers, glancing awkwardly between us. “Though I should warn you, Candace, you’ve been through quite a lot today, and I don’t recommend making it any worse…”
She’s trying to tell me to stop shouting at my boyfriend, and that’s fine. I’m done shouting at him. He can damn well leave for all I care.
“I’ll come back later,” he tells me as he starts to head out of the room, and because the pain of our argument still stings, I fire back a two-word response that I immediately regret.
“Don’t bother.”
He nods, turns, and leaves the room.
And just like that, we’re over.
The door slams and I let out an angry groan.
“Right, well…good riddance!” I shout in his wake. “Who needs a man like that anyway? I’ll show him. I’ll have a new boyfriend by the end of the day. Maybe I’ll meet a handsome doctor or nurse or janitor. I don’t bloody well care who he is. I’ll just make sure Logan knows I’ve moved on and he can go do whatever he damn well pleases. Breaking up with me like that when I’m already in hospital! Who does he think he is?!”
The nurse just blinks at me, a little taken aback. “Boyfriend troubles?”
“Not anymore! Have you got a single brother you could set me up with?”
She actually smiles at that, though she tries to hide it. “I don’t think you want to be set up with anyone just yet. Here, lie back and let me see your hand.”
“Oh, I assure you I do. I’m as single as they come. Completely solo as of, oh…thirty seconds ago.”
“If you ask me, I don’t think he was going to break up with you.”
“And how would you know?” I ask, all menacing.
She glances behind her and looks back at me, as if weighing her options. Then she shrugs and admits, “Well, I was listening at the door. I was supposed to come in a few minutes ago, but you two were really going at each other.”
“What a Nosey Nellie! Can’t say I blame you. Actually, it’s good that you were listening—you can give me some proper advice. So you don’t think he was going to break it off with me?”
She’s examining my hand when she replies, “No. It’s obvious he feels guilty. He’s the one who forced you into the limelight, and now look, it’s landed you in the hospital.”
I drum the fingers of my good hand against my chin, considering what she’s said. “It sounds bad when you put it like that.”
“Exactly. So it’s natural that he would want to reassess the relationship and make sure you’re still up for the challenge after all that’s happened. I think it’s actually really considerate of him.”
Her eyes have gone a bit moony.
“I can’t help but feel like you’re really taking his side.”
She shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a big fan.”
I roll my eyes. “You too? Sheesh. What is it with Americans and football? Is it all that interesting?”
“Oh, I don’t even watch the sport. I just know him from when he was on the cover of People last year. Have you seen it? They did this whole spread where he was only wearing his football pants and nothing else.”
Her cheeks have flushed, and I swear she’s really heating herself up talking about it. Pretty soon the poor thing will need to go into the loo over there and splash some cold water on her face.
“Oh jeez. Sounds utterly ridiculous.” I roll my eyes. Then I lean in close. “Can you pull up the photos and show me?”
I sigh into my mobile, antsy to end the conversation with my parents.
“I’m totally fine,” I assure Mum. “You don’t need to worry. They’re only keeping me here overnight to cover their bases.”
“Well that’s what it’s like being a proper celebrity.”
“Mum, I’m not a celebrity.”
“Say that to the press! You’ve been on the telly three times since I started watching this afternoon. They keep calling you the luckiest girl in New York or something like that. I taped one of the stories, but
then your Dad mucked it up and rolled some Arsenal footage over it.”
“That’s okay. I don’t really need to see it. I’m living it.”
“Right, right. So you’re sure you’re all right? No permanent damage? While you’re in hospital, you ought to see if they can check your head, right in the back behind your ear. I dropped you when you were a baby and I’m still a bit concerned I might have done some real damage.”
“Mum, I’m sure I’m just fine. And if I’m not, I’ve lasted this long, so there’s no sense in worrying.”
“Right. Well, I won’t keep you. Give Logan our love, dear.”
“Will do. Love you, Mum. Talk soon.”
After I hang up, I realize I didn’t correct her about giving Logan her love. It’s not really something I can do now, not after shouting at him like I did earlier. All afternoon, I’ve wavered back and forth between feeling as though this is all his fault and he should bloody well be sorry for the damage he’s caused then berating myself for taking things too far. I really did think he was going to break it off with me. He looked like men do right before they lay down the death blow to a relationship, all guilty and sad.
Bollocks!
I turn back to the food tray they brought up a little while ago. There’s a sandwich, a salad, an apple, and an empty chocolate pudding cup. I ignored most everything and devoured the pudding. When I was finished, I had my nurse—she’s called Jada and I think we’re proper friends now—sneak me up a second one. Then we looked at a few images of Logan from the People magazine shoot and I nearly foamed at the mouth. I mean, I knew he was hot—I did have him naked on top of me just this morning—but I mean, holy moly, someone grab me an ice pack so I can shove it down my gown. They’ve really turned him into a heartthrob, haven’t they?
“Is he good in bed?” Jada asked.
I sighed. “Brilliant, unfortunately. It’ll make this whole breakup business even worse, I fear. How am I meant to go from that”—I pointed at the image of Logan on her screen—“to a normal bloke off the street? It’s not fair, is it?”
“Exactly. I think you should try to make it work. If not for your sake, then for mine. Please, girl, I need to live vicariously through you.”
I’ve been thinking about what she said since she left, and I know I’ve got to do something. But first, I have other important things to manage. It’s past suppertime now and I still haven’t phoned Yasmine and Kat. I don’t want to worry them, but sooner or later, I’ll have to let them know what’s happened.
I already phoned Mrs. Halliday to let her know I’ll be out tomorrow. She made a big fuss and told me to stay out the first half of the week, just to ensure I’m really taking care of myself. It’s a relief; at least I don’t have to worry about my job at The Day School on top of everything else.
The door to my room opens, and I’m expecting Jada (though I’m secretly praying it’s Logan), but then there’s a blur of balloons and teddy bears and my two flatmates blubbering on about how worried they’ve been about me.
“Yaz! Get out of my way. You’re hogging the doorway.”
“It’s the balloons.”
It’s quite a struggle for them to get inside, and they sort of fall in together like a comic duo. Then they look up and see me in bed, and their eyes go wide in fear.
“OH MY GOD. HER HEAD IS BANDAGED!” Kat says, rushing toward me. “Are you dying?”
“No. It’s just a cut.”
“Yasmine, don’t just stand there! Get her water! Food! Something!”
“I’m fine, really.” I have to bat away the sandwich Kat picks up off my tray and tries to shove into my mouth.
“You poor thing. Are you in loads of pain? Want Yasmine to give you a bit of a foot rub? Yaz? Get to it.”
“I’m fine! I swear. No one touch my feet.”
Yasmine immediately stops trying to untangle them from the blankets.
“Where’s Logan? Down getting you something from the gift shop? Tell him not to bother—I think we’ve cleared out the place,” Yasmine says, dropping a load of things onto the end of my bed. There’s a box of chocolates, a little charm bracelet wrapped in a clear box, and a teddy bear wearing a pair of scrubs like he’s about to go perform surgery—and that’s just half of it. There’re about twenty balloons filling the air, bobbing up and down. I swat one away when it gets too close to my head.
“Are you two both mad?”
“We’re worried!” Kat whines. “You can’t even imagine! There we were, enjoying some wine on a Sunday evening, and then we turned on the telly and there’s our mate, splayed out on the street with sirens wailing around her!”
“They showed it on TV?!”
I thought Mum was exaggerating.
“Yes! It was part of the news and everything! Very big deal. Now, don’t worry. Your knickers were showing for a bit, and in my opinion, they weren’t your cutest pair—”
“Don’t make the poor girl feel worse,” Yasmine groans.
“Right, well, you did look quite nice when they lifted you up on the gurney.”
“Yes! Very brave. And of course, Logan looked absolutely handsome, worrying over you like that. For a little while I didn’t think they’d let him into the back of the ambulance with you, but then he shouted at them all heroic like. Wasn’t that brilliant, Kat?”
“Yes. Like something out of a movie. I cried a bit. And then we rushed here, of course, to be by your side, though I can’t stay for too long. Jay’s expecting me for a late drink, and Yaz has got to run to see Marcus too.”
“Oh good. Abandoning me already?”
“Well we figured you wouldn’t want us around anyway,” Kat continues. “Just getting in the way. Won’t Logan be back soon?”
“No.”
They exchange a worried glance. “What do you mean?”
“He’s gone. Left earlier after we had a shouting match. I sort of took things too far, I’m afraid.”
Kat nearly jumps on me in a panic, grabbing her mobile to shove at me. “Call him! Apologize!”
“I can’t. I mean…I don’t know if I want to. He really made me mad.”
“Who cares?! Swallow your pride and apologize anyway. That man loves you! He was about to fight a paramedic to get to you, I swear it.”
“Fine. I’ll call when you two clear out.”
“Okay, then we’re off.”
“Already?”
“Like I said, we’ll just get in the way.”
“Hospitals sort of give me the willies, to be honest,” Yasmine says, giving the room a quick look of disgust.
“Whatever. Go on. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Love you! Heal up!”
When they’re gone, I’m left with my mobile taunting me to have some courage and ring Logan. I hesitate at first, worrying about what I’ll say, but then finally, I give in.
It rings and my heart thunders in my chest like it never has before. I worry I’m overdoing it. My poor body has been through a lot in one day, and now I’m putting it through even more emotional upheaval. The call rings again and again, but I don’t hang up. I will him to answer with a silent plea.
It continues on like that four more times before his voicemail kicks on.
The preprogrammed robotic voice fills the air, and because I’m a total chicken, I hang up right when it beeps for me to leave a message.
Well then…at least I’ve tried. No sense in crying. Much.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Candace
“Could someone refill my tea?” I ask, wagging my empty mug from my comfy spot on the couch.
“You’ve got legs,” Kat says, without looking up from her mobile.
“Yasmine?”
Her inaudible gibberish tells me she’s not getting up either.
“Oh lovely! Where was this attitude when you two came rushing into my room at the hospital, worried sick?”
Yasmine yawns and stretches out on the other side of the sofa. We’re sharing, though she’s taking up wa
y too much room. I try to steal a bit more blanket and she yanks it back.
“Yes, well that was before you started milking our sympathy for all it’s worth. Kat, could you please stop shouting on the phone? Kat, could you please put your dish away instead of just letting it collect mold in the sink? I mean, truly, when will it end?”
“You’re right,” I drawl, monotone. “I’m practically Mussolini.”
“Glad you can see it from our side.”
When I stand, prepared to make my own tea even though I’ve got a head wound (!), Kat holds up her mug. “Oh, grab me some while you’re up, will you?”
I snatch it out of her hand and call her a wanker, but she pretends she can’t hear me.
“Thanks love.”
It’s Tuesday. I know because I’ve looked at the calendar on the fridge one thousand times since waking up. I haven’t spoken to Logan since Sunday, since he left my room at the hospital. He didn’t phone me yesterday, though I did a good bit of staring down at my mobile, willing it to ring. It got so bad that I locked it in my room for the afternoon, though even then, my gaze kept pinging to the door. I’d hear a phantom vibration and shoot to my feet, dashing into my bedroom, only to be disappointed by the fact that he hadn’t phoned me back. Once, Mum phoned, and I nearly chewed her head off for not being Logan. Then I felt bad and relented and had to sit and chat with her for ages to make up for my meanness. She walked me through the entire spring garden she’s planting, down to the type of soil she’s using to fertilize her delphiniums. You see, I’ve put a good bit of eggshells down in the dirt. Oh good Lord.
I put the kettle on and drum the fingers of my uninjured hand on the edge of the counter.
What is Logan up to anyway? Leaving me high and dry like this? I’d ask Yasmine and Kat, but they’ve banned any talk having to do with him. I suppose it’s fair. I did do a good bit of whinging yesterday, but can’t they understand? I lov—
No!
I cut off the tail end of that thought with a sharp axe.