Page 31 of Holding On

"I'd rather not talk about her."

"It's an open invitation." I point to the wheelchair. "As you can see, I'm not going anywhere. So if you ever want to stop by and talk, about anything, feel free. As long as sports aren't on in the background, I'm a good listener."

"Mike's the same way. If there's a game on, he tunes me out. It's like I'm not even there."

I'm finished with my burger so I shove my plate aside. I drink the rest of my soda and set that aside too.

And then, for some reason, I tell her something that I try to pretend isn't true.

"You were right," I say.

"About what?"

I look into those big brown eyes of hers that seem so honest. So caring. So interested in what I have to say.

"I was lonely." Telling her that was harder than I thought it would be and I can no longer look at her, my eyes forced down to the table. "Before you got here, I was lonely."

She's quiet and I'm wondering what she's thinking, desperate to know if she thinks less of me for admitting that.

"There's nothing wrong with that, you know? Being lonely? Everyone is at some point."

I just nod.

"Why were you afraid to tell me?" she asks.

I look up at her. "I wasn't. It's just not something I like to admit. I should be able to be alone and be okay with that."

"For a few hours, maybe, or a few days, but it sounds like you've spent most of the past month alone. That's enough to make anyone lonely. It's nothing to be ashamed of. It doesn't mean you're weak or needy. I don't know if that's how you're feeling but—"

"It is," I say, amazed that she knew that without me even telling her. "That's exactly how I feel. That's why I didn't want to say it. Or even think it. I keep telling myself I'm okay being alone. That I like it. But the truth is, it sucks."

"Well, if you ever want some company I'll come over." She smiles. "I don't lead the most exciting life so I can't promise to come here with any exciting stories, but I can keep a conversation going."

"That's good enough for me." I reach over and slip my hand around hers on the table. "Thanks for dinner. I'm really glad you came over."

"I am too." She holds my gaze for just a moment, then glances away.

I feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through my chest. Is it excitement? Hope? I'm not sure how to label it but it's almost like the feeling I get when I'm about to go on the field before a game. Is it because I'm holding her hand? Or because she's staying? Or because she said she'd come over again? I don't know the reason. All I know is that I like this feeling. It's one I haven't had with other girls and it's one I want to feel again.

"So what'd you do today?" She plucks a potato chip from the bowl and pops it in her mouth, her other hand still linked with mine. I thought for sure she'd pull it away by now.

"I slept in, then sat outside for an hour, had lunch, did some laundry."

"Laundry? You're doing my job now?" She smiles.

"I can do my own laundry. It's the dusting and vacuuming I can't do."

She glances at my wheelchair. "So when can you switch to crutches?"

"Hopefully next week. I see the doctor on Wednesday."

"You need a ride? Depending on my schedule, I might be able to take you."

"I'll just take a cab."

"Cab's cost a lot and my van is easier to get in and out of."

"My parents are both lawyers and keep my bank account loaded up so money's not a problem, but thanks for offering."

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