Page 48 of Defending What is Mine

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sam:Present—February (One day after Jack’s transfer stateside)

With a boarding pass in one hand and a carry-on in the other, it takes everything in my power to ignore the pretzel place as I pass by. Until now, it’s only ever been a happy memory. Something I could think back on fondly when I found myself especially sad, or worried. Now I wonder if I’ll ever be able to look at it again. Like, ever. Considering the only thing I’ve received from Jack since his accident is silence, I’d have to say the jury’s still out on that one.

I’m trying to remain understanding about his lack of communication, and have reminded myself, oh…a hundred times today alone that I’ll be able to look him in the eyes and hear his voice soon. That all the waiting and worrying will be over. But part of me wonders if I’m learning what I really mean to him. That I was nothing but a fun distraction and now that the chips are down, I don’t even warrant a moment’s thought.

I lock up those fears and do my best to throw away the key, though I know they’ll be back. Those suckers are better than Houdini at getting out of locked spaces.

We arrive at our terminal with at least twenty minutes to spare so, considering who my flying companion is, I realize it may be smart to have a plan for entertaining myself over the course of the trip. Leaning forward, I raise off my hip to retrieve my phone from my pocket and happen to glimpse Chet sitting uncomfortably to my left. His hat rests on his knee as he warily scans the terminal, seemingly on the lookout for strangers who might try to force him into polite conversation.

Yep. Definitely need to make entertainment a priority on this trip.

I lean across the armrest and place my hand on Chet’s shoulder. “Hey, since we have a little time, I think I’m going to check out that shop we passed. Is there anything I can bring you?”

Before I even speak, Chet jerks in his seat, his eyes locking onto mine like a ship’s captain happening upon a lighthouse in a terrible storm. Behind them I see stress and worry. “Thanks ma’… uh, I mean, Sam. But I’ll be fine,” he says as he grabs his hat and begins to stand. “Never really felt comfortable around this many people. Hazards of spending the bulk of your life with cattle, I guess.”

Hearing Chet acknowledging his vulnerabilities is not something Hank prepared me for. “No, you sit. Relax. No need to come. I just realized I don’t have anything to read for the flight. Sure I can’t interest you in a snack or something while I’m up?”

Chet offers a polite smile and a curt shake of his head.

As I start for the shop, I remember my carry-on and turn back. “Mind keeping an eye on my bag? I promise not to be too long.” Chet nods, but doesn’t speak. I blow a heavy breath through my mouth and drop my arms to my side. Everything about this little trip is stacking up to seem like a massively bad idea. “Thanks. I’ll be back in a flash.”

On my way to the shop, I wonder what it was like for Jack growing up in such a large family. From the outside looking in, it seems likely there must’ve always been someone around. But at the same time, if that someone was Chet, what does that really mean? Certainly not that he always had someone to talk to. For whatever chaos Mol and I might’ve endured growing up, we always had each other. There’s no questioning that. And we both always knew it.

I take my time at the shop, happily perusing the assortment of books and magazines. Even still, after all the hem-hawing and meandering, I make it back with time to spare—and just in time to hear the woman at the gate announce that our flight’s been delayed due to weather. Phe—freaking—nominal!

* * *

Jack: Present—One day after his transfer stateside

“Well, Mr. Wilde?” asks the fun-sized blonde with the happy smile and kind eyes that remind me so much of home. She stands at my bedside with her arms half-raised, anxious to hear my thoughts on the room. A room that—in my brutally honest judgement—doesn’t have two cents’ worth of difference from the temporary space they stuck me in when I arrived last night. “What do you think?”

In the few minutes since meeting this woman, she’s given me no reason to believe she has anything but the best of intentions. Every word out of her mouth has dripped with positivity. So why can’t I look her in the eye? I impatiently rub my temples. “Look…what’s your name again? Gabby?”

The woman’s enthusiasm falls slightly as she nods.

She has my niece’s name, and I could so easily imagine Gabe’s daughter growing up to look and act like this. That should bring me comfort, but it doesn’t.

Is it because she reminds me of everything I’ve lost? Everything I know I’ll never have again?

Joy.

Happiness.

Sam.

God help me, I’ve got to stop holding on to what was. Or better said, what wasn’t meant to be. I know damn well actions have consequences. And I know by ghosting on her after the accident, I was choosing to let her go. Now it’s time to cowboy up and do it. Besides, a woman that beautiful, that all-around amazing has probably already found someone to fill my void. Shit, if I’m honest with myself, why should I think she waited until the accident? Six months is a long time. And it’s not like we knew each other all that well to begin with.

“Listen Gabby,” I begin with a cruel tone. “I’m sure you’re just trying to be polite…or whatever, but seriously, what do you want me to say…?” I lie back on the bed and roll onto my side, away from her. “The trip stateside was as much of a nightmare as you could imagine. The meds I’m on aren’t doing shit for my pain. And on top of all that—in case that isn’t enough for you—if tonight ends up like most, I’ll be lucky to find three hours of sleep. So, please understand that while I’m sorry your pep talk didn’t wow me quite the way you hoped, I honestly just don’t have it in me to play the good little soldier for you, okay?”

I focus on the cream colored wall while I wait for her reaction. A few seconds pass. Silence. Then a few more. Still nothing. Curiosity eventually gets the better of me and I crane my neck back to make sure she hasn’t left. To my surprise, she hasn’t. Looking her over, I’m not entirely sure she’s breathing. When her eyes land on mine, I watch her deflate in front of me like a burst balloon and I feel like the worthless piece of scum I know I’ve become.

Call it exhaustion, call it cognitive dissonance, call it top-shelf assholery, but instead of backing off, instead of apologizing, I decide to push ahead, doubling down in the process. “What? I mean, seriously…did you really think once I got here and saw the hospital bed, I’d start feeling better? Did you think your little spiel and your big smile would somehow be enough to convince me to start getting better? That if you stayed positive and maybe shook your ass on your way out you could single-handedly kickstart my recovery?”

Her expression is no longer one of deflation. She looks razed.

As soon as the words leave my mouth I regret giving in to my anger, and regret even more unleashing it on a stranger, but at this point the damage has been done. “Like I said, I’m sure you’re just trying to keep it positive, but at the end of the day you get to walk out that door, gather your things, and go home to the rest of your life. Meanwhile, I’ll still be tethered to a goddamn hospital bed. I’ll still be stuck relying on others—such as yourself—to help me with…hell, everything. And…I’ll be the one who’s got to learn how to fucking walk again because I’m not a whole person anymore. So yeah…please forgive me for thinking this feels like a same shit, different day kind of scenario.”

---