Page 36 of Unmasking You

My mum taught me to be kind to people, and even if I would have preferred not to have anything to do with him, we’re in a situation where we have to live together.

And that reminds me, I need to call her before she knocks at my door. How upset would she be if she knew I was taking care of Shane? That’s something I don’t want to see.

“Yeah, okay.”

I smile again because he reminds me of Queen and her eagerness when I pick the leash from the hook next to the front door. I miss her, but with Shane here in need of help to do everything, I couldn’t take care of her properly. In a couple of days, when Shane is more mobile, I’ll ask Ruby to bring her back so they can keep each other company.

He seems lonely.

Ugh. Why the fuck do I care? I’m getting soft… not that I was ever tough.

Am I splitting in two? One half sees Shane as the caring boy I once knew and that he’s been showing me since we met again. And the other half sees Shane as the petty, horrible boy who made my school days nearly impossible to live through, the boy who sent me to hell and never tried to save me.

How canShanebe both?

These vulnerable moments he has, as if he’s never been loved or taken care of, mess with my head. Sure, his dad was strange the only time I met him, but how can the life of someone so rich be anything close to horrible?

It can’t.

I walk back to the living room and quickly create a space for him to rest properly. I push the small table in front of the sofa closer and set a cushion on top so Shane can rest his leg. I place some other cushions against the backrest so he can sit straight, and his shoulder and wrist can rest comfortably on the armrest.

When I re-enter the room, Shane is trying to swing his leg off the bed, but all I can hear are his hisses of pain.

“Stop.” He freezes, and I realise how harsh my tone is, but I don’t want him to injure himself more. Only because if he does, he’ll have to stay here longer, I tell myself.

Liar.I ignore my brain.

“Let me help you.”

He mumbles something I don’t catch.

“What?”

“I know you don’t want to touch me, so I was trying to do it by myself.”

Why are my eyes wet? Why do I feel like a horrible person?

“It can’t be avoided. I don’t want you to injure yourself more.”

I remove the sheet and then help Shane sit straight. Once he’s balanced, I help him move the injured leg to follow the uninjured one.

I ignore the flicker of awareness that his touch provokes in me. We end up facing each other, and I look at him for the first time. His face is open, letting me see everything he feels inside: guilt, need, and hope.

It makes my heart gallop, but at the same time, it sends shivers of fear through me. I don’t want to be pulled in again. What if nothing has changed and he’s still the same person? Would he throw me away again, turn his back on me?

What I really want is to walk away, push all these feelings down, purge them from my system, and only then could I be in his presence again. But his downcast face and his meek demeanour are things I never associated with Shane. They tug at my heart, so against my better judgement, I wrap my arm around his waist and pull him up against me.

He’s heavy, and I stumble a bit, and his arm goes round my shoulders as if to keep me standing.

Our faces are so close that his breath washes over me, and his lips look as inviting as a plate full of sweets I can’t say no to.

Ignoring all these feelings, I concentrate on the task ahead, recovering quickly and manoeuvring us until we’re side by side. I should let go and let him walk with the crutch that I left next to the chair for him yesterday. Instead, intoxicated by his touch, I take a step forward. Then, one slow step after the other, we make it to the living room.

I gently turn around so I’m facing him again and help him slide down until he’s sitting on the sofa. Then I fuss around him to make him comfortable and give myself time to get my heart back to a normal rate.

Once again, I ask myself,why does it have to be Shane?

I’m glad he doesn’t speak, because otherwise I would’ve run away and hid in my room for the rest of the day like I did for the first three days he was here, only coming out to give him food and his pills. Or when he asked me to help him to the bathroom.

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