Page 7 of I'm Not Yours
We smiled at each other, one of his hands resting on my thigh where he’d fixed me up, burning me through, but comforting at the same time. Then all hell broke loose in the corridor. Instantly, Jace whipped around, threw open the curtain, and was gone. I heard yelling, swearing, and a man’s voice bellowing, “Let me go and be free,” and “You can’t make me go in this prison,” and “Shut up, weasels.”
I followed Jace, worried about him, about what was going on, when I saw a young man being restrained by two medical personnel. He was thrashing about, head back, eyes wild.
Jace walked right up, his white doctor’s coat billowing out behind him, and put a hand on the young man’s shoulder. Behind the young man I could see two people who were clearly his distraught parents.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Rios.”
The young man swore at him, stumbled a bit, then said, “I don’t want to be here!”
“I hear you, man,” Jace said. “A lot of people get the sweats walking into hospitals. I’m here because they pay me to be here. If there wasn’t a paycheck involved, I’d never set foot in this place. Never.”
I chuckled. I wasn’t surprised by what Jace was saying. He was always so quick on his feet, so entertaining.
“Everything’s white and sterile,” Jace went on calmly, as if he was conversing over a steak dinner. “There are shots here, bad-tasting medicines, all kinds of beeping machines, people in white coats rushing about who want to poke and prod you. No, I’d rather be biking.”
“Yeah?” the young man yelled, still belligerent, still being restrained but slightly calmer. “I don’t like it here. Yeah!”
“Yeah,” Jace said. “Biking or fishing for me, that would be a better place to be. What would you rather be doing?”
The young man looked confused. “I dunno, man! Maybe fishing for a shark. I know I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t mean to do that much of that white powder, and I only needed to chill out, you know, kick back? The whole thing messed with my brain and I don’t like it here.”
“I know, friend.” Jace patted the young man on the shoulder. “How about if you and I sit down and I’ll make sure you’re doing all right, and then we’ll send you back out and you can go fishing for a shark. How’s that sound?”
The young man struggled again, still confused, still fighting but halfheartedly. “Okay, but I’m not stayin’ in a hospital. No way. You can’t make me.”
“That’s right. I can’t.” Jace nodded. “It’s a free country, buddy, and you can make your own choices. But you look like someone I can sit down and talk to, and I need a break. I need to sit down, rest my feet. It’s been a busy day—a lady got kicked by a horse—so come on in this room and we’ll get things figured out.”
“Nah. No. I don’t want to go in a room. You might lock me up. Leave me there. I’d be alone. I gotta take off my clothes and my head is all screwed up and I itch and I’m seeing weird stuff in front of my eyes. Is there an elephant in that corner?”
“No. No elephant. We got rid of the elephants last week.” Jace put his hands out. “They took up too much room. But look here. There’s not even a door on this room. Only a curtain. You want out, you’re out. Come on in. Let’s talk. Five minutes. I know you’re busy.”
“I’ll give you five minutes,” the young man insisted, holding seven fingers up. “Five. I got things to do and my guitar is talking to me and I gotta get some Jell-O. I need Jell-O.”
“We have Jell-O here. I think it’s red. Or green. Can’t remember. We’ve got chocolate chip cookies, too, I think. I like those. Not as much as apple pie. Allie’s apple pie.”
I froze on my good leg as Jace turned toward me for a millisecond and grinned.
“Anyhow, I’ll have someone bring the Jell-O up. Come on in and hang with me for a minute.”
“Okay, doctor dude. I’ll do it. Let’s go, Mom.”
The young man’s parents, already limp with stress, sagged in relief when their son stopped fighting.
I didn’t want to stay in the hospital any longer, either. Hospitals make me nervous, too. All those shots, machines, scary things happening. But there was Jace. Gorgeous and kind. He was one reason to stay, but I knew I wouldn’t.
I limped out. As I passed, I listened to Jace speaking calmly to the young man, figuring out what drugs he’d taken; so soothing, so in control. I glimpsed the back of his head, that black hair I used to love to touch.
I started crying even before I walked through the hospital’s exit door. My tears lasted all the way down the highway, back into the country, by the vineyards and farms, and up to the seriously-needing-work white house my dad had left to me. Probably the only thing he had ever given to me.
My leg burned as I went up the stairs of the deck. I sank onto a couch in the family room, stunned. Seeing Jace again had knocked me down like a pitchfork to my heart. The pain was as raw and as fresh as the day we broke up.
Margaret and Bob put their heads in my lap and I petted them. Margaret whined. She’d lost her stuffed pink bear again. I got up to find it.
I didn’t think I’d see Jace again in my entire life.
Now he was back. Less than half an hour away, living here.
I wanted to hold that man, but it wouldn’t work. For many reasons, it wouldn’t work. I had done the unforgivable. Jace would not like me if he ever found out.
