Page 26 of Colt
That is the exact look I didn’t want to see on the face of a woman I wanted to hook up with. I don’t want to hook up with Sarah. I didn’t want to hook up with Sarah because when I met her, I thought she was pretty and interesting, and I’m the kind of person who gets along well with women even after we’ve slept together.
But obviously that wasn’t to be. Since she and Dallas were soulmates from way back. I didn’t know that when I was hitting on her.
And we never did sleep together, so her pity shouldn’t hurt. But it does.
“I’m fine,” I say, which is not true. I’m not fine.
“I’m glad you’re home,” says Dallas, stuffing his hands in his pockets.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“This is why I’m glad you quit,” Sarah says, grabbing Dallas by the arm.
“That’s insensitive,” I say. “To those of us who didn’t quit and got injured.”
She looks stricken. “Sorry.”
“I’m kidding.”
She still looks sorry she said it. And you know, I’m kind of here for that. Is it demonstrably different than pity? Am I being ridiculous? I feel like I have the right.
“Come in,” Allison says. “Sit down.”
“Yeah. Come in. Sit down. It’s almost like it’s your house.”
“It’s not. But you can’t get up,” she says.
“I can get up.”
“So,” Dallas says, ignoring my conversation with Allison. “What’s the prognosis?”
“Oh. I’ll be back to normal in a few months.”
I can feel Allison staring at me. That’s not what anyone said. But I don’t want to get into what was said. I don’t like it. It’s uncertain, and all it’s going to get me is more questions, more sad eyes. Offers of help, all kinds of things, I just don’t want to deal with.
“So, back to it next year?”
I think of the way that I was ground into the arena dirt, the feeling of the horn tearing through my body. “Yeah. I’m not going to be done until I win. And fucking Maverick has a pretty clear field without you or me. I’m almost tempted to tell you to go back. Though I know that would be an unpopular decision.”
Sarah looks murderous. “It would be a widow-making decision. I’m too young to be a widow.”
“You’re not married,” I say.
“Yeah. But we will be,” Dallas says, smiling at her. I like that my friend is in love. It’s a good thing. It also makes me feel like I’m on the outside of something that I can’t understand, which feels unfair, really. Dallas spent the first fifteen years of his life in foster care. He didn’t end up in a conventional family until he was a teenager, but somehow he’s in a great relationship.
Maybe because he knew her back then. Because she was always there.
I don’t know. I can’t claim expertise on this or anything else. Not as far as relationships go, anyway.
They stay for a while and shoot the breeze, and I’m reluctant to show how exhausted I’m getting, but sitting up, talking, engaging, while totally off of pain meds is fatiguing in a way I didn’t fully account for.
And it’s Allison who notices.
“You should probably get some rest,” she says.
“I’m fine,” I say. Knowing full well that it’s a lie.
“Oh yeah,” Dallas says. “It’s good to see you… Out of the hospital.”
