Page 14 of Derek
“Oh, you brought me my bag.” I smile and reach out for it. Derek sets it in my lap before looking around the room again, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Well, I better go. Do you want me to turn on your television or something?” I shake my head.
“Doesn’t work.” His face falls.
“So wait, what have you been doing here this whole time?” I give him a small shrug.
“Singing mostly. Practicing putting dimes into a cup.” I watch as he sits down in the chair next to my bed.
“Why are you putting dimes in a cup? Is it like quarters?” I laugh lightly and shake my head.
“No! It’s to help my hands. It helps with weakness.”
“Is that what happened in the hotel?” He asks solemnly. “Did you try to get out and you were too weak?”
“Sort of?” I scrunch my face as I think about the incident. “It was my fault, really. Ash got me an accessible room, but they didn’t have a walk-in shower, and the shower bars were too far for me to reach, so I stupidly grabbed the towel bar.” I shake my head. “I should’ve sat on the edge and spun myself in, but the last time I did that, I slipped and fell into the tub, and Ash had to get me out; talk about humiliating.” I try to joke lightly.
He is silent for too long. I glance up and am shocked to find he is staring intently at me. I give him a nervous smile as some war continues to wage in the depths of his brown eyes. After a moment, he growls in frustration before standing up.
“What in the fuck is wrong with you?” I’m taken aback by his sharp tone and the accusatory finger as he points it at me.
Furrowing my brows, I slowly respond, “Well, I have MS and–” He waves his hand.
“I’m not dense. I know what you have. I asked what is wrong with you? You are this sick, and it doesn’t occur to you to live in a more accessible place? To live with someone? To ask a fucking nurse to fix your television so you aren’t sitting here playing with fucking dimes and singing to yourself?” He sounds so upset, and I’m confused as to why this is bothering him so much.
“Derek, I don’t know why you’re upset with me. If I’ve done something–”
“Oh my God, Indy!” He groans in annoyance. “That right there. Why would you say that to me? I’m being a complete ass right now, and you are about to apologize for something you didn’t do?”
“Well,” I say softly as I play with the strap of my bag. “You obviously have a lot going on in your head, and maybe you feel comfortable venting at me. Which, I mean, that’s fine, I really don’t mind. Everyone needs to let it out sometimes.” I smile at him and he looks at me like my head has started spinning and I am spitting up green vomit.
“Holy shit,” He whispers in astonishment. “Do you… Why are you always so fucking optimistic?”
I give him a shrug as I point to my cup. “I got fourteen dimes into the cup and didn’t drop one of them.” I smile. He looks like he wants to say something else, but shakes his head and storms out of the room.
“Have a good night.” I call as I dig in the bag once he’s gone. I pull out my crochet hook and watch my hands shake as I try to start my next row on Reegan’s hat.
Poor Reegan will never get her hat because of your shitty hands.
Shaking off the darkness as it whispers in my ear, I start humming to drown it out as I shake my hand and try again… and again… and again.
* * *
I smileat Atlas as he walks next to my wheelchair as I’m wheeled out of the hospital. I was discharged earlier, and when Atlas arrived, he explained that Janie and Fox both were sick, which is why Janie hadn’t been to see me but also scolded me for my lack of a cell phone.
“So, where am I going? I’m assuming I’m banned from Sky Point?” Atlas chuckles.
“Yeah, I guess I’m taking you to my place for right now until Ash and Sunday get home in two—what the fuck?” We watch as a Yukon whips in behind Atlas’ Tahoe, and Derek gets out of the driver’s side.
“Virginia? What the fuck are you doing here?” Atlas asks, and Derek points at him.
“You shut the fuck up. And you,” he grumbles as he looks at me, annoyance written all over his face.
“I’m taking you to my house, you can stay there. Atlas, shut the fuck up!” He growls, and I look over to see a massive grin forming on Atlas’ face.
“Oh,” I laugh nervously. “No, thank you, I’ll just stay with–”
“Wasn’t a request,” Derek states simply. “You are getting into my vehicle, where I will take you to my house. I have no steps, and the bathroom has a walk-in shower. No part of that house is used; you might as well–” He stops and stares at Atlas, who is still snickering. “Get. The. Fuck. Going.” Turning his attention back to me, Derek jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “Now, get your little ass in the vehicle.”
