Page 7 of Healing You
“Maybe. Anyway, I was picking Maddie up from Girl Scouts and I needed to swing by—”
“To bring me bananas, apparently?”
“Steven David Tripp, have you seen your fridge?” She yanked open the stainless steel door, shaking her head. “Condiments, beer, protein powder, and yogurt. You need more sustenance than this.”
“You're right.” He tossed a wink to Maddie. “Like cookies.”
Kid-like giggles pealed through his house as his ma let loose with an exasperated sigh. “Cam said you had some flea and tick medication for Nibbler?”
Steve snapped his fingers and moved into his home office, where he kept samples and medicine. “That's right. I knew there was something he needed.” He grabbed a few months’ worth of supply, along with a heart worm preventative. “Make sure he knows that he can only give Nibbler the heart worm medicine if he's been keeping up with the previous months. Otherwise, it could be... trouble,” he said.
“Thank you, sweetie.”
He hesitated a moment, eying Maddie playing with the dogs. “Ma, did you hear anything recently about Yvonne's engagement?” He knew the mere question would catapult his mother into wild ideas of him still having feelings for his ex, but he had to know one way or another.
“There was a rumor that she was supposed to be moving to Laconia to be with him, but it never happened.”
“But nothing about the wedding?”
His mom narrowed her eyes at him. “Yvonne and I are friendly, even after the accident, you know that. But we're not friends, hon. She doesn't confide in me.”
“But you would have heard if she—”
“My girlfriends love their gossip, but they know there are certain topics that are off the table to discuss with me. Yvonne being one of them.” She paused. “But I'm sure I could find out if you wanted me to.”
He considered that for a moment, but thought better of it. The fact that the town wasn't gossiping about Yvonne was a good thing. He didn't want to give them any reasons to. “No, no, it's fine. I was just curious.”
Marty nodded, tucking her blond, chin-length hair behind her ear. Then, looking at his running outfit, a moment of concern flashed over her features. She knew as well as he did why he ran. How it was his coping method from the accident. “Come on, Maddie. Let's let Uncle Steve go for his run.”
“Thanks, Ma. I'll walk you out.” He leaned in for another hug and kiss from each of them and grabbed his keys. He whistled for Molly, who came trotting happily toward the front door with Nibbler barreling after her. Molly's tail swished against his dark hardwood floors, and Steve found himself smiling, already feeling calmer. He clipped each of the dog's leashes, handing Nibbler's to Maddie.
“Not sure how long of a run you're going for,” Ma said, “but Frank got a new boat. She's a beauty... down by the dock. You should check it out.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He locked his door behind him, clipping Molly's leash to his running belt. He didn't usually run in that direction, but a post-run swim sounded amazing. He gave his mother and niece a final wave goodbye as they pulled out of his driveway.
Molly sat at his side, waiting patiently for their run to start. “Come on, sweet girl. Keep me on track.” Almost sensing the takeoff before his feet moved, she launched into motion, running beside him down the driveway and into the road.
Twenty-five minutes and three miles later, Steve rounded the final curve toward the dock his ma had mentioned, not far from his home. His quads ached as his feet pounded against the dirt beneath him and he pushed himself harder up that final hill. Sweat dripped down his face and neck, washing away the debilitating feelings he had earlier, and he grunted as he neared the top of the hill. Once he got there, it was literally all downhill. And he'd be able to jump into the refreshing lake below. Molly lobbed beside him, her tongue rolled out to the side of her mouth, panting. She bounded along, looking into his eyes, and he could have sworn she smiled up at him.
His mind wandered to Yvonne first and then Gatsby, and he wondered if Gatsby's protein treatment was helping him feel better yet. She'd made Gatsby's chemo appointment before she left that morning, but in Steve's experience, that didn't always mean the client would show up. He thought of the way her eyes widened when Sophy entered. How she stiffened, face tight. Yvonne was never the jealous type, but something between them shifted after Sophy's visit. He wasn't exactly sure why it mattered one way or another—Yvonne hadn't been in his life for years. And she was maybe even engaged, though to be honest, his gut instinct was telling him otherwise. Even if Sophy was his girlfriend, what did she care?
Still, he didn't like it one bit. He didn't like Yvonne not knowing the truth. The fact that he hadn't had a lover in months or a girlfriend in years shouldn't be important, but somehow it was. Grasping Molly's leash a little tighter, Steve picked up his pace down the hill.
Orange streaked across the azure sky, morphing it into swirls of pink and red. As he finished his third mile, he slowed to a stop at the edge of the lake, looking for the new boat, but not seeing it. Hmm. Maybe Frank had taken it out for the evening.
Sweat covered his torso, shoulders, neck and back. Steve ran a hand through his hair, shaking the moisture away. The setting sun glittering across the lake beckoned him for a quick dip, quirking its proverbial finger. Sighing, he looked down at his own squiggled reflection. With the lake's rippled current, his scar was almost invisible. He squinted, imagining what he would look if he had never had the accident—it had been so long since he'd seen his face fresh from any scar, he almost didn't remember what he looked like without it.
Living with such a visible reminder of his life's biggest mistake wasn't easy... especially in college. Back then the scar was more fresh—red and blistered. People stared. Kids cringed. Girls avoided him. He coped with that by becoming UNH's biggest social butterfly; compensating for what he lacked in looks with charm and charisma. He partied nearly every night of his first semester freshman year and blew off classes every day. The partying scored him a lot of weed, but not a lot of dates. By the second semester, it didn't matter that he'd won over all those friends. He'd been issued warnings that if he didn't bring his grades back up, he'd be kicked out of school. So, he launched from late night parties to late night cram sessions, eventually realizing that he liked learning a whole lot more than he liked parties. He sped through undergrad and veterinary school, finishing summa cum laude two semesters early. Heat flashed across his cheeks with the memory. Still, he would have happily settled for magna cum laude in exchange for a few dates. It wasn't until late in veterinary school that he learned his scar didn't make him hideous. As he got older, he realized that some girls even dug the scar.
Molly raised a tentative gaze to Steve, and he chuckled, jerking his head toward the water. “Aw, go ahead.” After she leapt in belly first with a splash, he pulled a tennis ball from his pocket, hurling it into the lake. She swam the whole way out to the bobbing ball, grasped it in her jaw, and turned, swimming back to him. “Good girl.” He scratched her wet head, took the ball and threw it again, this time even further. Tugging his shirt off and tossing his phone and keys on top, he too dove in.
With each lap around the lake, his mind wandered more and more to Yvonne. She hated him. She'd made that really clear in the hospital. He'd kind of hated himself, too. Deep down, there was an anger there... at her... and a sadness that he had never had the chance to explain himself. Defend those things she had said in her letter. And as the years passed, it mattered less and less. That anger had been there for years, probably ever since the accident, but just like with any wound, it had developed scar tissue; morphing the flesh, changing the wound until years later, he could barely remember what the source of it initially looked like.
Steve swam hard, feeling the water push against his muscles, the lake cool and lapping against his heated flesh. With each stroke that cut through the water, he pushed the thoughts of her away, deeper, until they were at the bottom of the lake. As he came up for air, he grasped onto the wood dock, the planks grainy beneath his fingers and pulled his body out of the water.
“Oh!”
Steve spun to find Yvonne staring at him from the dock, mouth gaping open. She flushed as Steve grabbed his T-shirt and wiped the droplets of water from his face, intentionally not hiding or covering his scar. He was well beyond the insecure college freshman who had to party to cover who he really was. And he certainly wasn't going to do that for the woman who'd been by his side when the scar had been created. Except he knew better than that. She'd never responded well to his scar. Not when he came back from school and finally agreed to have coffee with her, and not even today in the veterinary clinic when she gave him that pitied stare.
