Page 76 of Wild for You
“This weekend? As in tomorrow night?” I swallow the pickle lodged in my throat, washing it down with the sweet frozen drink.
“Yeah, is that okay for you?”
“Of course. It just snuck up on me, that’s all. The time really has flown by. I feel like I’ve missed so much of the wedding planning process.”
“It’s not your fault you were stranded on a deserted island, Gwenny. I’m just glad you’re home safe.”
“Me, too,” I say the words I know I’m supposed to say, but deep down, I feel this island-shaped hole in my heart, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to fill it back up. I’ve just got to move forward and take one day at a time, and hopefully, one day, the scar will fade, and I’ll feel like myself again. I just don’t know who that person is anymore.
My eyes burn as I hold back the tears threatening to fall when I think of how lonely I am without Jack. Though I’m in a booming city, and everywhere I go, I’m surrounded by crowds of people, I feel like the loneliest person in the world.
I stare down at the phone in my hands, wishing he’d write back, wishing he’d take back the last message he sent me, wishing he would say anything to make my aching heart feel better or at least finish the job. I feel so angry, but deep down, I know it’s not true anger, it’s heartbreak, and I don’t know how I’ll ever recover from it.
I drain the rest of my fake Pina Colada and play back the memories over and over again. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but the memories are all I have now, so I let myself dream of how good things were and what might have been in another life.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
Jack
I throw backtwo Tylenol and guzzle half a bottle of water as my pounding head throbs from last night’s bender. Sam’s been a good sport keeping me preoccupied in the evenings with soccer games and booze as I finish this last week of antibiotics.
“Oh, Jack, someone’s here to see you!” Sam singsongs behind the door, and I let my head fall back, smacking the headboard. I know the exact visitor he’s referencing, and I’m in no mood for her insults or abuse.
“Yes, Jack. Come out here, and let me remove your pic line … Unless you want me to come in your bedroom and take it out?” Tatiana taunts from behind the door.
Of all the nurses in the godforsaken city, Sam had to arrange for Tatiana the she-devil to be my home health nurse. The woman gets off on my pain, and after that catheter removal, I’m actually shaking, thinking of her removing a pic line from my artery.
I shiver and contemplate crawling under the bed and hiding, but it’s no use … She’s too strong. She’d probably just lift the bed with one arm while she pulled me out—kicking and screaming—with the other. Hell, she’d probably enjoy that even more.
I close my eyes, count to three, and muster up the courage before I open the door. I see her face a mere inches away when I crack the door ever so slowly. Her mustache and curly eyebrows glisten with sweat in this sweltering heat, and it takes everything I have not to piss myself from fear.
“Let me just grab some pants, and I’ll meet you in the living room,” I say through the crack.
“There is no part of your body I have not seen, but do what you wish. I will wait.”
I find my backpack in the corner of the room and remove all my equipment. It’s the first time I’ve held my camera since my accident, and it feels strange in my hand. I don’t know if I want to throw it across the room for leading me into such a dangerous passion or cling to it as a lifeline. This camera has led me to places I never expected to see, and somehow, it feels like an awkward extension of my body. Maybe I am more like Captain Hook than I realized, only instead of a hook, I have a camera.
As I chuckle at the memory of Sam and I wasted on the couch, planning my new forever-future Halloween costume, something tickles my memory. He said something weird that night that caught me off guard, but I can’t quite put my finger on it …
“Jack! I’m waiting!” Tatiana’s muffled voice calls from the living room, and I flinch before carefully placing the camera back in my backpack.
I find a pile of clean clothes in the nearby dresser and grab a pair of shorts tucked away at the bottom. The last thing I want is for Tatiana to be upset with me for stalling … whether or not it’s true.
I carefully slide on the shorts. I’m getting better at balancing without the crutches as my leg gets stronger and stronger every day. Sam and I have been playing this new game where he sits on the couch in the evenings and I have to refill our drinks … without the help of my crutches. Let’s just say things get a little more interesting as the night goes on. I’ve got so many new bumps and bruises from busting my ass on this tile floor, but to his credit, I am getting stronger.
I make my way to the living room, where Tatiana has all her nursing shit splayed out on the coffee table, and I suck in a breath.
This is the last thing keeping you stuck here. So buck up and let her do her thing, and you can move on from this whole experience and lick your wounds in peace.
“Come and have a seat, Jack. You’ve kept me waiting long enough. I have a hot date to get to after this, so be still. I’d rather not have your blood on me at dinner.” She cracks her knuckles, and I swallow my cry for help.
Somehow, I feel like I should warn the poor soul who’s agreed to date this devil of a woman, maybe use my blood to write a warning message or something?
The cool sensation of alcohol interrupts my thoughts and is quickly followed by the all too familiar ripping of hair.
As to be expected, Tatiana holds nothing back.
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