Page 121 of Falling Backwards
And I’ve decided not to let him leave right after seeing me into the apartment like usual.
I unlock the door, flip on the light, and hold my arm out in an,‘After you,’way.“Let me fix those scrapes real fast.”
He gives me a look like I’m worrying for nothing, but then his lips turn up in amusement.“I told you they’re okay.”
“I see a little blood on at least one hand, which means you have an open wound, which means—”
“Oh myGod,” he laughs out now, stepping through the doorway, cutting brightening eyes along me.“Fine, bossypants.But if you make them worse somehow….”
“No, you can trust me not to hurt you.”
I’m not sure if the vow crackles on the air for him to feel, too, or if it’s just for me—not sure if it’s abruptly loud only inmyhead because of how often I’ve been thinking of the time I did break his trust and hurt him.
And there was that time at work when he saidIcan trusthimand I bit back with doubt.
After I lock us into the apartment, I get brave enough to look at him.I find he’s studying his palms, expression unreadable all of a sudden.It’s not clearly calm and not clearly bitter.
For some reason, that worsens the crackle in my head, my chest.I open my mouth and start to say his name, not knowing what might follow but feeling sharply that something,anything, needs to be said about how bad I feel for when I….
But I notice there is a bit of tightness growing at the corners of his eyes.
I remember we aren’t supposed to talk about things that will lead to us getting into a fight, and that’s exactly what’ll happen if I bring up immature me telling all our classmates about sixteen-year-old Luke’s rawest pain.
Even if I do it so I can apologize, the topic is going to upset him.
It’s also going to remind me of why I did what I did, and thenI’llbe upset.
And the stability we’ve created will be ruined.
My lips press together without anything having passed them.I don’t want to fight with himorruin our stability.
“You gonna help with my scrapes?”he asks measuredly, still looking at his hands.“Or are you gonna keep staring at me?”
I inhale deeply, my brain now turning towards worry that he has become aggravated with me and wants to leave after all.
However, I believe if that were the case, he’d be on his way out the door.
“Yes, I’m gonna help.”I finally take off my wet coat and shoes.As I hang the coat on the wall hook, I add, “Sorry.”
He seems to have more words on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t let them out.He just shifts his gaze across the floor to my legs, seemingly, then down to my feet.He takes his shoes off, too, and follows me when I head for the kitchen.
Focusing on finding Neosporin and Band-Aids doesn’t quite take my mind off how awkward things have begun to feel, but it does help.Guiding him through gently washing his hands is better.He likes the warm water on the parts that are cold from being outside, but his injuries don’t appreciate being agitated, and the joke I spontaneously make about suing the property owners gets a smile out of him.
He says, “Nevermind that I was the one running on a wet surface, though, right?”
“Well, obviously, if they had some of those yellow warning signs set up, then you would’ve known it was dangerous to run out there.I think this is all their fault.”
It’s so stupid, my attempt at humor, but it has chuckles bubbling up out of him.
Does he really think I’m funny or is he distracting himself from the sting of his hands…and the sting of other things?
Either way, his amusement settles the bit of tension that was here before.
After he has carefully dried his hands with a paper towel, I set to work at applying the Neosporin on the worst areas.
“I can’t really bandage all these spots,” I tell him, “but at least the most uncomfortable ones will get covered up.”
“That’s fine.The smaller places will feel better all by themselves in no time.”
