Page 53 of Actions and Reactions
How have I even kept my job up to this point?
Because I wasn’t like this before.
Before Vinny and I patched things up and started hooking up.
That realization is even scarier.
I don’t want to give him up, ever, but what if I’ve already lost him?
Desperation finally breaks me and I check my messages. I still have a bunch of unread ones from Lottie and Vinny’s family, but I focus on Vinny’s picture only.
Vin:
I told Mom about the last few months last night. I asked her not to say anything to your parents, but I did want you to know I’d told her.
I hope that’s not a horrible thing for you, but I had to talk about it with someone.
Thank you for sending this. I don’t really know what any of it means, though, Si. Like I said, I need to figure things out too.
I forgive you.
But I can’t say anything about the future right now.
I hope this place where you’re going helps you.
I’ll text you again when I have something to say.
If your therapist or whatever thinks that’s a bad idea you just let me know when you can.
It feels like my lungs constrict or like my ribcage is shrinking. Every message makes it worse and worse.
I don’t care that he told his mom, of course I don’t. Aunt Lyla would never betray anyone’s confidence. But I knowwhyhe told her, why heneededto talk to someone.
I’m glad he has her, though. It lessens the pain in my chest.
The pain that’s all for Vinny.
For what I’ve done to him.
Again.
It feelslike it’s what Vinny was asking for in his texts, so I don’t write anything back and focus on getting the hell out of the hospital as soon as humanly possible.
Thanks to all the deities in the universe, I don’t present any complications after the surgery, and though my hand needs to be in a cast for three more weeks to make sure therepairs stick, I get to leave the hospital six days after Vinny brought me in.
I still haven’t been able to watch any of the pre-season games, though they’ve only played two more, against St. Louis and New York, and they won the first and the second ended in a shootout that New York won. Both goalies gave their best according to the stats I saw, and there was a picture in the highlights article of Bear and Matty embracing. Since it’s the pre-season, Bear wasn’t playing, so the suit vs. gear dichotomy in the picture is eye-catching, and even though I’m not working, I sent it over to Sandy, the only other person who the team has for PR, and told her it’d be a great idea to repost it to our socials.
Dad took my tablet away after that, which was for the best, I know. There are a lot more games I won’t be there for. I also have to remember that Sandy was doing my job—though she didn’t want it—before I got to the Pirates, and she’s more than capable of holding down the fort as long as shit doesn’t hit the fan like it did last season. Sandy’s great at the administrative side of PR, not so much the creative side, so we compliment each other perfectly.
I did add in the email that I was sorry to leave her in the lurch, but I didn’t have a chance to check if she answered before Dad took my tablet away. I hope she doesn’t hate me; that would make my return really awkward.
Aside from that, my time in the hospital is beyond dull.
I even give up on watching the tiny TV that’s mounted in the far corner of the room, not only because nothinggrabs my attention, but because the speakers are broken and the sound is really awful.
I spend my time rereading Vinny’s texts, wondering if I should tell my parents about our relationship and going over every word we’ve spoken to each other in the past two months. I even analyze the words from so long ago, when we both broke what everyone thought was unbreakable.
It’s painful, more than it was in the years we were apart, but I have to face the facts—we both fucked up in that hospital room seven years ago, but I was the one who was cruel back then, and cruel a week ago.
