Page 90 of Taking Care of You
I can’t say I feel sorry for her. She had more than enough time to get over the breakup, but she chose to run Ethan down instead. I really hope she gets the help she needs but also pays for what she did.
True to his word, my father is there every day, staying until visiting hours are over. We don’t talk as much as we did the first few days, but there’s an ease between us now and the silencesaren’t uncomfortable. We even caught wrestling a few times. While it wasn’t Monday Night Raw, we both still enjoyed it.
One night, he drops a bomb on me, one that I saw coming but makes me sad all the same. “I left your mother. For good.” He looks at me, still with that air of sadness around him that he can’t seem to shake. “I came home and found her passed out in the middle of the floor. She told me she was going to get help so she could work on a relationship with you, but she doesn’t mean it. And I can’t be around for that. So, yeah, if you want to come visit your old man, I just signed a lease for a small one-bedroom apartment downtown. It’s not much, but you’re welcome. Anytime.” I nod, holding back tears.
I'd hoped that my being injured would've been an incentive for my mother to get some help, but she’s too far gone. I’m not going to beg her to be in my life and, apparently, my dad isn’t either. I briefly wonder how she’ll pay her bills, but that’s not my problem. She’s an adult, she’ll figure it out.
My ribs are feeling better and my head doesn’t feel like there’s a bowling ball sitting on my shoulders anymore. Soon, I’ll be able to go home, at least until the next surgery in a month. The ex-fix was taken off, so my leg isn’t jacked in the air and I can move around a lot better.
When my friends come, the nurses look the other way and allow all five of them to sit around my bed to shoot the shit with me. Crystal, even though she told me to chill and recover, always brings my homework and helps explain anything I have questions about.
Ryder likes to regale me with play-by-plays of different things happening at school, shit that I really don’t care about but he thinks is extremely funny, so I indulge him.
Elle likes to talk about Elle things, going a mile a minute, not letting me get a word in, but I don’t mind. I can see the strain around her eyes, so I know she’s trying to be respectful of measking them not to cry. After the incident with my father, I don’t think I can handle it.
Mitch is still broody, but he tries to joke when it gets too somber. Which is funny because he’s terrible at it, which makes us all laugh. It effectively lightens the mood, so maybe he’s onto something.
After I’ve been at the hospital for exactly a month, Dr. Reynolds tells me I can go home. Since Grace is a doctor, he trusts that I’ll be taken care of and to just come back in four weeks for my third and final surgery. Thank God. I’m really sick of seeing these four walls, and the food fucking sucks.
My dad volunteers to drive me to their house, and Ethan takes the things everyone brought to the hospital for me.
I have to get a ride down in a wheelchair, which I grumble about, but I’m secretly thankful for. I’ve been doing some walking, with the doc trying to get me to work on my mobility, but that shit fucking hurts. I know I’ll have to walk when I get home, but right now, I don’t think I can. Maybe after the last surgery.
Ethan and my dad help me into the back of the car, and I stretch my leg across the seat, careful not to bump it on anything.
On the way to Ethan’s, my dad asks me, “You think you need to go to therapy? For the accident and…living at home?”
Honestly, I think I do. For both. They both weigh heavily on me. I suppressed a lot of my emotions and how I felt about my mother, and I’ve been having nightmares about the accident. I need to see someone to get my head together.
“Yes.”
He’s quiet for a few beats, then in a small voice, asks, “Can I come with you? I don’t have to be in the room, of course.” He glances at me in the rearview mirror. “I can take you and waituntil you’re done. Then we can go get something to eat or watch a movie after?”
He’s so hopeful and scared at the same time. He shouldn’t worry. I know he’s trying to do better and he’s been keeping his word. He stays with me every day and I never failed to wake up without him already in the room. Most of the time, he was asleep and his snoring woke me, but he kept his word. He’s trying.
“Of course, Dad. Maybe we can do family therapy?”
He looks up sharply, a smile on his face. “Yeah? You’d want to? If you need me there to work some things out, I will.”
“That would be nice.” We’re quiet for the rest of the ride, but he keeps looking at me in the mirror, a really happy expression playing across his face. I’m really glad we can work on our relationship. I’ve missed him.
The journey to Ethan’s room is an experience. While Ethan and my dad didn’t want to baby me, they didn’t want to give me space either. It took me bumping my leg into the wall, and crying out in pain and frustration, for them to back off and work together. Kinda wish I had that wheelchair now, with the way these two are acting.
My dad sat in Ethan’s armchair for a few hours while I lounged in his bed, and Ethan left to go back to track practice and run some errands after. Again, we don’t say much; just sit and watch TV and enjoy the company.
When it became apparent that I couldn’t keep my eyes open, Dad kissed my forehead and whispered, “Love you, kid” and promised to be back tomorrow.
Before he left, he gave me some pain meds because my leg was throbbing and I knew I wouldn’t be able to scooch over to grab them. They kicked in pretty quickly. I tried to stay awake until Ethan came home, but it was impossible. Shortly after my father left, I was sucked down into a deep sleep.
It wasn’t dreamless though. I’m still having nightmares, with most of them focused on parts of the accident I couldn’t remember. This one was worse. I had a dream that no matter how fast I ran, I couldn’t get to Ethan in time. And since my brain is an asshole and refuses to give me a break, I had to watch, over and over again, how he was struck by Dawn’s car, body flying in the air, landing in a contorted mess. Then I could hear Dawn’s manic laughter, even though my hands were covering my ears.
Waking up with a start, I look around frantically, trying to get my bearings. I feel the mattress under me, not hard pavement, so I know I’m safe. It’s dark outside, no lights on in the room. I click on the bedside lamp to see Ethan on a raised air mattress, his head on the bed, arm stretched in my direction. My heart stutters, not liking how uncomfortable he must be, but loving that he’s so close.
I reach out for his hand and tap him to wake him up. It’s selfish, but that nightmare has me frightened and I really want his arms around me. “Hey. Wake up, babe.”
He surfaces gradually, eyes blinking slowly, and he looks up at me.
Smiling, he grabs my hand and says, “Hey, creep. Sleep well?”
