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“No, don’t worry about it. I’m fine now.”
“Okay, let me know if you change your mind. No sense feeling worse than you have to, right?” he asked conversationally. Since he was already halfway out the door, though, now with vomit cup in hand, I knew I was keeping him from other patients.
I gave him a quick wave, and he left, the door closing with a quiet swish. The vibration of an incoming call was the only sound in my room. I looked down to see Maye’s beautiful face on my screen.
I was too lonely and too weak to ignore another attempt. I swiped to answer the call and put the sound on speaker so I could lay more comfortably. Ha. That was an oxymoron on this institutional-grade mattress, but I had to keep reminding myself things could be worse.
“Hey there,” I said softly.
“Hi. Sorry I dropped the call. Damn canyon gets me every time,” she said with her husky laugh. “My God, I haven’t been this tired since studying for midterms. I’m going to collapse the moment I get in my room.”
“You shouldn’t drive when you’re that tired. You’re not as alert as you should be.”
“I’m sure you’re right, but everyone else is staying at my sister’s, and I have a big day tomorrow.”
“Oh? What do you have planned?”
There was an uncomfortable pause, and dread instantly percolated in my gut. If she planned on visiting me, I’d have to come up with a plausible reason why it wouldn’t work out. No way in hell did I want her to see me like this. I missed her so fucking bad and knew seeing her would lift my spirits, but at the same time, I planned to try to keep her away until I was further along in my recovery.
“Ummm,” she finally said, “I have an internship I committed to?” Her tone was partially teasing but also confused. When I didn’t respond, she asked, “I mean, would you mind if I worked in your office while you’re not there? I’m sure I could do research from home, but honestly, I get so distracted when I try to work in that house. It’s too hectic.”
“I haven’t personally talked to the dean about the accident yet,” I started to explain.
In her typical optimistic style, she cut me off and said, “I’m sure they’ll understand you’re going to need some time off. And they shouldn’t give you any guff about it either. I mean, the accident did happen on their property.”
“The detective working the case said the school has been very cooperative. They definitely don’t want it getting out in the media though.”
“Oohhkaaay. So what do you have to talk to Dean McCallister about? I don’t understand…”
There was no easy way to explain this to her. No matter how I worded it, it was going to be a disappointment. “Listen, Maye, about the internship,” I began and came up empty.
I didn’t want to admit our time together was over. The concern that everything between us would also end was very real. We barely had a chance to get to know each other. At the time, I didn’t stress about it because I figured we could take our time. Let things blossom over the rest of the summer.
“What about it?” she asked shakily. I could already hear the anxiety affecting her voice. The girl was intuitive, no doubt about it.
“Well, baby, I’m not sure how long they’re going to keep me here. Then, when I do go home, how long it’ll be before I’m in a position where I can go back to work. I’m afraid we’ll miss all the submission deadlines by that point. We’ve already lost another week between your arm and now…this.”
“Andrew?”
“Yes, beautiful?”
“I know this is based on my own insecurities, but I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.” Her confession stabbed me right in the heart. By the way it felt when I inhaled, the same dagger might have grazed a lung, too.
There was no point lying to her. I knew that. But I hadn’t come to grips with the truth myself. How could I expect her to take the news in stride?
The first attempt at a response choked me. I was going to lose the girl before I ever had the girl, and I hated it. Hated every damn thing about the situation we were in.
“Why would you feel that way? I’ve never lied to you about anything. I realize we don’t have many chapters in our book together, but you have to know I’m a man of integrity,” I said, trying to comfort her.
Silence filled the line for too long.
“I do. I know, I’m sorry. Like I said, it’s probably mostly my own insecurities. But something doesn’t feel right, and I can’t understand why you’d feel like you can’t be straight with me.”
“Please don’t put words in my mouth. Or feelings upon my chest,” I replied before thinking too much about it. I winced, though, when the words settled between us. The last thing I wanted was a fight. So I continued to explain, “It’s not fair to have to defend something I’m not even feeling or doing, you know?” I asked, trying to appeal to reason while keeping my tone in check.
“No,” she said mournfully. “No, it’s not fair at all, and I’m sorry. You don’t need all my silly manufactured drama while you’re trying to recover.” Again, the phone line was quiet for a moment. I was choosing the words of my response as carefully as possible when she admitted, “I really miss seeing you.”
“God, I miss seeing you too. Shit.” I chuckled. “I’d pay money to have you in my arms right now.”
