Perfectly Adequate(70)
“That’s why you turned your back on me when I undressed to put on a gown after the coffee incident.”
“You didn’t need my help undressing, so it wasn’t helping, which meant I just would have been watching you undress. You know the difference.”
I have to pee. Badly …
“Just look away.” I pull down the front of my sweatpants while she helps me balance, turning her head in the opposite direction.
I grab her shoulders, feeling a bit fatigued just from the trip to the bathroom. A slight bit of nausea sweeps over me too, from the pressure on my surgical wounds.
I pee for what feels like ten minutes. “I’m not doing so well.”
“Oh!” She jerks my pants up.
Jesus … I didn’t ask her to do that. What was the point of looking away?
“Let’s get you back to the sofa. Can you make it? Do I need to help you ease to the floor?”
“Sofa. Go …” I tilt my chin up and focus on my breathing.
Julie grips my waist, and we let one crutch drop to the floor as she helps me hobble back to the sofa.
As soon as my butt connects with the cushion, I lean my head back, sweat beading along my brow.
“Good?”
I whisper a quick, “Yeah.”
She returns from the kitchen a few minutes later with a cold washcloth for my forehead and an electrolyte drink.
“The more I drink, the more I’ll have to pee.” I take a sip.
“I’m going to grab a catheter kit tomorrow. I think that will be easier.”
She’s joking … at least I think it’s a joke.
“So … I think you’re sleeping downstairs tonight.”
I grin on a tiny laugh. “Yeah, we’re not tackling the stairs quite yet.”
Julie sits on the opposite side of the sofa again. Our grins fade after a few seconds, leaving us with nothing to say in a silent room.
“I was scared, Eli.”
My gaze finds her. But she stares at her hands in her lap.
“I let you go, yet I was so damn scared of losing you when they took you into surgery. All of my reasons for leaving you felt ridiculous and petty. This boulder of regret landed on me, and I could barely breathe. I thought … this is it. This is God’s way of testing me. You know? Like really testing me to see if I truly believed I could live without you. If I really want to live without you.”
No. I can’t let her think like this. Nope. It’s too late to have these thoughts. So I smile on a sigh. “Well, good thing I’m okay. You worrying and overthinking things … thinking God was speaking to you … well, it wasn’t that at all. Just good old fear. A very normal reaction to traumatic situations.”
Julie glances up at me for a few seconds. I don’t want her looking at me like she’s still overthinking things.
“Can you get me my toothbrush and toothpaste? A bowl and some water? I think I’m done making trips to the bathroom until I absolutely have to pee.”
She takes a few more seconds before nodding. “Yes. I’ll get you fixed up.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Firsts
Dorothy
Eli messages me their orders. I pick up sandwiches and cookies from my favorite cafe and drive to Eli’s house.
“Dorfee! Roman hugs my legs as soon as Dr. Hathaway opens the door.
“Hey, little Romeo!”
“Careful, wild man. She has her hands full. Hi, Dorothy.” Dr. Hathaway smiles. A real one, I feel pretty sure of it. I’ve seen her smile in professional situations, her confidence shines. That’s the smile she gives me.
“Hi.”
“It’s very kind of you to bring all of us lunch. What do I owe you?”
I follow her inside, slipping off my tennis shoes. “Nothing. Really. It’s fine. I can afford it.”
She questions me with a look that I ignore as I set the sacks on the counter and slip off my jacket. “What can I get you to drink, Dorothy?”
“Water is great, thank you.”
She pulls all of the food out of the sacks and sets each wrapped sandwich on a plate. “Yours must be the egg salad.”
“Yes.”
“If you want to set the plates on the table, I’ll go help Eli get to his chair.”
“Oh … yeah. Or I can help him. I’m a lot stronger than I look,” I say.
“Just grab the plates.”
Okay then …
I move the plates to the table, where she has a bowl of cut up vegetables and a bowl of grapes. I consider my feelings about eating food prepared by Boss Bitch. Since I’m on the fence, I decide to stick to my sandwich and cookie.
“Hey …”
I turn toward Eli’s voice as Dr. Hathaway helps him to the kitchen table.
“Hey! How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Good.”
“Weak,” Dr. Hathaway corrects him with side-eye.
“Good and weak.” He eases onto the chair, and she props up his cast on a stool.
“You don’t have to eat at the table,” I say, taking a seat next to him.
“I do. Otherwise, Roman would think all meals for eternity can be eaten in the living room. Julie sneaked me breakfast on the sofa before Roman woke up.”