Perfectly Adequate(75)

I feel like she’s running from me, and I can’t chase her. My injuries prevent me from physically going to her. And I fucking hate it. She won’t talk, won’t come see me, won’t offer any reassurance that we’re okay.

How ignorant of me to think we’re okay. We’re not okay. I grilled her about a stupid imaginary London getaway, and then I pressured her to tell me her plans thirty years into the future. Of course she ran. Any person in their right mind would run and never look back.

“If you don’t stop frowning, that line on your forehead will only get deeper.” Mom winks, glancing up from her knitting. She’s keeping an eye on me while Julie and my dad take Roman to the park.

“My fall didn’t take my life, but it feels like it ruined it. I can’t work. I can’t navigate. I can’t bathe on my own. I can’t …” I shake my head. Depression works its way into the fourth week of my healing process.

“Yesterday, since you haven’t been bringing me Friday lunch,” she smirks, “I walked over to the hospital and left a message for Dorothy. She messaged me back and agreed to have a cup of coffee with me on her break.”

I’m shocked. And a little pissed off that she waited a full day to tell me this. But mostly I’m painfully envious that she saw Dorothy.

“How is she?”

“Better than you.” Mom chuckles. “She’s Dorothy. Focused on school and work. I think that’s a good focus for her right now. Those are things she can control.”

“What is that supposed to mean? She could come see me. God knows I’ve been trying to get her to commit to even a quick phone conversation.”

“Maybe now is not the best time to talk with her.”

“Whose side are you on?” My insides tighten, pulling at healing wounds, making new emotional cuts in my heart. I’m ready to crawl out of my skin. I need out of this cast, out of the house … I need out of my mind.

“Yours, dear. Always yours. Whose side are you on is the only question that matters.”

“Side? How do you figure that I have a side to choose?”

“Because Julie talked with me.”

Silence steps into the room, surrendering only to the hum of the furnace kicking on. Julie told my mom. Why did she do that when I gave her absolutely no response to her confession? Not a single word.

“You’ve wanted this since the day she left you. You’ve wanted her back.”

“Ye—ah … I sure have. Even when I’ve hated her, I’ve still loved her.”

“That speaks volumes.” She sets her knitting to the side.

I fiddle with the drawstrings to my gray hoodie. “It really does. It proves that I’m an expert doormat. A crippled, lovesick man who refused to accept reality and move on.”

“Well, yes, those would be your sisters’ words. They’d try to disown you if you took Julie back.”

I nod.

“I’ve hated the pain you’ve held on to by trying to hold on to her, but it’s one of the most incredible qualities about you. Your love is so unconditional. Your wedding vows meant something to you. And the way you fought for your family broke my heart, but it also gave me unfathomable pride. It’s easy to love someone when they love you back, when they want you, when they need you. It’s not near as easy to have that same deep love when they seem to despise you or when they kick you out of their life.”

“Do you think it’s Dorothy? Is this jealousy Julie’s feeling?”

“I don’t think so. I think this was going to happen with or without Dorothy. I’m sure seeing you with Dorothy makes Julie feel anxious, like she needs to do something quickly before she loses you for good.”

I lean my head back, rubbing my hand down my face on a grumble. “Oh man … fuck my life.”

“What can I do? What do you need from me? Your mom.”

“I need to get out of here.”

“Where do you want to go?”

*

“You’re nervous.” Mom shuts off the car.

I stare at the front door to Dorothy’s house. “No. Maybe. Well, it’s because she lives with her parents. If they’re here, they’ll answer the door. Then I have to explain myself to them. That part makes me a little nervous.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m out of my comfort zone here as well since I’m the mother dropping off her injured thirty-eight-year-old son with an overnight bag. Hi, could you look after my boy? He needs help getting around, going to the bathroom, and cooking food. Here’s my number. Call me if he’s a burden.”

I laugh. “Yes. This is crazy. Hopefully my patient transporter, EMT, nursing student girlfriend will show up and demonstrate her caregiving skills.”

“Maybe I should stick around.”

“That would be safe. But I don’t want to be safe. I don’t want her to feel like she has an easy out.”

“Eli, you need to let her go or seriously hold on to her, but don’t string her along.” She rests her hand on mine.

“I know.”

She helps me out of the car as best that she can and situates my crutches under my arms. Yes, I’m stubbornly using both crutches even with my ribs protesting. Physical therapy has helped.

It takes us forever to get to the door, three knocks before Kellie answers the door, and one huge breath of courage to deliver my speech.