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“Hmm,” Ana says while slowly nodding her head. She takes a sip of her own tea.
“Whatever your pequeña mente loca is thinking, I don’t want to hear it.”
She mumbles something in Spanish that is too quick for me to fully understand. But I pick up on words like, ‘denial’ and ‘crazy’.
I get off the couch before she can pull me into one of her ‘lectures’. Most of the time, I love those lectures because she gives the best advice. But my mind is too full right now to handle her words. Before getting in bed, I shower for way longer than I normally do. I try to be conscious of our monthly bills, but the hot water helps to center my erratic and confused thoughts.
Elliot Decker.
I’ve never been confused with my feelings towards him before. I never doubted what I felt for him and what he felt for me. Indifference. Dislike. I knew where we stood.
Now…I don’t know.
I don’t know why I’m questioning everything all of a sudden. Maybe it is because I can still see that soft and almost tender look in his eyes. I can still feel the warmth of his back as I fisted his sweatshirt in panic. I don’t know why in that moment with a gun in our face, all I could think of was being closer to him. I knew that if I could reach out to touch him, I would feel peace in that terrifying situation. I can still feel how it felt when he looked at me with that affection and concern. It settled my racing heart and seemed to fill and ease my tight and panicked chest. The cold that pricked at my skin was replaced with warmth. It felt right. It felt like something snapped into place.
As I stand pondering these erratic thoughts, I realize something else.
That fuzzy feeling I had in my stomach with Lucas…is gone. I didn’t even realize it was missing until he kissed me tonight. The kiss felt nice. But it lacked any ‘oomph’. His touch didn’t make my heart race. His voice didn’t fill me with excitement. Did I feel that ‘oomph’ when he kissed me before? I couldn’t remember. It’s only been a couple of weeks, and I did like him. But I feel like that’s not enough anymore. After feeling and experiencing that connection and intensity, however brief and fleeting, that I felt with Decker tonight, it seems silly that I ever had butterflies for Lucas at all.
But was that ridiculous? It had to be ridiculous. We shared an absolutely crazy and terrifying experience together, but was that all that it was? This was Elliot Decker, after all. The guy who made his feelings of disinterest towards me very clear from the moment we met.
This has to be my mind and heart's way of compartmentalizing and dealing with the traumatic event that just happened. I must still be in shock, unable to think rationally and reasonably. That is the only explanation why my feelings towards Decker are feeling unsure and confusing.
I turn off the shower, slowly put my pajamas on and climb into my bed. I can’t shake off or get rid of the feelings gnawing at me in my heart. For the first time ever, I go to sleep with so much eagerness to find Elliot Decker the next day.
TEN
ELLIOT, NOW
Two days have passed since she woke up for the first time and she has slept for ninety percent of that time. Any of the moments that she has been awake, she barely spoke to me and didn’t let me help her.
The first time she tried to get up to use the bathroom, I jumped up to help her. She shook me off and mumbled, “No, that’s weird.” I wanted to remind her that we’ve been intimate with each other for years now, but I know that’s absolutely not what she needs to hear right now. So, I let Ana help her when she’s here and the nurses help the rest of the time. I just sit in the corner like a creep who can’t stop looking at her.
I brought some of her favorite books for her, ones I know she can read a million times and never grow tired of them. They were stacked on the little table next to her bed. She thanked me quietly when I set them down but hasn’t picked one up yet. She seems content with watching TV or just sleeping, which makes me wonder if reading gives her a headache, and then I feel bad that I brought her her favorite books that she can’t even read right now. Idiot.
It is dinner time now, and she’s waiting for her food to arrive when she clears her throat a little and asks in a nervous voice, “Do you…have pictures of us together?”
My heart starts to race. Why didn’t I think of that? I’ve been too nervous to do something wrong and freak her out more, so I’ve just kept my distance. And my mouth shut.
“Yeah, yeah of course.” I jump up off the couch, pull my phone out of my pocket and walk over to her. Ana is working on her laptop on the couch, but she is discreetly watching our interaction with hope in her eyes.
“You were always taking pictures of each other,” Ana says to Mads. That was because of Mads. I never took pictures or even thought about taking pictures before her. I never had anything I wanted to remember. But I quickly realized all of the time I spent with her was time that I wanted to remember forever.
She doesn’t respond but she keeps her eyes on my phone as I open up my photos.
The first picture I show her is one from the day just before her accident. She took this picture. It shows me sitting on our couch looking at the camera smiling, holding her feet in my lap. She always asks me to rub her feet when we are watching TV together.
The second picture is a selfie we took of the two of us on a hike from a few weeks ago. I’m standing behind her with my arms wrapped around her and my head resting in the crook between her neck and shoulder, and her head is leaning against mine. We’re both smiling.
The next picture I find is from her birthday this past summer. Her parents, Ana, and Ana’s boyfriend came to our house, and we had a BBQ in the backyard. Ana’s boyfriend, David, took the picture. We were sitting at the table, Mads was on my lap with her arm around my neck and I had my arms around her waist, pulling her tightly to me. Her parents stood behind us smiling. Ana sat next to me but leaning forward on the table so she was in front of us. Mads was laughing at Ana, and I was laughing at Mads' laugh.
“I’ve never seen you smile before,” Mads says softly. She looks up at me and probably sees the sadness in my expression. “I mean, I don’t….I don’t remember.”
“No, it’s okay. I understand,” I respond quickly. She nods and looks back at my phone. I give it to her to hold so she can scroll through anything she wants. I sit in the chair next to her and watch as she looks through the pictures. Pictures of her, of us, of our adventures together. Lots of candid shots that I take when she’s not looking. She stops on a photo from a few months ago that I took. It was morning, and she was in bed on her stomach, her arms crossed above her on her pillow and her head on her arms. Her long blonde hair spilled over her shoulder and around her face. She looked at the camera with a sleepy smile. While you couldn’t see anything private, her whole back was showing and it was obvious that she wasn’t wearing anything. It is one of my favorite pictures of her.
I watch Mads nervously and see her cheeks get a little pink. She quickly swipes away from that picture. She keeps scrolling without saying a word. The more time that passes the more anxious I get. Is this helping? Or making it worse? I turn my head to look at Ana. Her eyes are wide with nerves but when she sees me looking at her she arranges her features in a non-convincing smile. I make a face that says, “what the hell do I do now?” And she motions for me to calm down. I don’t think I can calm down anymore. The more I try to calm down, the more I feel like I’m losing my damn mind.
She stops on another one of both of us that she took while we were in bed. While I know that we were both naked, the blanket covered us as I held her from behind. I’m kissing her cheek and she’s smiling with her eyes closed. She swipes to the next picture. And the next.
