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Still. He doesn’t make it any less weird when he casually tells me some men in black might pop by the hospital to seize all my x-rays and take the doctors aside for a little ‘re-education’.
I’d normally be worried, freaking out is closer to the truth, but there’s another part of me that’s really not surprised at all.
On the one hand, Xander is such an amazing guy. A stunningly handsome and intelligent professor, superhuman compared to any guy.
On the other hand? He could very well have just stepped out of some inter-dimensional portal holding the keys to the secrets of the universe, and a cup of coffee.
He fits either one, depending on the day and what’s happening around him I guess.
No wonder there are some rumors floating about. Doesn’t help that he’s openly into astrophysics and known to work with certain government agencies.
I think of my dad too though, there’s a ton of stuff he does with his work and he’s either not allowed to talk to me about it or simply chooses not to burden me with it.
I get a little whiny when Xander suggests we actually do something about the Patterson place before they get back tomorrow, promising me lunch first though which makes it all better.
But everything takes a hard left when he ends the call, letting me know he’ll be here soon.
Promising he will.
He tells me he loves me and hangs up.
I sit in the wheelchair with my leg out in front of me, stunned.
I’ve had my dad tell me he loves me. Maybe a teacher saying they loved my work.
But nobody’s ever said it like Xander. And Xander isn’t just anybody.
More than that, more than the best feeling in the whole world, and my heart feels like it will burst.
I really do feel like he’s said it before. Like some kind of déjà vu. Him saying those three little words feels like it’s unlocked some kind of weird memory that silently answers all my questions about him, but doesn’t leave me with anything tangible still to go on.
It’s that feeling all over again, like the first night we met.
Whenever I feel it or I’m near him physically, nothing else matters. I don’t have any questions because there’s nothing to question.
I sigh happily, but wearily. Accepting my fate as it is right now, trusting that things will get clearer as time goes by.
But that man though. Calling me to make sure I’m okay, telling me he loves me.
It’s something else I hope I’ll never get used to, never take for granted I mean.
Xander did say that I’ll know when I’m ready for us to take things to the next level.
Well, if my bum ankle here can keep up, I think tonight’s the night.
I know tonight’s the night. I can feel it in my bones as well as a few other places.
I’m jolted back to reality when my chair is suddenly pulled back by an orderly, making way for the parade of medics still working on Mr. Swanson.
The original nurse in pink I was speaking with about Xander is with them, but she only shrugs as they all wheel him past, way too busy now to finish her story.
But at least it looks as though Mr. Swanson still has a chance.
True to Xander’s prediction, the elevator chimes, and a trio of men in dark suits and blacked-out aviators with earpieces move out into the area in some formidable style of formation as they briefly scan the area.
A less intimidating set of men and women approach the nurse’s station, producing badges and paperwork.
In minutes every doctor who examined me, along with what looks like my medical files and scans are taken into the elevator.
The whole thing is over in minutes as if they were never there.
I wonder how I’d react if Xander hadn’t given me a heads up?
Strangely, I’m certain if I didn’t know what to look for it probably wouldn’t have seemed so out of place.
Any hospital is full of all sorts of goings-on, and those guys really were like walking ghosts. They were definitely there but they kinda weren’t at the same time.
They looked so out of place they could blend in anywhere.
Weird.
A different nurse comes out from behind the nurse’s station, letting me know she’s taking me down to the entrance.
“Someone’s on their way to collect you,” she smiles.
“What was all that about?” I ask, referring to the men in black and hoping she might have the same gossipy streak as the other nurse.
She pretends not to hear me, only commenting on the weather and telling me how glad I must be to finally be going home.
“Strange how my ankle seemed to have healed so quickly. And then all those official types wanting to take the files and the doctors,” I add. But she’s silent.
“Here we are,” she announces cheerfully, wheeling me up to a waiting area by the main entrance, setting the brakes on my chair, and reminding me to take it easy with the ankle.
