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“This is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had.”
“It only gets weirder from here, baby,” he chirps, pulling out a jug of orange juice. He shakes it at me. “Want some?”
“Uhm. Sure?”
I haven’t recovered yet. From anything he just said. Including that damn endearment. I’m a little too high to correct it. Maybe
later.
THIS BED IS REALLY comfortable. The only thing it’s missing is Bilby curled up by my feet. I miss that little dude, he always knew when I was down and would curl his soft little body into mine.
My hands slide across the warm grey duvet. It’s Mako’s bed, considering his spare bedroom doesn’t have a bed yet. Apparently, he doesn’t have guests very often and it wasn’t a priority. I wonder if that’s because all his ‘guests’ sleep in his bed with him. The thought causes my heart to sink. When I realize that, I reach down inside myself, yank that pesky muscle up and slam it back in its place where it belongs.
Mako’s room is bare of any personal photos except one on his nightstand. A picture of a man that looks identical to him, but older and weathered. He’s smirking at the camera, the same smug smirk on Mako’s face that I’ve wanted to both slap and kiss off his face.
Must be an uncle. I think I remember Ryan saying Matt had a couple brothers. Mako doesn’t look much like Julie or Matt, so he must’ve gotten his genes from one of Matt’s brothers.
Resisting the urge to grab the frame and look closer, I turn my eyes away.
The walls are a light gray except for the rough gray stone wall his bed is pushed up against. The black hardwood flooring contracts nicely with the walls, giving the same aura to his room the rest of the house holds. Comfortable. Safe.
A stark contrast to Ryan’s house, who built it to look modern and sterile. White everywhere save for some of the furniture and the colorful pictures hanging on the walls. Cold and sterile, just like its owner.
Mako sits places a bottle of water and my pills on the end table.
“Is there anything I can get you?” he asks softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. The soft mattress compresses deeply around his weight.
“Maybe…” I lick my lips, not sure what I’m even asking. “Maybe just talk to me?” I cringe the moment the words leave my mouth. Desperately, I want to snatch them out of the air before they reach his ears, but it’s too late. He’s already turning his head towards me, his face softened and kind. He actually looks his age when he looks at me this way. Any other time, the stress from his job ages him.
When has he ever gotten the chance to feel young? To be young?
“Tell me about yourself, Mako,” I say. “Tell me something meaningful.”
And just like Jesus shining a light down on my biggest desires, he turns his tattooed arm towards me, showcasing the beautiful design of the blooming red rose in a bed of dead roses.
“I got this when I turned eighteen. It symbolizes my life, and how I see myself. I doubt Ryan told you this, but Julie and Matt adopted me when I was thirteen.”
My mouth parts. All the strange comments Ryan would make about Mako not belonging, or him not being his real brother make perfect sense now. The picture frame on Mako’s bedside table, of him and an older replica of him. That was his father. His real father.
“Before that, I grew up in a shitty neighborhood with pretty shitty parents. My mother sold herself for money and my father was a drug runner.” My lip trembles, completely blown away by how similar Mako’s childhood was to mine. Back at the library, when I spilled my life story to Mako, he never said a thing.
“This tattoo is a reminder that despite my ugly surroundings, I was still worth something. That where I came from doesn’t taint who I am in any way.” He lifts his eyes to me, staring at me pointedly.
The weight of his words is too much. My eyes drop back down to the tattoo.
“It’s… beautiful,” I whisper. That word. I hate it. But it’s the only word that does his story justice.
“I understand you more than you think I do, River,” he says softly, his eyes still waiting for mine to join them once again. I gather my strength and answer his silent demand. His glittering emerald eyes are enrapturing, so much that my breath dissipates. “I know what it’s like to not be your parent’s first choice. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be your own first choice. Choose yourself, River. Put yourself first.”
My lip trembles. A tear sneaks past my barriers and trails down my cheek. He doesn’t shy away from the emotion, instead, lifting his hand and wiping away the drop with his thumb. His skin sliding against mine so delicately leaves a trail of fire in its wake. My breath shudders out of me, completely at a loss of what to say.
He stands and looks back at me once more. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
Right before he walks out the door, I find my voice, albeit being thin and hoarse. “Are you sure I can’t just take the couch? I don’t want to be a hindrance. You’ve helped more than enough.”
And I mean, way more than enough. He’s helped me to the restroom, and even off the toilet at one point. He’s kept me comfortable, hydrated, and fed me healthy food. The nurse said a good diet helps heal bodies. I didn’t even know Mako was paying that close attention. He kept me entertained with his weird fetish talk—which I still one hundred percent believe he’s fibbing about—and movies. He gave me safety and comfort, and a piece of him that I’ll treasure forever. And now he’s giving me his bed.
I’ve never been taken care of like this and I don’t know how to feel about it. Mako shouldn’t be the one doing this for me, it should be Ryan—who hasn’t even called or texted. Either he hasn’t gone home yet, or he doesn’t give a shit.
