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“Open wide, mister,” Bo teased. “You’re not done yet.”
“Yes, I am,” I complained. “I’m full.”
“You’re not full until I say you’re full,” he stated. “You hear me, Mr. Whiney Pants?”
“God! You’re worse than a prison warden.”
“True, but if you listen to my advice and do as I say, you’ll get out of this prison. How about that?”
I’d been awake for a week. According to the doctors, I’d been placed in a medically induced coma for ten days because of my blood pressure, severe malnutrition, and dehydration. Even though I was in a catatonic state of being, my heart rate was dangerously elevated and they were concerned. I wasn’t exactly sure how long I’d been in the hospital or how long Bo had been by my side, but his face was the first I saw when I finally opened my eyes. Actually he was the only person I’d seen that wasn’t attached to medical personnel.
Apparently Bo had been by my side the entire time. When I regained consciousness his presence was the comfort I needed to feel safe and secure. Bo possessed a calming presence and a steely reserve that supported my recovery. Knowing he had come back to Charleston to be by my side spoke volumes to how much he cared for me. Despite me abandoning him when he needed my love and guidance, he stepped up like always. I didn’t deserve him but I wanted to earn his trust again, and then build from that. I was determined to do my best and show Bo I was worth loving.
“I want to go outside for a walk again,” I said.
He forced another bite of cooked carrots into my mouth.
After chewing and choking them down, I pushed the fork away. “Enough of that shit,” I protested. I held my hands out for him to assist me from the bed.
“You wanna play Rummy today?” he asked. The goal for the week was for me to eat real food, get out of bed and walk as far as I could each day. The two of us played cards to help pass the time. “You owe me more than three-hundred-thousand dollars according to yesterday’s total,” he reminded me. “And don’t give me shit about collecting either. I know what you’re worth, pretty boy.”
He had me sit on the edge of the bed while I held his hands and steadied myself. “I’m probably not very pretty right now,” I whispered, noticing how thin my thighs were.
He pulled a hand away from mine and lifted my chin. “You’re as perfect as the day I found you unconscious on my property,” he fibbed.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, dontcha think,” I said, wiping my eyes with the back of a hand after his sweet reassurance of how I looked.
“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not,” he added. “I like taking care of you, Hayes. Of course I want you healthy too, but being with you is what I like the most.”
I squeezed his hand tighter and stared into his blue eyes. “I need you, Bo,” I whispered. “I’m not very good at being a boyfriend though.”
“Is that what we are?” he asked, smiling and squeezing my hand in return.
“I want us to be,” I admitted. “I guess I need a bit more practice.”
“Why don’t we start with you holding my hand and us walking to the garden,” he encouraged. “Perhaps we can figure out how to go about getting you that practice you think you need.”
We walked side by side in silence while I concentrated on breathing and taking one deliberate step at a time. Bo had the love and patience of a saint. He was barely out of his teens but I’d never met a stronger, kinder, more level headed, human being in my life.
The garden was cool in the evening and other patients were gathered there enjoying the smell of lilacs and the setting sun. With every twenty steps I took, we would have to stop and let me catch my breath.
“Yesterday you could only do ten steps at a time, remember?” he asked, pride in his voice. “I’m proud of you, Hayes.”
I was crying yet again after his encouraging words. He’d stood by me through my recovery but I worried what would happen when I was well enough to be released from the hospital. My emotional baggage was a heavy load. “Why do you keep doing this?” I asked, turning to face him and staring down at my hands. “You deserve better than this, Bo.”
“Look at me, Hayes,” he insisted. I lifted my eyes to his and he wiped the tears from my cheeks. “So do you,” he added.
“I’m lost, Bo,” I confessed. “I think I’ve always been lost.”
“Don’t forget, baby, you were lost when I found you. You didn’t know who you were or where you were, but still I think you felt good about yourself.”
“I felt good because of you, Bo. I wasn’t haunted by disappointing people when I didn’t know who I was . . .or . . . what was my monetary value to others.”
“I loved you when we thought you could be penny less, and I feel the same knowing you’re ridiculously loaded,” he said.
Bo cautiously moved me to a bench and helped me sit before joining me with his side against mine. We remained quiet while I processed the past three months. I only assumed he was doing the same thing. The sun had disappeared behind a great oak and the tree’s shadow made scary shapes in the garden. I held his hand tighter. I didn’t want to let go. Ever.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” I whispered.
