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“I’m observant and have excellent recall.”
“Enviable traits.”
“Or a double curse.”
He didn’t touch that. One misstep here could take him down a rabbit hole, so he didn’t ask why she considered those traits to be curses, because he could guess the reason, and, thank God, she didn’t elaborate. He didn’t think he could sit through an elaboration.
They lapsed into a strained silence, strangers with an elephant the size of Everest between them. Also connecting them.
Making even brief eye contact had become uncomfortable. He hunched over again and resumed his examination of the terrazzo floor. Beads of sweat slalomed down his ribs. His skin felt stretched too tight, and it itched from the inside.
In his peripheral vision, he noticed her casting another anxious glance toward the office door, which remained firmly shut. She looked at her wristwatch and murmured, “They said three o’clock.”
“Compton and Perkins?” When she nodded, he said, “They told me to be here at two forty-five.”
“It’s ten after three. You haven’t seen them yet?”
He shook his head.
“Do you know why they asked to see us?”
“No. You?”
“No.” She looked down into her lap. She pulled her lower lip through her teeth a few times, then, raising her head suddenly, said, “I thought you were dead.”
Always one with a glib comeback, he blanked. He couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“There were people who were suddenly there. Helping. When… when they lifted you off the stroller, they stretched you out on the ground.”
“I don’t remember any of that.”
“You were very still.”
“When I fell, I was knocked unconscious.”
“There was a lot of blood on you.”
“A blood vessel in my arm got clipped. They repaired it in surgery.”
“I see.” Her throat was pale and slender. It worked with the effort to swallow. “I couldn’t tell if it was your blood or Charlie’s.”
He needed to get the fuck out of here. Hereallyneeded to get the fuck out of here. Before the sweat he was leaking from every pore began to soak through his clothes. Before he ran completely out of oxygen. Before his eyes produced tears.
Again, he swiveled his head, looking for an exit sign.
“How long were you in the hospital?”
He turned his attention back to her. “Five days.”
“How is your arm now?”
He looked down at it as though needing to consult it before replying. “It’ll be okay. In time. After some PT.”
“No residual damage?”
He shook his head and croaked out, “No. They don’t think so.”Unlike you.
He looked into her dewy eyes and held them momentarily, then looked down at his right hand as he restlessly rubbed it up and down his thigh. “I’ll be honest with you, Ms. Portman. I’m at a complete loss here. I don’t know what to say to you. It’ll either sound insensitive, or insincere, or like the babble of a complete ass who doesn’t have a clue as to what you’re going through. Anything I said would just bewrong.”
