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His smile seems genuine and crinkles the corners of his eyes. After he takes the cup back to the small tray by the bed, he resumes his seat.
His phone dings a minute later, and while he looks at the screen, I take a minute to look him over. He’s a good-looking man. I know I would have been attracted to him before my accident. His longish brown hair comes to his shoulders, and I’ve noticed over the last few days, he always pushes it behind his ears. His skin is tanned, but it looks natural, not from being outside in the sun, but from a family trait. His face is cleanly shaved with just a barely there hint of a shadow, like he shaved this morning and the bristle is already starting to grow through. I haven’t stood beside him, but seeing him from my bed, I can tell he’s tall. My perception could be off, but I’d put him at least six foot three. Through the T-shirt, it’s plain to see he’s muscular, not so much in a bulky way, more of a swimmer’s build.
I close my eyes when an image of the other man comes to mind. It’s fuzzy from being disoriented, but I remember him clear enough to know he’s bigger than Theo, like maybe he works out or is more active.
I open my eyes to find Theo watching me again. It always makes me feel weird when he does that. I avert my gaze to the bathroom door and it reminds me of his earlier question.
“I was able to walk to the… bathroom with the… walker.”
He doesn’t say anything for several seconds, so I look back at him. He has his elbow propped up on the armrest, his chin resting against his hand, and his thumb is rubbing his bottom lip. The look in his eyes unsettles me, and I pull my knees tighter to my chest.
“Did you… call them again?” My question comes out pained and stiff.
Theo frowns and his hand falls from his chin, then he takes both hands and runs them through his hair. He seems agitated all of a sudden as he blows out an audible breath.
“Yes,” he grumbles. “They didn’t answer. I left a message… again.”
My stomach cramps, and I can’t help the pain I know reflects on my face. Tears spring to my eyes, and I try to push them back, but they come anyway, landing on the blanket covering my knees. I turn my head away and stare blankly at the wall, my chin resting on my knees.
“Jules,” he calls, but I don’t look at him. “I’m sorry.”
He’s not as sorry as I feel. The last I remember of my family, we were all happy. They’ve always been uppity, thinking that people who weren’t in the same class as them, were below them, but I always ignored their beliefs. There was nothing I would have been able to say to change their minds, so I just learned to live with it, although I never felt the same way. What Theo said about them demanding I not see him doesn’t surprise me, but disowning me and not caring enough to visit me while I was in a coma… I just can’t picture them doing something so heinous. So hateful. And now that I’m awake, they still refuse to acknowledge me.
It hurts so much that they
abandoned me that it feels like there’s a physical wound in my chest. Like if I were to look down, there would a huge mess of blood covering my nightgown over my heart. I miss my parents, but I miss Teresa the most. She was my best friend for years after Melanie died.
Again, I feel lost and alone.
Gathering my inner strength and courage, I wipe my eyes and bring my gaze back to Theo.
“Could I….” I look down at the phone in his lap. “Could I use that… to call them myself?”
He glances down at the phone for a moment, looking undecided. My heart plummets at him refusing my request. I could ask one of the nurses to use the phone in the room, but I don’t have my parents’ number.
When he brings his head back up, his jaw is tense, but there’s an underlying sadness in his eyes.
“I just don’t want you to be hurt if they don’t answer or refuse to talk to you.”
His words send a shard of pain to my already battered heart. I steel myself against the ache. This is something I need to do.
“I know.” I sniff. “And… thank you. But I-I want to try it once. Maybe….” I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow thickly. “Maybe if they hear my v-voice, they’ll want to… talk.”
Again, indecision wars in his eyes, but after a moment, he nods. He fiddles with the slim device, then gets up from the chair and approaches the bed slowly. I appreciate his reluctance to scare me.
Holding out the phone, he points to the screen. “Press that button and it’ll connect you.”
I grab it with a shaky hand and look down at the screen.
Rozero is displayed across the screen with a number beneath it. I repeat the number in my head several times, hoping that I’ll memorize it for later.
I send up a silent prayer, begging God to let them answer, then press the green phone icon and bring it to my ear. It rings once, twice, three times. Over and over it rings, and each time it does, my hopes die a little more, and it feels like a part of me dies with them.
An electronic voice comes across the line telling me the person isn’t available. It repeats the phone number, then a human voice says Rozero. I close my eyes because the voice is male, and I know it’s my father’s. A tear leaks down my cheek when the beep sounds, indicating it’s time to leave a message. Several seconds pass before I open my mouth to speak.
“Mom, Dad?” I croak because I’m still crying. I clear my throat and try again. “It’s me. Jules.” I sniff and wipe my nose with my hand. “I miss you both.” A choked sob leaves my lips. “P-please please call me. My number is…” I look to Theo and he rattles off a number. After I repeat it, I whisper brokenly, “I love you.”
I pull the phone away from my ear and lie back in bed, blindly reaching out to hand it to Theo. He takes it, but doesn’t move away. I can see him out of the corner of my eye as more silent tears slide down my face. I look up at him and see sadness still in his eyes. My back stiffens, and I lie rigid as his hand comes toward my face.
