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“Well, it means that Jackson’s body is healing. Again, we can’t tell how far it’ll go. We don’t know how much feeling or strength he’ll gain back. But the fact of how much improvement we’ve seen over, what, a week and a half? Jackson, this is great news.”
Jackson nods, his mouth open, ready to speak. Nothing comes out. He looks in shock.
“Did you feel anything today? With the test results?”
Jackson nods. “Just a little. Like a hum.”
Dr. Peterson beams. “Wonderful! I want you to keep track of any spasms or feelings you have over the next couple weeks until our next appointment. Can you do that? Keep a journal or something?”
“Yes, we’ll do that.” I say, nodding my head at a fast pace. I’m overly eager, hanging on every word and instruction. I’m almost wishing I brought a piece of paper and a pencil so I could write down what he’s saying.
Once we’re finished and headed home, the words finally sink in. They finally hit me.
“Oh. My. Fucking. God!” I scream, hitting the steering wheel as tears flood my eyes. “Holy shit!” I break down in sobs, my shoulders hunching over with the strength of my cries and I can barely see my hands on the steering wheel.
“What? Cara! Fucking pull over.” He barks at me.
I do as I’m told, pulling over onto the shoulder of the highway, I let out a howling cry of relief and worry and hope and sadness.
What I have been through in life pales in comparison to what Jackson has been through. If he doesn’t get his mobility back, I’m afraid of what he’ll do.
I would give my feeling for him to gain his back. I would give anything.
“What are you crying like that for?”
I look over at him, seeing his fuzzy appearance looking at me with hesitancy. Like I’m a beaten cat. Unsure on the outside, feral on the inside. I’ve heard about the post-pregnancy emotions, but until this second, I never realized it was actually true.
“Cara, what the fuck?” I think he’d press me up against the car door by this point if he could, lashing harsh words in my face so that I can be brought back down to earth. Without his commanding demeanor, I’m left an unorganized hurricane.
“I’m just… happy. And scared. And hurt.”
His face falls flat. “Why?” He asks, but I’m not sure he really wants to know. No one wants to delve deep into the mechanisms of a relationship and emotions on the shoulder of the freeway. Yet, this is where we ended up.
“I want you to get your feeling back. More than anything, I want you to feel, and walk, and run. I want you to press up against me and touch me. I miss you. And I’m scared we’ll never able to do any of those things again. And I’m hurt because you stabbed me—but it wasn’t in the spine or in the stomach—no, it was in the fucking heart the moment you told me I wasn’t enough.”
“I never said—” He starts, growling the words with anger curled around each letter.
I cut him off. “You didn’t have to say it. Your eyes told me all by themselves. See, I’ve gotten to know you quite a bit over the last year. What you don’t speak with your mouth, your eyes say clearly. I know you.”
“Apparently not.” Gone is his anger and in its place is an emptiness that makes chills break out down my arms.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because if you could read my eyes you would have known that I didn’t want you to walk out of that room. Not one bit. Never, not ever, have I thought you weren’t enough. If anything, I’m not enough. I’m the fucking peasant in this equation. If anything, my eyes were pleading for you to go find someone that’s good enough. But then I realize, that won’t ever happen.”
I hiccup a cry. “Why?” I wipe my eyes.
“One, because no one will ever be good enough for you. Two, if you did end up with someone else, I’d kill them. Easily. In one breath. With one blink. No hesitation.”
My cries dry up, and the emotion in the car goes from waves of the wildest hurricane to the eye of the storm. Silence. No noise can be heard besides our breathing and the occasional car flying by the truck.
“Come here.” He murmurs.
I scooch over, sliding across the bench seat over to his side of the car.
“Come here.” He lifts his eyebrows, and I slide closer, ending only inches away from him. I breathe heavily, my chest heaving as my breath mingles with his in a concoction of tension and desire.
“Come here.” He whispers one last time, and I lean forward, connecting my lips with his in a heat filled kiss. Our teeth mash as we fight for more from the other. He bites down on my lip, hard. My mouth drops open as he laps up the drop of blood.
