Ruin (16 page)

“But … wait, is this the first time you can shower since …?”

“Oh, well …” She blushes. “I’ve been washing with just a wet cloth, which does the job, but it just doesn’t feel nice, you know?”

“Right … I get it.” I nod, trying to let it sink in that I’m going to see her naked for the first time.

Oh, boy.

How am I going to stop this fucking hard-on from raging right in front of her? I’m going to lose that battle, for sure.

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine too … but … I don’t know who else to ask.” She looks down at the floor.

“No, no, I’d love to help,” I say. It’s not her fault. I’m the problem here, and I should get over it. I grab her crutches and give them to her. “Let’s go then.”

She nods and then gets up, walking with me to the bathroom. There’s a plastic chair already placed near the shower, probably put there by her dad. I scoot it closer and help her sit down.

Her fingers curl underneath her shirt, and she pulls it over her head. I try not to look, but her pink bra is too sexy, and I find myself sneaking glances.

I shouldn’t be thinking of her this way. It’s wrong, and right now, she needs my help.

So I clear my throat and then grab one of the towels from the cabinet and hold it out to her.

She smiles as she holds it over her chest and then unhooks the straps of her bra, giving her bra to me. “Can you put it in the laundry bin, please?”

“Sure.” I try not to make a big deal out of it … even though I’m holding her bra. Jesus Christ.

I quickly throw it in the laundry and then help her take off the big pink, woolen socks she’s wearing. It’s the only type that currently fits around her swollen foot.

“Be careful,” she says as I lift up the foot attached to the painful leg.

“You gotta take off your pants,” I say.

She holds out her hand. “Hold my hand, I need support.”

I grab her hand, and she lifts up her butt to pull down her pajama pants along with her panties. I turn my head away, as I don’t want to invade her privacy. But I guess it’s already too late for that, considering I’m helping her undress.

Once she’s seated again, I grab another towel so she can cover her lower part as well. Then I turn on the shower and keep it away from her until it’s warm. She smiles gently at me, her cheeks rosy from embarrassment, and I can’t help but feel the same.

But I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable around me, so I say, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah … just a little strange, that’s all.”

“I don’t think it’s strange at all. You need help, and that’s what I’m here for.”

“I know, but I never imagined getting undressed like this for the first time in front of my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend.

Did she just say that out loud?

Her eyes widen, and she snaps her lips shut while I look away, pretending not to have heard. I know she’d prefer it that way. It’s just a slipup. At least, that’s what I tell myself … because if it was the truth, I might faint.

I grab a small cloth from the cabinet and soak it in the water. Then I hand her all her gels and shampoos. “I don’t know which one you want,” I say, laughing it off.

She picks her favorite. I can’t help but feel like I should’ve known this.

“It’s okay, I can use these two.” She hands me back the rest. “Could you do my feet? I can’t get underneath them.”

“Of course.” I take the gel from her hand and squirt some onto the cloth, lathering it nicely. I go to my knees and look up at her, asking for permission with just my eyes. She doesn’t say no as I gently grab her foot and start rubbing it in with the soap. I continue up to her leg until just below the towel, and then repeat the process for her other leg too.

It’s kind of peaceful … helping someone … helping her.

Sitting here with her all alone feels very intimate and relaxing.

Maybe it’s the way she’s gazing at me, full of wishes and hope that I can fix what’s been lost. No voices, no words. Nothing is needed when we look at each other. There’s only unconditional love and utter devotion, and I can see the gratitude in her eyes.

If my presence alone could fix her, then everything would be okay. But it can’t.

We continue with the soaping until she’s all lathered up, and then I douse her feet and legs with water, careful to keep her wound dry. It still has the stitches in it, and when I look at it, it makes me cringe. It must hurt a lot.

“Thank you,” she says, looking down at me. “For doing this for me.”

I smile, feeling like she’s trying to make me less uncomfortable, even though she doesn’t have to.

I just wish I could take away all her pain.

After she washes her hair and uses the showerhead to clean herself, I hand her another towel so she can dry herself off. She needs help with her legs and feet, as well as her back. I try not to look, but it’s hard to rub properly when you don’t know where your hand is going, so I have to sneak a glance sometimes.

Every damn time I look at her, my body stiffens, and so does something else.

I’m glad when we’re finished, even though I still have to help her put her panties on. Luckily, she can do the top bit on her own. Then I hand her some soft pajamas, slide her socks on again, and guide her out of the bathroom.

I sit her down on the couch and go to the kitchen to make some tea for her, which is when she turns on the television. I listen to the broadcast as I pour the water into the pot and set down a cup with a strawberry teabag—her favorite flavor.

When the water boils, I pick up the pot and pour it into the cup.

“Hey, Alex …” she suddenly speaks up. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

I blush. “Oh, I …”

I put down the pot and stare at the swirling water.

My stomach is in knots … but not because of what she asked.

It’s because she’s watching the news from weeks ago, probably trying to catch up on what she missed, and it’s talking about a crash.

I turn my head to face her, but she’s point-blank staring at the screen, her lips parting more and more. I know what she’s looking at. I’ve already seen it over and over again, but this is the first time she’s seeing it.

Her
car crash.

Her
body being pulled out of that car by me.

My face appearing on the screen.

I watch her face turn from shock to horror as she finds out it was me all along.

Her stalker. Her volunteer. Her savior.

It’s all a lie.

I quickly pick up the cup of hot tea and place it near her on the table then turn around and walk out the door. “I have to go.”

“Wait,” she says, but it’s too late.

She can’t unsee what she just saw … and I can’t either.

Maybell

I can’t stop staring at the door through which he just ran.

I can’t believe it.

Alex isn’t just the guy from school.

He isn’t just a volunteer at the hospital who helped me get back on my feet.

He isn’t only the guy I played games with without knowing it was him.

He’s also the guy who rescued me.

The one who pulled me from the wreckage and got me safe and sound into an ambulance.

I look at the TV screen again and witness him pulling off a heroic act. Chills run down my spine as I watch him cover my body with his shirt, both our faces stained with soot from the fire. He pulled me from the car. My body. That’s me. And him.

He was there from the beginning.

And now, I can only wonder why he never told me.

Was he scared of how I would react?

I don’t understand. I’m not mad, but maybe he thinks I am.

After all, he didn’t tell me.

But then again … this explains everything.

Why he was at my door. Why he gave me the Snickers. Why he was so interested in me and came to my room the most, even though he was supposed to do rounds. He seemed so infatuated with me … and now, I realize why.

He already knew me before I knew him.

And it only makes me love him more.

I just don’t understand why he couldn’t tell me who he was all along. Was he afraid I’d call him a stalker? Maybe … he has been acting like one. I laugh to myself because it’s a stupid joke. Too bad he isn’t here.

But maybe I can get him to come back.

I don’t want him to leave. I only respect him even more now that I know what he did. He saved me. I feel nothing but love for him.

So I grab my phone and text him.

Please come back.

I wait, tapping my foot on the floor, but there’s no response. I could go look out the window, but I doubt he’s still there. And by the time I’m up from the couch and near the window, he’ll be long gone.

I pull out my phone again and press the call button. It beeps over and over again, but he never picks up. A dark, unsettling feeling nestles in my stomach. I wonder if he’ll ever text me back. If he’ll ever answer the call. If I’ll ever see him again.

Did I ruin it?

By turning on the television and watching the news, did I unknowingly push him away?

If only I could’ve told him what I thought before he left. If only he told me the truth so I could’ve explained how I felt.

If only.

There are so many of those.

I get up with my crutches and make my way to the kitchen where I make myself a quick sandwich, making sure to spread the jelly and peanut butter equally on all sides. I have to eat something because I’m feeling hungry, and I’m not cooking for a long while. Not until I can at least stand a little.

I was going to ask Alex if he wanted to order takeout, but now that he’s no longer here, it feels strange to order for just one person.

I sigh and eat my peanut butter and jelly sandwich in silence, listening to the news broadcast as I take small bites. But my mind is still stuck with Alex and what just happened.

After a while, I text him again.

Come back, please. I’m not mad, if that’s what you think. We should talk.

I place my phone down on the counter and take another bite again, but my stomach growls in protest. It doesn’t like eating when it’s stressed.

Still, no response from him, so I text him the last thing I can think of that will make him come back.

I need you.

The little icon shows he’s read it. I wait and wait. No reply.

Sighing, I tuck my phone into my pocket and a bottle of water in my other pocket, and then make my way back to the couch. For a few minutes, I watch the news again, but the memory of seeing my own body lying on the pavement with him standing above it, protecting me, helping the ambulance crew get me back to the hospital … it all repeats over and over in my mind.

Suddenly, my doorbell rings, and I shoot up from the couch.

Well, as fast as I can anyway.

Grabbing my crutches, I call out, “Coming!” and I walk to the door as fast as I possibly can with only one functioning leg. When I open the door and find him standing behind it, shoulders slumped, face hiding behind a storm of dark curls, my heart explodes.

He doesn’t speak a word, and neither do I, even though I said we had to talk.

I wouldn’t know what to say. He’s my hero.

The only one I can count on. The one who’s always been there.

I can only smile.

“I never wanted you to find out like that …” he mutters.

I step forward and take his hand, pulling him inside.

“You must think I’m a stalker. A freak.”

I shake my head and continue pulling him until I can close the door.

“You don’t understand,” he says. “I didn’t just pull you out of that car …”

“I know …” I say, bringing my hand to his face. His eyes are red, so I caress his cheeks, hoping he won’t cry.

“I didn’t just volunteer at the hospital for fun or for work. I only started working there because you were there. Because I had to come and find you.”

I lean into him and slowly wrap my arms around him, trying to let him know it’s okay.

“And it’s not just that,” he adds, still looking down. “I’ve always wanted you. From the beginning. The first time I saw you at school. Always.”

The word makes my head spin and my heart beat so fast, I can feel it through my entire body.

Always.

It fills me with something other than love … desire.

“And when you were in the hospital, I just knew I needed to be there. And I never even told you why I knew you were there. That I was the one who … who …”

I place my finger on his lips. “Shh … I understand.” My lips perk up into a smile and so do his. “You’re my hero. And I forgive you.”

“Don’t say that …” he whispers.

“I get it now. You don’t have to explain it. I’m not angry, and I’m not sad. I just want
you
.”

I look up at him with the biggest smile I can muster, and it seems to lighten his mood too.

There’s still a hint of something … a kind of darkness I can’t explain … but it’s okay for now. Some things are better left unsaid.

I turn around and take a step into the hallway, looking back to grab his hand and pull him along every step of the way. I slowly guide him to my living room and turn the lights off. His face glows in the dark as I lean in as close as I possibly can, wrapping my arms around his waist. My lips inch toward his and I softly press a kiss on the side of his lips, and then another one on the other edge.