Seven

I woke up groggy; the pain drugs make me grumpy and hungry. This has to be what hells feels like. The pain is less now but I still can’t do anything by myself. I’m bathed and helped to get dressed. Food is brought to me. The hospital dismissed a concussion, I haven’t been able to do anything by myself.

I have slept for two whole days, and now two more in a daze. I wake up and Carla helps me to the bathroom, she helps me get dressed, brushes my hair and puts me back into a freshly made bed. She helps me with the food and then forces me to take a new set painkillers that makes me sleepy and it starts all over again.

I feel like I have lost months on this bed.

Also, there’s Andreas, I learned he hates his name. Carla teases him or so she tells me. I learned a few things about him too, Carla talks too much but is not a bad thing, her voice is soothing and she warm, like a mother. I like her, the way she treats me and talks to me almost makes me feel good about myself.

“Where’s the rest of the family?”

“There all gone now. He’s an only child. No close relatives around this area, all of them back in Greece.” She’s fussing with my hair today. Air drying it is not the best choice, not when all my products are back at home.

“He’s greek?” That’s unexpected. And someone doesn’t surprises me. His coloring, his looks. They all scream god-like, I picture him wearing of those costumes, like the ones on the TV shows; Ares god of war and it brings a smile to my lips. He’s sculpted, from the tip of his nose to the veins that bulge slightly on his arms.

Yes, I have noticed a lot of things. He’s kept his distance the moment I stepped into his house but before, that night and obviously around town, it was impossible not to stare.

“Yes. Half, his mother was American.” She untangles with care, careful around the areas where my scalp is still tender.

“You mean he’s an orphan.”

“Sadly yes. Wallace and I took care of that kid. I been his mother for a long time.”

“Walace is your husband.” I interject.

“No. We’re more like companions. I was never married and he took me and my son in when I had nowhere else to go; my son lives in the city. A business man, suit and all. He ran off the ranch life a long time ago.” Is almost a sand story but I can tell by her way of speak that she’s proud. Both of her sons were successful. Her real son is rarely seen, sticks to the city and works hard hopping that someday he will get his big chance to make it big in the business world.

The other one, came from money but has the brains and hands for it. He hasn’t showed up ever since the day I was moved here. I remember the thing he told me when I passed out, is not up to me. Is not like I miss him or anything but this is his home. My brother was here, he said something silly about me being here helped but I didn’t understand what he meant at the moment and the more I think about it the more it worries me, the tone and the smile, not even a little bit. I guess it was the drugs but still, he at least came my dad won’t stand foot on this house. Over his dead body first also is not like he cares a little bit about me.

The doctor visited again today for the second time this week. I’m healing up nicely but still can’t leave. I can’t go home. I can’t be moved, my leg is all swelled up, I’m purple all over and full of scratches and scabs. Again, nothing is broken but it feels like it some parts of me were.

“You think I could leave soon? ”

“Is too soon to tell, and your leg can’t hold your weight yet.” I almost stand up to demonstrate that I can while Clara just looks at me with disapproval.

“Patience.”

“That’s going to take forever,” I start complaining. “That’s an old facture. It always hurts. Please tell doctor to send me home. I want to go home”

“I’m sorry Rebecca, but a few more days and maybe you can go home. I’m going to have someone bring crutches and I’ll see if I can dig an orthopedic boot, we need to immobilize the leg.” I let out an exaggerated sigh and lay back, I’m so bored in here. I don’t even have a book to keep me entertained. I asked Carla if she had anything, even a manual would help but she has been MIA since this morning. Just the one girl that helps around the house brought me food and help edme to the bathroom but I have spent the whole day on my own, looking out the window.

I outgrew my first and only boot. I was too young when the accident happened and since money had always been an issue I learned how to hide whenever I was in pain, the disapproving looks I got whenever any complains escaped me were enough to teach myself how to.

“You look better.” I must have been lost in my old memories. Is too late when I notice him.

And oh my.

He’s here. He’s wearing a suit, that’s odd. I would never, even in my wildest dreams imagine him a in suit. He wears it well. Too well, I don’t like it. I want to tell him to take it off.

“I feel better. The doctor said I could go.”

“Little liar.” He says under his breath shaking his head.

It was worth to try.

“Someone named Lacey was here yesterday but you were sleeping. She came in for a few minutes.” Wow. Lacey up here, lately she rarely goes to my house but here, here is forbidden territory. She must really love me.

“Thanks.” I notice he’s not leaving, in fact he’s sitting on the bed, right beside me. “What are you doing?” He starts loosening the tie followed by the jacket and cuff links. Rolling the sleeves up. He looks good dressed up, his hair looks different and his beard is trimmed. Ok, I’m taking too much notice on his appearance.

“I’m making myself comfortable.”

“Well. Can’t you make yourself comfortable in your own room?”

He smiles and kicks off his shoes ignoring me completely. He is the worst. I want to kick him, but when he starts to open the top button of his shirt I panic. “Get out!” One thing is that I find him attractive all dressed up, another one is finding him attractive without any clothes. I don’t want to know what is under all the layers of clothes. So far it was golden skin, a bit of body hair present but if he kept opening up more buttons, I was going to find out soon what else was underneath.

“I can’t”

“Yes, you can! Go to your room!”

“But, this is my room.”

That shut me up. That shut me up good. I have sleeping on his bed for almost a week, bathed in his bathroom. I didn’t even want to know where he slept while I was knocked out by the pin pills and other drugs that they kept feeding me.

There was nothing that said this room belonged to someone. The furniture was minimal, enough to keep clothes but nothing more. No pictures, no paintings, no decorations. Either he took out anything that could have given away that he really is a person o this is just a resting stop. Also, also the thought of him bringing women to this bed made me a little panicky, their body fluids stuck to my skin. Hell, I’ve been soaking up on them for days.

“Do you bring your women here?” He frowns but before he can say anything Carla storms into the room.

“Only if he wants to get his ass whopped.” She balances what it looks like my lunch. “The only woman allowed in this house is me. And now you darling.” She places the tray lightly on my lap and gives him the evil eye to what he proceeds to wiggle his eyebrows.

Disgusting.

Today is soup, my stomach is sensitive to the strong pain meds so Carla makes something light for me every day. I miss the meaty and strong seasoning flavors. A hamburger right now, I’d give my good leg for one but one can’t deny that the soup also tastes, good. I can’t chew on anything but it makes my belly feel warm.

Being watched while eating is not one my favorite feelings, and even more when it’s him. His current posture exudes power. The jacket of suit now discarded, the white shirt with the sleeves all rolled up to his elbows showing off his strong forearms.

The hard lines of his face and the way his gaze feels like a glazing fire on my face. He must hate the position he finds himself in, taking care the woman that a week ago he dismissed. I’m nothing but a pebble in his shoe. He will soon get rid of me, like a worthless thing that one time presented in his path but no longer presents a value.

“Eat your food.”

That’s when I notice how hard I’m holding the spoon, all my muscles are tight. He makes me anxious.

“Go on, little lamb. You need your strength if you really want to go home.” He’s mocking me. The cruel curve on his lips tells me there wasn’t any kindness directed towards me.

He not wrong, I do need to get better and eating is one way to get my body back. To get my strength back so I take a spoonful, barely tasting the warm liquid.

My heart start racing a million miles per hour the second he moves closer. “Messy little lamb.” He says as his thumb swipes my chin. “Do I need to feed you too?”

The soup sloshes around the bowl when I pull myself away from him but he’s fast, taking it and moving it to the nightstand. He’s being scary on purpose, he doesn’t care if my leg throbs or my anxiety has elevated to the maximum level. He enjoys it, he likes it. Seeing me squirm.

“No.”

“No what?” His breath brush my face.

“You don’t have to feed me.” There’s nowhere to go, its the headboard, me and him. “You don’t have to.” I say the second time with more confidence.

“Good.” He proceeds to place the bowl back on the tray and stands up. With a quick nod he proceeds to vacate the premises with a slow but sure stroll. He’s gone alright but now I can’t help but feel him here, everywhere. This is his room, his bed, his house.

The rest of the day goes by slowly. The sounds from coming from outside is the only thing I have to keep my mind entertained. There’s barely any activity inside the house, or at leas the part they keep me. Isolated from everyone and everything. A book would be fantastic, even a dictionary would do. Anything to keep my brain busy from overthinking, to stop remembering the past.

A knock on the door suddenly makes my whole body tense, is like it can tell who is on the other side or at least hopes that it's him but as soon as the door opens and Cameron’s face appears it deflates.

“Hey.”

We’re awkward. There hasn’t been a moment where I felt like he didn’t want me close or had some sort of grudge against me.

“Hi.”

“How are you doing?” He doesn’t smile. He rarely does when he talks to me.

“Better.”

“Good.” He fumbles with his hat. “Dad wanted to know how you were doing?”

“Why isn’t he here then?”

A sigh and then and a shake of the head. He doesn’t have to say it, my father hates me. “He’s busy.”

Sure, he’s always busy for me.

Then I guess there is no more to be said. Just like the situation at home, we can’t hold a conversation. We might be siblings but there was nothing there anymore, we shared a roof but that was it. Complete strangers with the same last name. I guess he hates me even more now that I seem to resemble her more everyday.

“I guess you’re busy too.” Yes, I’m giving you a way out I want to say to him when his eyes find mine. He hasn’t been my brother for the longest time, I no longer miss him. “Tell dad I’m okay.”

That’s it.

He leaves just like he came, no warm words, no get better, not even a hug. Always keeping me at arm distance, always treating me like a stranger.

And to think I wanted to save our family, this once again shows me how foolish I was. That trying to make things right will get me nowhere. At least they all think me being here was the result of a good samaritan act and not me offering myself to save the last place she lived, the last memories we had. To save her.

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Chapter 8