Wild Child

CHAPTER SIXTEEN- Rusty

There’s absolutely no doubt I have qualms about the last words Jenna and I said to each other. Unfortunately, she did as I asked and she stayed away.  Not only has it been lonely and boring, but I’ve got too much time on my hands to think about her.

I teeter between regret and bitterness.  On the one hand, I feel like I pushed her away.  Maybe she would’ve proved me right and gone anyway.  But maybe, just maybe, she’d have proved me wrong and she’d have hung around.  If I hadn’t practically pushed her out the door, that is.

But after dwelling on that for a little while, bitterness rushes in.  Even if Jenna had stayed longer, it wouldn’t have been permanent. And I’m nobody’s charity case.  I don’t want her hanging around here because she feels sorry for me.  Oh, hell no!

Needless to say, I’m pretty much a bear by the time Trick and Cami get home from their honeymoon and come to see me.

“Got a regular room now, huh, haus?  I heard you spent some time in the ICU,” Trick says as he strides in, Cami’s hand tucked firmly in his.  They’re both tan and glowing.  And not just the skin kind of glowing. It’s the kind that radiates from somewhere deeper, the kind that comes from being happy all the way down to your soul.

“Good God, it’s about time!” I say.  “I’m surprised there’s anything left of her.  How long has it been?”

Trick laughs.  Cami blushes.  “Just two weeks, you dick.  What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“Other than the obvious?” I ask.

“Yes, smart ass.  Other than the obvious.”

“I’m in here. Isn’t that enough?”

“I figured you’d be milking this and getting three sponge baths a day from Jenna,” he teases.

“Not hardly.”

Trick gives me an exasperated sigh.  “All right, what’d you say to her?  This has to be your fault. Otherwise, Jenna would probably be here right now, soaping up her sponge.”

“You mean you haven’t talked to her since you got back?”

“I haven’t.”

We both look at Cami.  Her eyes get wide and her expression turns to that of a cornered animal.  “What?  We literally just drove in from the airport.  I haven’t seen anybody yet.”

“Haven’t seen, but have you talked to anybody?” Trick asks.

 Cami’s mouth opens a couple of times like she wants to say something, but finally she closes it and sighs.  “Yes.”

“Jenna?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And, she asked if we’d been by yet. I told her we hadn’t.”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much.”  Cami looks from me to Trick and back again.  She rocks back on her heels and drops Trick’s hand to smack her own together.  “So, where’s the vending machine?  I need to get a bottle of water or something. I’m thirsty.”

Likely story, I think.  But I don’t say that. “I walked by some yesterday when they let me out of bed to do PT.  Down the hall and to the left.”

“They already let you out of bed?”  Trick asks after Cami leaves.

“Hell yeah, they did!  I almost kissed the poor guy that was my nurse yesterday when he told me.  Before that, my arm was in traction.  I couldn’t even take a piss without it being a big production.”

“How’d you do when you finally got to get up?”

“They wanted me to take it slow.  Evidently I strained some ligaments in my hip pretty bad.  But I was bound and determined that, come hell or high water, I was getting out of this damn bed.  I wanted ‘em to know I was ready to be discharged.”

I pause before I finish telling him what happened.  It’s during that time that Trick, my best friend who knows me better than anybody, figures it out.

“Busted your ass, didn’t you?”

I can’t help but grin.  “Pretty much.  I was a lot weaker than I thought I’d be.  When the therapist got me up, I tried to walk ahead.  Thought I’d show him how self-sufficient I am.  Well, I showed him all right.”

Trick throws back his head and laughs.  I shake my head, letting him get it out of his system.  “Did it get better after they scooped up your pathetic ass?”

“Yeah, a little. I’m still kinda weak, but I’m doing as much as I can from the bed.  I’ll be out of here as soon as is humanly possible.”

Trick nods his head, still smiling.  When the silence stretches on, he steps closer to the bed.  “So, what happened with Jenna?  You did something stupid, didn’t you?”

“Man, why do you always take her side?”

“Because I know you.  You’re a guy.  We do stupid shit.”

“Well, it wasn’t me this time.  She was getting ready to leave soon anyway. I spared her the trouble of having to come back up here and babysit.”

“You really are an idiot, aren’t you?”

“No, because I was right.  She’s not staying around here, Trick.  That was never her plan. And it still isn’t.  She’s getting a job somewhere else.  Period.  The end.”

“Just because she doesn’t want to live in this town forever doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to be with you.  Hell, you even talk about getting away from here and opening up a classic restoration shop near a big city.  How is that any different?”

“Because I’d never leave someone I loved.  Not for a job, not for anything.”

“Have you ever asked her to stay?  For you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I know she doesn’t want to. Why would I ask her to stay when I know she doesn’t want to?”

“Then how the hell can you be mad at her for leaving?”

I’m getting irritated.  “Look, I can’t explain it to you.  You obviously don’t get it.  She’s not the kind to stick around.  That’s it.  It was a fun thing while it lasted. Now it’s over.  Leave it the hell alone, will ya?”

Trick just shakes his head, but he doesn’t say anything more about it.  Even though, in a way, I wish he would.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN- Jenna

I wander aimlessly through the house.  I stroll through the den, with its comfy brown sofa and dark cream walls, then into the dining room.  I let my fingers trail over the chair backs, making note of the worn edges.  It’s the suit my grandparents gave to my parents as a housewarming gift when they signed over the orchard then left for retirement in Florida.  It was brand new once upon a time.  Now it looks old and worn.  And loved.  Every smooth spot, every faded spot is the result of being handled thousands of times by Mom and Dad, and by Jake and me.

Although my father sent us off to school shortly after my mother’s death, this house still holds a million precious memories. They’re just not enough to make me want to stay here.  Few things are.

I move on into the kitchen, noticing, as I always do, the faint smell of peaches.  It must be permanently embedded in the wood of the floors and the plaster of the walls.  The kitchen always smells sweet, just like the orchard outside.