“Since it’s just a bad sprain, they’re giving me meds, and I think maybe I’ll get crutches, but I should have discharge papers in the next few hours.”
“I’ll stay with you,” I say with a smile and shimmy my body up, lying beside him.
He wraps an arm around me, pulling me in close, and I inhale, thankful that he’s okay and not injured any worse.
25 Pepper
The day after Ben came home, I took him back to the hospital to see Mark, but they informed us that once he was bandaged up, he requested to leave at the disapproval of his doctors. Ben’s phone calls to Mark have all gone straight to voice mail, and he assumes Mark either doesn’t have his phone or is ignoring his calls.
The next few days after that have been weird. It’s like there’s been a shift between us, and I’m not sure what it is. Everything was fine as we cuddled on the hospital bed, but now, with the pain his ankle gives him and him not being able to move much, he’s kind of reverted into a shell of himself.
We almost go to being just roommates again. The difference is, now, I’m kind of like his caretaker, and I take my job very seriously. Maybe too seriously. I think I took it too far when I offered to give him a sponge bath.
I’m sitting in the den after getting home from classes, thankful I’m not scheduled to work tonight so that I can be here.
“Hey, Pep?” Ben’s voice floats down the hall from his room, and I jump from where I’m sitting on the couch, trying to give him space. “Can I get a hand in here?”
Oh my God, he needs me.
I hurry down the hall and stop in the doorway, seeing him sitting on the side of his bed. He’s trying to move his bound ankle off the bed while reaching for his crutches. I step into the room and stand in front of him as he looks at me.
“Need the bathroom?” I ask.
Jeez, I sound like his mom.
“Nah, I thought I would come sit out in the den with you.”
“You did?”
He’s been holed up in his room for the entire time, only talking to me when I ask him questions.
“Yeah, I think my room needs to be aired out.”
It does, but I was trying to be polite since he does have a sprained ankle and all that.
“Great. Let me open your window and turn on your fan.”
I run around the room, flinging blinds up and trying to freshen it up the best I can, while Ben sits there, watching me, a frown on his face.
“I wasn’t being serious,” he says, eyeing me.
“Oh, well … I was.” I give him a sweet smile and continue trying to air out the room. “It’s not smelly, just needs some sunlight.”
I grab his crutches from where they are resting against the wall and hand them to him. Then, I help pull him to standing. Well, I try to pull. I don’t budge him much, and he ends up having to do most of it himself. I throw his comforter back as soon as he stands up, and I strip the sheets in record time, throwing them and the extra clothing on the floor into a laundry basket to put in the wash later.
“Where are your second set of sheets?” I ask Ben.
When he doesn’t answer, I glance up at him from where I’m tossing pillows back on the bed. He’s staring at me blankly, and I straighten up and put my hands on my hips.
“You do have a second set of sheets, right?”
“No. Should I?”
He furrows his brow, and I fight the urge to laugh.
“Do you just wash these immediately and put them back on?”
“Yes. Doesn’t everyone?”
“I can’t speak for everyone, but I have three sets of sheets—two for summer and one for winter.”
“What happens when you have to wash the winter set?”
“I just put a summer one on until it’s done.”
Ben nods and starts toward the door, moving his crutches forward and then swinging his body after, ankle lifted. His face contorts in pain, and I almost tell him to lie back down but stop myself. He doesn’t need to lie in this dark, stuffy cave he calls a room all the time. It will be good for him to get out and sit in the den.
“Do you need any of your painkillers?”
“No, I’m okay.” He continues his slow process down the hall.
I beat him to the couch, which isn’t very hard, considering the snail’s pace he’s moving at right now. I lean down and fluff the pillows before he sits, and I move the coffee table closer to the couch, placing a pillow where he can rest his foot on top of it.
“Thanks,” he grunts as he sits.
I nod and wring my hands as I watch him settle in. Part of me wants to fuss over him, and the other part of me knows that I can’t take one more grumpy, unappreciative look from him, so I do the next best thing and head to the kitchen for drinks and snacks.
“What do you want to drink? We have Gatorade, sweet tea, and water.” I pop my head around the corner and look at him.
“Do we have anything stronger?” He raises an eyebrow, and I frown. “I’m kidding,” he says with a grin.
I’m so taken aback that he’s making a joke after his melancholy attitude the last few days that I just stare at him until he clears his throat.
“Sorry. I just haven’t seen you smile in a while. It’s nice.”
I smile back at him, and we spend a few seconds staring at each other.
“Water is fine. Do you have any more of those chocolate chip cookies?”
I step back around the corner and smile to myself.
He likes my cookies.
“Sure do. It’s my grandma’s secret recipe, so don’t ask for it.”
I stuff three cookies in one hand and two bottles
