Made for You
Page 26
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I cringe at the thought of my parents knowing that Nate slept here. “I’m sorry. If they find out, I can explain it.”
Even though they’re pretty hands-off on the parenting, I’m expected to follow the rules—those implied and those stated. I don’t always. I’ve been to more than a few of the same parties Nate attends, and I slept with Robert with no intention of marrying him. I’ve always been careful not to get a reputation though, and I’ve never dated anyone who didn’t go to church. I don’t draw attention to myself, not academically or socially. Taking up with Nathaniel Bouchet would raise a lot of brows and lower a lot of voices.
He’s said nothing, so I take a deep breath. “Still friends?”
He frowns before he pulls me closer. “Even if I was sure they would know I slept here, I’d still have stayed.” His lips graze my temple, and he whispers, “You’re worth the trouble, Eva.”
I can’t speak.
He stays holding me for a moment longer, and then he releases me and stands. As he moves away from me, I’m once more grateful for the darkened room. Hopefully, it hides the way I’m watching him. If we’re going to manage to be friends, I can’t let his words mean more than they should.
He rubs his hair, as if to smooth it down, and straightens his rumpled shirt. He doesn’t meet my gaze as he does this, and I have a half-present hope that he’s noticed me as more than a friend. Just as quickly as the thought forms, I dismiss it: I can’t imagine anyone is ever going to find me attractive once they look at the scars and red lines that divide my face like an oddly drawn map.
“See you tomorrow?” he asks.
“I should be going home.” I force my voice to sound as casual as I can make it. I don’t want to assume he’ll visit there.
“And . . . ?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay.” He gives me a little half wave and heads to the door.
Once he’s gone, I sigh. I’m pretty sure that if not for the hospital part of the evening, Robert would consider tonight cheating. I could point out the truth: nothing happened, and I’m not Nate’s type anyhow—especially now that I have a slashed-up face. It wouldn’t matter. I was draped over the guy every boy at school thinks is a threat; that would be reason enough for Robert to break up with me.
I need to talk to him and soon, not just about Nate, but also about why he isn’t visiting and where he was the night of the accident.
DAY 10: “THE PARENTS”
Eva
WHEN MY PARENTS WALK into my hospital room the next day, I’m a jumble of emotions. Micki is dead; Nate held me when I slept; I’m getting out of the hospital; my parents are seeing my scars. There’s too much feeling wrapped up tightly inside me right now. My head throbs; my eyes fill with tears.
My father stands at the doorway, staring at me. His face is unreadable.
“Hi, Dad.” I look away before my tears fall. “Hi, Mom.”
My mother comes over, starts to lean closer, but then stops and kisses the air above my head. Quietly, she whispers, “I was so scared. I wish we could’ve been here sooner.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her as she straightens. “I told you that.”
“Right.” She nods, steps farther back, and folds her hands together. She’s clenching them so tightly that her knuckles whiten. “I’ll go to the nurses’ station and tell them we’re ready. I’m sure there are forms to sign.”
Once the door closes behind her, my father lowers himself to the chair by the bed. He reaches out to touch me, and I don’t think anything of it until his hand brushes against my cheek, and I fall.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared. No, that’s not true. When Lizzy told me she was pregnant, I was petrified. Her father didn’t even know we were dating, and here we were with this to tell him. He could send her away, give my baby away. If he had suggested that, I’m not sure what Lizzy would have done. I smile thinking of her shock when I told her we should get married. I’m not sure how she could’ve thought I’d say anything else.
That was different though. That was the sort of fear that came from not being ready. I’m ready for this. I have been for months. Being ready doesn’t mean death stops being scary, just that the fear isn’t crippling.
The machines beside me beep and hiss. I wish I wasn’t alone right now. I could let go then. I can’t yet. Not until they get here. Lizzy and Eva will be hurt if they’re not here to say good-bye.
A nurse comes in to check on me, but I keep my eyes closed. I wonder what it was like for Eva when she was in here after the accident. I should’ve been there. Lizzy wanted to go, but we couldn’t get a flight.
The door opens again, and I realize that I was drifting again.
“Lizzy?”
“I’m right here, Daniel.”
She’s walking toward me. Eva is behind her, but her little ones aren’t with her. I suspect they’re in the hall with their father. Even though I’m still sure he’s not good enough for my baby girl, he seems to make her happy.
I smile, and then I let go.
I waited, but I’m so tired. So very tired.
I gasp, and my father jerks his hand away.
“Eva!”
“Cold,” I say, trying to minimize my shivering. “Sorry.” I smile, a nothing-to-worry-about smile. This hallucination thing has happened frequently enough that I feel like I should tell someone, but . . . not today. My parents are here to take me home. They’ve pulled some sort of strings to get me at-home examinations, and I’m afraid that if I tell anyone, I’ll be staying right where I am instead.
Even though they’re pretty hands-off on the parenting, I’m expected to follow the rules—those implied and those stated. I don’t always. I’ve been to more than a few of the same parties Nate attends, and I slept with Robert with no intention of marrying him. I’ve always been careful not to get a reputation though, and I’ve never dated anyone who didn’t go to church. I don’t draw attention to myself, not academically or socially. Taking up with Nathaniel Bouchet would raise a lot of brows and lower a lot of voices.
He’s said nothing, so I take a deep breath. “Still friends?”
He frowns before he pulls me closer. “Even if I was sure they would know I slept here, I’d still have stayed.” His lips graze my temple, and he whispers, “You’re worth the trouble, Eva.”
I can’t speak.
He stays holding me for a moment longer, and then he releases me and stands. As he moves away from me, I’m once more grateful for the darkened room. Hopefully, it hides the way I’m watching him. If we’re going to manage to be friends, I can’t let his words mean more than they should.
He rubs his hair, as if to smooth it down, and straightens his rumpled shirt. He doesn’t meet my gaze as he does this, and I have a half-present hope that he’s noticed me as more than a friend. Just as quickly as the thought forms, I dismiss it: I can’t imagine anyone is ever going to find me attractive once they look at the scars and red lines that divide my face like an oddly drawn map.
“See you tomorrow?” he asks.
“I should be going home.” I force my voice to sound as casual as I can make it. I don’t want to assume he’ll visit there.
“And . . . ?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay.” He gives me a little half wave and heads to the door.
Once he’s gone, I sigh. I’m pretty sure that if not for the hospital part of the evening, Robert would consider tonight cheating. I could point out the truth: nothing happened, and I’m not Nate’s type anyhow—especially now that I have a slashed-up face. It wouldn’t matter. I was draped over the guy every boy at school thinks is a threat; that would be reason enough for Robert to break up with me.
I need to talk to him and soon, not just about Nate, but also about why he isn’t visiting and where he was the night of the accident.
DAY 10: “THE PARENTS”
Eva
WHEN MY PARENTS WALK into my hospital room the next day, I’m a jumble of emotions. Micki is dead; Nate held me when I slept; I’m getting out of the hospital; my parents are seeing my scars. There’s too much feeling wrapped up tightly inside me right now. My head throbs; my eyes fill with tears.
My father stands at the doorway, staring at me. His face is unreadable.
“Hi, Dad.” I look away before my tears fall. “Hi, Mom.”
My mother comes over, starts to lean closer, but then stops and kisses the air above my head. Quietly, she whispers, “I was so scared. I wish we could’ve been here sooner.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her as she straightens. “I told you that.”
“Right.” She nods, steps farther back, and folds her hands together. She’s clenching them so tightly that her knuckles whiten. “I’ll go to the nurses’ station and tell them we’re ready. I’m sure there are forms to sign.”
Once the door closes behind her, my father lowers himself to the chair by the bed. He reaches out to touch me, and I don’t think anything of it until his hand brushes against my cheek, and I fall.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared. No, that’s not true. When Lizzy told me she was pregnant, I was petrified. Her father didn’t even know we were dating, and here we were with this to tell him. He could send her away, give my baby away. If he had suggested that, I’m not sure what Lizzy would have done. I smile thinking of her shock when I told her we should get married. I’m not sure how she could’ve thought I’d say anything else.
That was different though. That was the sort of fear that came from not being ready. I’m ready for this. I have been for months. Being ready doesn’t mean death stops being scary, just that the fear isn’t crippling.
The machines beside me beep and hiss. I wish I wasn’t alone right now. I could let go then. I can’t yet. Not until they get here. Lizzy and Eva will be hurt if they’re not here to say good-bye.
A nurse comes in to check on me, but I keep my eyes closed. I wonder what it was like for Eva when she was in here after the accident. I should’ve been there. Lizzy wanted to go, but we couldn’t get a flight.
The door opens again, and I realize that I was drifting again.
“Lizzy?”
“I’m right here, Daniel.”
She’s walking toward me. Eva is behind her, but her little ones aren’t with her. I suspect they’re in the hall with their father. Even though I’m still sure he’s not good enough for my baby girl, he seems to make her happy.
I smile, and then I let go.
I waited, but I’m so tired. So very tired.
I gasp, and my father jerks his hand away.
“Eva!”
“Cold,” I say, trying to minimize my shivering. “Sorry.” I smile, a nothing-to-worry-about smile. This hallucination thing has happened frequently enough that I feel like I should tell someone, but . . . not today. My parents are here to take me home. They’ve pulled some sort of strings to get me at-home examinations, and I’m afraid that if I tell anyone, I’ll be staying right where I am instead.
