Life on the Level (16 page)

“Maybe we should get Apollo’s muzzle,” I say.

Ransom looks like he might just have a heart attack. I decide to keep my mouth shut.

“Listen, I know you broke my nose and all,” Randy says after a minute’s silence. “But I can really feel this energy between us. I’ve never felt this way before.”

“I think that energy you’re feeling is disgust,” I say.

Hutch gets up and draws the curtain between our beds. I break into a smile and shake my head. I mouth, “thanks.”

He sighs. He takes off the ice pack. Looks over his shoulder. Kisses the red of my knuckles, then places the pack back. I shut my eyes. Suddenly, I take back the wish about being numb. Hasn’t numbness led me here?

Nurse Jean returns with a tampon and scissors in her hand. I let out a barking laugh, then clap my free hand over my mouth.

“What the hell?” Randy shouts.

“Best way to stop the bleeding.” She cuts it in half.

I pull the curtain back just in time to see her insert the split tampon into Randy’s nostrils. I don’t think he can hate me any more than he already does. Nurse Jean feels the bridge of his nose. It’s not broken, otherwise I’d probably be in more trouble. But when Ransom looks at me, I know I’m not off the hook just yet.

• • •

I take my dinner tray outside. It’s a little cold, but there’s a fire and I’ve got my Mets hoodie. A few patients watch the sun set from the wooden lawn chairs lined up to face the mountains. I pull my chair towards the flames. My right hand is stiff, and Nurse Jean insisted on bandaging it. After everything was said and done, Ransom made a point of telling me I have a good punch, but not to use it on anyone again. He invited me to his morning kickboxing sessions once I’m all healed up.

I grab my sandwich with one hand, most of the meat falling out of the bottom. I am a pathetic baby bird who can’t feed herself. I push the food tray down and watch the fire until the light dances in my vision even when I look away.

“Hey, Trouble,” Hutch says.

“You again,” I say, feigning disgust.

“I keep cropping up like an old weed.”

“You know what they say about weeds?”

He shakes his head.

“You just give them a good tug.”

He laughs. “That was terrible. Don’t quit your day job.”

“My day job right now is being an addict.”

He sits beside me and rests his elbows on his knees. “Your day job is being a recuperating addict.”

“Do you always have to be objective?”

“No. I just don’t want you to be so hard on yourself.”

We watch the fire crackle. He takes a stick and throws it into the fire. The log is one of those chemical ones that burn for three hours, but he does it anyway because he needs to keep his hands busy. He crosses his hands back and forth. He cracks his knuckles. He’s trying to keep a cool, professional persona. He gets up and turns around on the log to face me.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Didn’t Ransom tell you?”

“I still want to hear your side of it.”

So I tell him. “When I was little people used to tell my dad to get a babysitter. To not take me to
those
places because I’d turn out bad. I’m not a bad person, though. I happen to make bad decisions sometimes, but doesn’t everyone? I can’t be the only fuckup in the world. I also happen to drink like a fish and gamble long after I should’ve folded. It’s not like my dad forced me to learn how to play.”

“How did he teach you?” In the firelight, Hutch’s skin looks warmer. The shadows make his face look more angular, his hair darker. In this moment, I have to catch myself from falling into his deep brown eyes.

“Before my mom left us for good,” I say, “she used to go on these benders. She’d be gone for days, sometimes weeks. I was little. Maybe five. My dad had to work, and his work was at a bar. He didn’t trust me staying with neighbors, because he didn’t trust people in general. Plus, I was really talkative and friendly.”

“Wow, you’ve changed.”

I jab his leg, and he laughs. “
Anyway.
He was probably afraid I’d talk to strangers. Or that one day I’d be gone like my mom. So he took me to the bar, and the waitresses watched over me. Most of them were old and had their own kids. Those were the ones who would give me my own bowl of peanuts, and milk or juice. Sometimes he’d be at a game and I’d want to sit on his knee. I was instructed not to talk. It was the only time I ever listened, watching my dad check his cards. My favorite card was always the Ace of Hearts, because it was red and I liked hearts.”

“No one minded you there?”

I shrug. “I don’t really remember. It wasn’t a casino or anything. It was one of those backroom games that are definitely not legal. Sometimes strangers would come in and look at me like I was a sewer rat. Only one guy ever accused my dad of cheating through me.”

“What happened to him?” Hutch asks. When he looks at me, I find myself embarrassed by the things I say, or the things I’ve seen. I’m never embarrassed about this. I just don’t want Hutch, of all people, to think of me differently. Should I lie? Why does he need to know the truth? It’s not like he’s my boyfriend. He’s just a guy. Just a counselor. Just the only man whose kisses make me dizzy.

A long sigh leaves my lips. This honesty thing is painful. “The guy who accused my dad of cheating was taken out back and beaten to a pulp. I didn’t see it, but I heard it. They played music, but it didn’t cover up his screams.”

“That’s horrible,” Hutch says.

“That’s my life,” I say coolly.

“That
was
your life. You’re giving yourself the chance to start over. I want to take you away from all of that and keep you safe.”

I’m about to say “I’m fine.” But now, more than ever, I accept that I’m not fine. I haven’t been in a long time.

“I don’t need saving,” I tell him. “That’s not your job.” I look around the courtyard. The sun is a perfect orange, sinking behind the mountains. No one is paying attention to us. If I start walking into the woods, would Hutch follow?

“Actually,” he says. “It is my job. You said so yourself at the creek.”

I groan and stare at the flames.

“River, look at me.”

My heart is going crazy in my chest. If I look at him, I know I’ll lose some of my nerve. He’s just got a stare that makes me weak, and weakness has never been an option for me.

I look at him nonetheless.

“Ransom and I spoke to Helen.”

“Is she giving me the boot?” My heart races at the thought that Helen might be kicking me out. I don’t want to be kicked out. I want to stay, and I don’t know if I want to do it for myself, or because I’m not ready to stop being near Hutch.

“Of course not.” He frowns, and I’m glad he’s just as surprised at the thought of me leaving. “Randy is going to stay with Steven’s group. Because the other counselors have more new patients on their plate, Helen thought it might be a good idea to… give you to me. I mean, to my group. We can give us another shot.”

“Give
us
another shot?”

He looks down at his lap and smiles. “You and me. Counselor and patient.”

I lean back on the lounge chair. My sandwich is probably stale by now. Either way, I’ve got no appetite. I’m going to be Hutch’s patient again. It is both thrilling and terrifying. I get to see him every day and listen to him speak. I also get to be on my best behavior, because all I want to do is jump on top of him and kiss every inch of his perfect face.

“The decision is yours. We want you to be comfortable.”

I nod. “You’re the one who didn’t want to take me back in the first place.”

“River…” He looks over his shoulder and takes my hand in his. My hand belongs in his, and his in mine. But I hate having to be on the lookout. “I did that because it was too hard to be near you. We spent one night together. One. And it was the best night of my life. This isn’t easy for me, watching you run around here and not be able to—not be able to hold you, or
feel
you. You don’t know what it does to me.”

“Yes I do.”

We’re quiet for a moment. The dying flames crackle beside us. The patients who were watching the sunset wave as they return to the main building—not that the sun has completely set. We’re the only ones left, which means we have to go back soon, too.

“So, River Thomas. Will I see you in group tomorrow?”

I’ll never be done with you,
he told me. I get it. There isn’t enough time.

“No,” I say. He looks as stricken as I feel.

“Look, I want you, Hutch. Maybe more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. But I realize I’m not okay. I don’t want you to see that part of me yet. I don’t want you to think less of me because of what I’ve done.”

“River, I would never. You have to know that. I can’t help but want to shield you from anything that’s bad.” He hooks my fingers with his.

I press my hand on his cheek. “Me too.”

He presses a kiss on my nose. I hope he’ll continue to kiss every part of my face, but he doesn’t. It’s so easy to forget where we are. I wonder if it’s too late to change my mind again.

“There’s one more thing. You and Randy both have to do some volunteer work.”

I scoff. “On top of the chores we already do?”

“You get to choose. One is a day at a soup kitchen in town. The other is visiting the children’s hospital wing to read them stories and things.”

“The children’s hospital.”

Hutch smiles, and stands up. He knows we have to get back inside, too. Even if we’re just talking, I feel like we’re being watched. Maybe that’s just the guilt of my dirty thoughts.

“Good,” he says. “The van leaves after breakfast. I should head home.”

He carries my tray, and holds the door for me to go back inside. The cafeteria is almost empty, with the exception of a few stragglers.

“Goodnight,” I whisper to him, then put as much distance between us as I possibly can. I brush my teeth and get into bed. I’m not hungry, but I do have a terrible ache in my belly.

I’m full of too much want
.
I know if I’m not careful, I’m going to slip up. As I jump into bed and get comfortable, I feel something under my pillow. It’s a tiny book of poetry. I don’t remember putting it there. I open the cover, revealing a square cutout in the center. Nestled between Walt Whitman’s words are three tiny blue pills.

Because of my neck brace, Vilma and Jermania allow me to sit in the front seat. Vilma puts on my seatbelt for me.

“Your shirt is on backwards,” she tells me.

I sigh. “You’re lucky I’m
wearing
a shirt.”

She snickers, and tries not to laugh at how much of a mess I am in the mornings. Hutch, on the other hand, gives me a look that makes me want to break apart at the seams. It’s part adoration and part pity. My hair could double as a bird’s nest, and in my haste not to be late, I’m pretty sure I left crud in my eyes. At least my breath is minty fresh. I can’t remember if I put on deodorant. I tell myself we’re going to be visiting children with actual problems, and petty things like hygiene should be the least of my worries.

“Everyone strapped in?” Hutch says, adjusting his rearview mirror.

“Yes, sir,” Jermania mutters. It’s the most I’ve heard her say.

“So, are you actually volunteering, or did you punch someone, like River?” Vilma asks Jermania.

I wish I could turn around to get a look at Jermania’s face.

Hutch says, “Vilma.”

“I’m just trying to make conversation, you know? It’s an
hour-long
drive to Zoo Town.”

“What about you, Vilma?” I ask, turning the question back on her. See how she likes it. “Are you actually volunteering?”

“You bet,” she says. “I’m not allowed to see my kids until the program is done, except on family day. I feel out of touch sometimes. Like what if I see them again, and I don’t know how to talk to anyone anymore? All I do is talk to crazy addicts and counselors. I feel like I’m losing my ability to be a mother.”

“I don’t think that’s something you lose,” Hutch says. Then we all stay quiet for a while.

This early in the morning, there are mostly just giant trucks on the road. I put my head back and watch the trees zoom by. Every now and then I feel Hutch’s gaze turn toward me. I wish we were alone. Granted, I’m not exactly in the right physical condition to be getting frisky, but I’d like to just be with him.

Gah, who
am
I?

A little under an hour later, we arrive at the hospital. Hutch parks, and we get visitor badges. I hate the way hospitals smell. I realize I maybe didn’t think this through. The last time I was in a hospital was to wait for my father to die. I picture him, weak and wrinkled. He’d aged a hundred years in the six months since his diagnosis. I start to breathe really fast. I turn around in place, like I’m doing some sort of bee ritual dance. Really, I’m trying to convince myself not to run out of here. This isn’t about me. I mean, it is, because I have to do something good in exchange for having hit Randy. But this is also about the kids that were promised a visit.

Hutch’s hand falls on my shoulder. I jerk back.

“It’s not you,” I blurt out. “Sorry. I just. I just get anxious and I don’t like being touched when I’m anxious.”

He nods, understanding. “What do you need me to do?”

I sigh. I wish he wasn’t so… giving. When you’re ready to give all of yourself, it makes it easier for others to take advantage of you. I don’t want to take advantage of Hutch, but I don’t want anyone else to do it either.

Listen to me, complaining for once that a guy is
too
good. Another first.

“I’ll be fine, I promise. I just didn’t think I’d have to come to one of these places for a long time. I didn’t really think about it until we walked in.”

He smiles, and his smile gives me a little bit of courage. He nods in the direction of the pediatric wing. Nurses and doctors walk in the opposite direction. Despite the tired look in their eyes, they still wave and greet us happily.

The room we enter is painted sky blue, with clouds and a rainbow of balloons. There are six beds lined up together. The kids are already awake and sitting up in their beds. Two of them are hooked to so many tubes they can’t go very far. Some of the others dangle their feet from the edges of the beds. They smile shyly. Some wave their arms over their heads, recognizing Hutch and Vilma.