“How’s therapy going?”
“It’s good.” I lift my arms and show her my tiny bit of muscle. Since I’ve started working out, I enjoy it. The draw to keep going is there, and I’ve asked Xander to find me a trainer in Chicago. Much to his and everyone else’s dismay, I plan to return to school for summer classes. Missing a full semester, plus finals, is going to set me back a year, and I don’t want that.
“Your uncle tells me you plan on trying to walk today?”
I nod happily. “I do. I’m tired of the chair. Being waited on is nice, but I’m an independent person and not having my freedom is really a blow to my ego.”
“Okay,” she says. “I’ve spoken to him about stabilization. You have a few options. We can transition from the chair to a cane until Xander clears you or we can go with the Rollator, which is the walker with the seat.”
I blanch. My dad coughs. And I swear my mother snickers in the corner. I give them the side-eye, letting them know I’m not very happy with their non-verbal comments. “I think I’ll stick with the chair until my uncle says I’m good.” There is no way in hell will I be caught pushing a walker down the street
. Imagine the looks I’d get. The tabloids would have a field day. They’re already insisting Kyle and I are dating, even though we’re clearly friend-zoning each other. And if it’s not about Kyle and I, I’m either a druggie, a dropout or pregnant. Each time a new headline comes out, I cringe at what it might be. Let me say, it’s been fun in my house lately.
I never bothered to tell my parents I invited Kyle over for Christmas so when he buzzed the gate, my dad was none too impressed to find it was the man who put me in the situation I’m in. They know he didn’t cause the accident, but he was there, which in my parents’ eyes means Kyle is guilty by association.
Christmas was awkward, at best. But as the day went, things got better. My mom was still hesitant around him, but I understood where she was coming from. Kyle and I both survived a very similar accident that took my father away from us – even for me, it’s hard to grasp. However, Kyle has been over more frequently to visit and has even gone surfing with my dad.
And as uncomfortable as it was when Noah showed up, Kyle was a trooper. He hasn’t fully come out to ask me about Noah. He’s hinted with random statements, which I’ve ignored. I’m not in a place where I can fully say what Noah is or was to me because life is too short to play the what-if game. What if… Noah chose me over Dessie? What if… I was never in the accident?
What if… what if… what if…
The list can go on forever, and you’ll never find the answer. I refuse to play the victim or be the one Noah seeks out because he’s gotten himself into a situation. I can’t be that person for him anymore, and I hate it. I hate that our friendship is over because of… well, everything. More so, I have so much animosity for his future wife, I refuse to go to their wedding. Of course, my entire family is making the trip, which means I will too, but I’m not leaving my house.
The tech comes in with his handy dandy saw, which I begged Kyle to find online so I could at least crack my cast open in order to scratch my leg. From our first luncheon, he told me he’d saw it off, but the jerk quickly changed his mind and gave me some spiel about healing and potential damage. I stuck my tongue out at him because being childish is the way to act when you don’t get your way.
“I want to caution you, Peyton. This will be different from when we took the cast off your arm.”
“I know. My leg is going to stink. There will be a lot of dead skin. And I have to be careful with how much itching I do.”
Dr. Colby smiles. “The nurse will come in and give you a scrub down before you leave, which will help alleviate the issues.”
“Perfect.”
I wiggle my freshly painted toes, thanks to my sister, as the tech nears my leg. The saw switches on, and suddenly my mom is by my side. She grips my hand as the blade touches down on the cast. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers into my ear. I lean my head against her and watch with apt attention as the tech slowly cuts open my cast. I already know what my leg will look like. There’s a nice scar running down the front of my shinbone, which matches the one on my chest and upper thigh. I joked, saying I was going to go as Frankenstein this year for Halloween, but the only one who found it funny was Quinn. He’s really the only one not treating me with kid gloves but has been an overly amazing brother.
As soon as the cast is pulled open, I quickly pull my shirt over my nose. My eyes water and I’m tempted to tell the tech to put it back. “God, I stink.”
“It’s to be expected,” Dr. Colby says.
My foot is lifted out and placed on the pillow. I stifle my laughter when a pool of sand falls out of the heel of my cast.
“Peyton, what is that?” Mom asks.
“Dunno.” I shrug.
“Unbelievable. Who let you play in the sand?”
Let’s see, Mom. Quinn. Dad. Kyle. “I think it’s probably from the wind.” There isn’t any reason to tell her Kyle gave me piggyback rides while I tried to fly a kite. Or Quinn and I built a sand castle one day and I had to beg him to set me on the edge of the tub so I could remove all the sand from my shorts. And there’s my dad who covered my arm and leg and took me out on his surfboard so I could feel human again.
“Definitely the wind. I mean we do live on the beach,” I point out. She seems to agree. I chance a look at my dad who is in the corner. He winks; reminding me our secret is safe. Truthfully, my dad would never do anything to upset my mom. I can’t recall a time when they’ve ever fought, and if they have it was never in front of us. But, that doesn’t mean he won’t do what we ask, even if it means upsetting her if she were to find out. Taking me out on the surfboard was one of those times.
It’s five in the morning and I can’t sleep. Elle and Quinn are back at school, leaving me to fend for myself which equates to having mom bug me every two minutes to see if I’m okay. I don’t know if I ever will be, but I’m surviving. Behind me, the sliding door, or more fittingly named “the wall of windows,” opens and my dad steps out. I can tell by his breathing and his cologne it’s him.
“It’s early, sweet pea.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
He pulls a patio chair close to me and sits down. Like me, he’s staring out into the surf. Out there, it’s where he loves to be. Every day, unless he’s on tour, you’ll find my dad in the water and normally my mom sitting in the sand watching him. I want a love like theirs. The all-consuming-never-wavering type of love.