I shouldn’t have said that. I mean, it’s a little too personal and nice. I’m supposed to hate him, right?
But I just thought… I had the right to say it.
And I’m not taking it back.
“Please,” I say, crouched on my hands and knees, peeking down at him, with sweaty hair curtained around my flushed face.
His dark eyes don’t give anything away but he jerks out a nod. Then he looks down and lets go of his purchase.
I suck in a breath when he lands on the ground, by Art’s feet. It was smooth and effortless.
He kneels beside Art and my voice breaks as I ask, “Is he okay?”
Zach picks Art up in his arms. That’s effortless, too. And smooth and gentle as he cradles his head.
I couldn’t stop crying, even if I wanted to; I don’t want to.
I don’t want to stop crying because everything is swollen inside of me, raw and shaken up. And Zach’s entire hand covers Art’s head as he probably looks for an injury. He pats Art’s head slowly, almost like a caress and I have to dig my nails into the ground to keep steady.
Still staring at Art with a careful frown, Zach says, “He’s fine. He’s got a bump on the back of his head. But he’s gonna be okay.”
I press a fist on my mouth to stop all the sobs from coming out.
“Are y-you okay?” I ask, and the way Zach’s head jerks up makes me believe that it was the wrong thing to say.
Fuck it.
I’m not afraid of him. What am I right now is super emotional and almost unhinged. I don’t care if my concern is such a suffering to him.
Zach’s answer is a black frown and silence.
Soon, Tina’s back with the rope and she’s brought a couple other staff members, including Ryan, with her.
“Where’s Zach?” she asks as she stops beside me.
“Down there.”
Ryan kneels on my other side, concern evident on his face. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
In a terse tone, Zach instructs Ryan and the others to throw him the rope and explains what to do. Five minutes later, he’s out and Art’s in my arms.
“Oh, Art, I’m so so sorry.” I hug him, smelling his hair, kissing his forehead.
I feel the bump on the back of his head and realize that he needs a doctor. I’ve been so focused on him getting out, I haven’t even wondered how long he was in there.
“We need to go to the hospital,” I tell the group huddled beside me.
“Yeah, I’ll get the car ready, let’s go,” Ryan says, getting up on his feet.
“Someone needs to tell Doris,” one of the staff members says.
Cradling Art, I manage to stand, as well.
Doris. Yup. Someone needs to tell her how badly I fucked up when I was supposed to watch her grandkid.
And let’s not forget the car.
Tina goes to say something, probably about my one-year-old phobia of cars, but I shake my head once to tell her to shut up.
I can handle it.
Car’s the perfect solution. How else would we get there? Bus isn’t an option. It’ll take way longer to get there and Art needs the medical attention now.
Ryan cradles my cheek in that gentle way of his. “Hey, everything is going to be fine. It wasn’t your fault. These things happen. Art’s going to be fine.”
I squeeze Art’s shoulders, smooshing him to my chest, and nod. “Yeah, okay, thanks. Let’s –”
“I’ve called the doctor. He’ll be here in a few.” Zach’s voice breaks through my panicky thoughts.
He’s standing away from the group and I watch his eyes as they look at where Ryan is touching me. “No need to go anywhere.” Then he orders a staff member, “And get someone to close up that hole.”
With that, he turns away, leaving.
There are leaves clinging to his jeans, his boots, mud caked on the sleeves of his shirt, even his elbows and arms.
He’s retreating, going away, after saving Art and even me. With Art in my arms, heavy and unconscious, I go after him.
“Wait. Zach.”
He comes to a pause but doesn’t turn around. I keep going until I come to stand before him. Somehow, he got a little dirt on the side of his jaw, too. I have a very strong, potent urge to reach up and wipe it off.
“What?” he bites out.
“I… How did you know about the hole? How did you know Art could be down there?”
The sun doesn’t move and neither does the air. It’s all still and hot but oddly, Zach’s face, his entire body turns shadowed.
Darkness slashes his features, his demeanor, like last night when he sat in that chair of his, with the entire galaxy at his back.
“Zach –”
His gruff words cut me off. “Because I’ve been down there.”
At first I think I haven’t heard him clearly. But when the rigid look of his face doesn’t go away, I realize that I have.