18
Andi
Monday
Afew days after the world exploded at my fake announcement about my fake engagement using my fake ring, I find myself sitting in a waiting room while Riley nervously bounces his knee and squeezes my hand so tight, my fingers start to turn white from blood loss.
He’s nervous.
He’s terrified, because today marks something new. Something unknown. Something that makes him vulnerable.
And Riley Cruz doesn’t handle vulnerability very well.
“Hey.” I place my spare hand on his knee and press down until he comes back to Earth. “It’s gonna be okay. They’re not going to hurt you today.”
“What do you think they’re gonna do?”
“Papier-Mache; I promise. They’re going to check your leg to make sure the swelling is coming down.” I give him a brave smile and another squeeze of the hand. “Which it is. They’ll ask you about your lifestyle; you like to be active, so they need to know that so they can recommend the right prosthesis. And they’re going to create a cast of your leg, which is how they create the sockets and stuff that’ll make up your new leg.”
“Officer Cruz?” A thirty-something man in a white coat and a clipboard stops at the doorway and waits for us to look up. “Please come through.”
“I wish they didn’t call me officer,” Riley grumbles. Standing and pulling his crutches under his arms, he doesn’t push me away like he used to. Instead, its almost like now he’s allowing me to be theonlyperson on the inside. He’s still grumpy and mean to most who ask about his leg, but with me, there’s no more fear. I’m allowed to look, I’m allowed to touch, and I’m the one he asks questions when he’s uncertain and scared to voice his concerns to anyone else. “I’m not a cop anymore, Dee. I don’t wanna be called officer.”
“Okay. You don’t have to be called anything you don’t wanna… except smoochie-poo. I’m partial to that one.” I walk slowly beside him and make our way along the hall. Stepping into a room not so different to the one I had in Mia’s clinic back home, I walk a little faster and lean over the technician’s desk. Riley busily works his way into a chair, but Lincoln – according to his name tag – watches me close as I snatch up a red pen and crossofficerout.
Three times.
I writeMrabove the scribbles and meet his eyes with a lift of my brows. No words need to be spoken, just a nod, then he accepts his pen back.
“Okay, Mr. Cruz.” I walk to the chair beside Riley’s while the technician sits on a rolling stool and moves closer. “My name is Linc, and I’m a prosthetics technician.” He offers a hand and waits for Riley to take it. “I know this is all new to you, but I’m here to make this as easy as possible. I have an extensive education on prosthetics and physical therapy, I sit on many boards where we discuss technological advancement, and I teach classes at the nearby university.”
“You think that impresses me?” Riley’s dark eyes force Linc back. “You think I wanna know about the six billion other responsibilities you have? Because your boasting actually leads me to believe you’re too busy for me, so maybe I should go someplace else that’ll pay attention and not make my leg worse.”
“I was only trying to show you I’m qualified and educated.”
“Riley.” I squeeze his hand as hard as I can. “Cool it. Let him help you.”
Just as I promised in the waiting room, we discuss activity level, what Riley expects to get out of a new leg – will he sit at home all day and knit, or will he go back to running marathons? – and we discuss the differences between a temporary leg; a leg he’ll use for the first few months while the swelling completely goes down, and his permanent leg; which will be a much better fit, lighter, and all around more comfortable.
Linc brings out the plaster and works on making Riley’s cast, making this the first time I’ve ever seen a professional work on his leg. Riley hates this, he hates every single second that someone touches him. He hates the way Linc moves in impossibly close and studies the still healing incision, he hates how Linc moves his leg around, comfortable with the process, but making Riley self-conscious.
But for the first time since this all began, instead of pushing me away, Riley clutches to me, his eyes beg for me not to leave him now. The hand in mine shakes, and his light eyes almost water with embarrassment. He hardly looks as the technician works, instead, he stares at the ceiling or me.
“Hey.” Sitting taller, I pucker my lips and wait for him to oblige. “Do you think Nacho’s being good for Livi?”
Robotically, he drops his kiss and goes back to staring at the ceiling. “I hope she takes a shit on Oz’s bed. I hope she does something really awful and teaches him a lesson.”
“She wouldn’t do that.” In a sign of solidarity, I sit back in my chair and stare at the ceiling, too. Linc wanted to chit-chat, but he gave up after everything he said was being met with silence. “Nacho’s a good girl; she uses the litter box.”
“She’s a pain in my ass. You think I didn’t notice my phone cord chewed to shit?”
I bite my lips closed. I actuallydidthink we got away with that.
“Or my pillow case? What about the spatulas? I used to own a bunch of them, but now I can only find one, and the handle has teeth marks in it.”
“Well…”
“She chewed my TV remote, Dee. The towel that hangs in the guest bathroom.” He thrusts his crutch toward me and almost knocks Linc out on the way. “She chewed my crutches,whileI was using them!”