“Thanks for lunch.” I flip the tab on the seltzer and take a large bite of the quiche.
Her takeout meals have been a real saving grace. If I’d been stuck eating hospital food, I’d have lost ten pounds.
“Sure.” Lindsey grins and sucks in her breath, preparing to share something unpleasant, I’m sure. “So, don’t get all weird on me, but I went into your bedroom and brought you a fresh change of clothes. It seemed like sweats would create the least friction against your incision.”
She begins unpacking my underwear and clothes from the duffel bag. Good God, she went through my underwear? I bet she messed up my drawers, too.
“Do you need help getting dressed, or can you do it yourself?” She smiles, completely unfazed by my discomfort. I think she uses that smile as a shield, or maybe as a weapon. “Remember, you shouldn’t bend.”
“Hell, Lindsey, I can put on my own pants.” I groan, partly mortified, and partly affronted by the invasion of privacy.
“Only trying to help.” She holds her hands up as if she’s being arrested and rolls her eyes. “Fine, try it yourself. I’ll step outside the room.”
Once she’s in the hallway, I sit up. With enormous effort, I swing my legs over the side of the bed. While wrestling with the underwear first, trying to swing it down and catch it with my toes, pain shoots through my back and legs. I bite through my discomfort because there’s no way she’s helping me when I’m naked. Somehow I manage to get it on without really bending.
After a meager victory with the Calvin Kleins, I admit defeat and call her back in to help with the rest. To her credit, she returns without saying “I told you so,” but her grin tells me she’s enjoying her power trip.
Agitated by my ineptitude, I hold the socks up. “Couldn’t bring flip-flops?”
“You might drag your feet and trip over flip-flops, Levi. I can’t lift you by myself if you end up on your ass.” She cocks her head, ready for any challenge, so I say nothing.
Removing the socks from my hand, she kneels down to put them on me the way one might help a small child. Next, she helps me strap the back brace on. Finally, she grabs the sweats, bunches each leg up at the heel, and pulls them up over my knees like those girly tights.
Although she’s being careful not to be too touchy, her fingers brush against my feet and legs while she works. I admit, the intimacy’s arousing and unsettling. I’ve got to define the boundaries. Lord knows what latitude she’ll take if I ever lower my guard.
Within the hour, we’re driving home in her ragtop with the wind whipping through our hair. Thankfully, she brought a couple of pillows to help support my body. Fresh air and a view of the ocean—heaven. After being cooped up for so many days, I don’t even complain about the jarring pain in my back when we hit bumps in the road.
I’ve missed home. When we arrive, Lindsey comes around to the passenger side to heave me up and out of the reclined car seat.
“Can you manage the steps by yourself, or should I take these things inside first and come back for you?”
“I can manage, Lindsey. I’m not paralyzed.”
“Okay, Oscar the Grouch. Why are you so unwilling to accept my help?” She shakes her head and moves away, clearly intending her question to be rhetorical. “You should be more gracious.”
Without complaining further, she follows behind me for the agonizing minutes it takes to climb the half flight of steps to reach the main living area.
“Remember, the doctor said only take the stairs once a day for a couple of weeks. So, rest here on the sofa this afternoon. Once you’re upstairs, you’ll be stuck there.”
Man, she’s as high-handed as ever. But after the brief experience of the half flight, I know I won’t be going up and down the steps too often anyway. I glance at the split cushions of the sofa and wonder whether I can comfortably lie on them all day. I’d never admit it, but maybe Lindsey’s hospital bed idea wasn’t bad. I dread lowering my body onto the sofa. As if reading my mind, she holds out her arm to ease me down.
Once I’m settled, she repositions the coffee table so I can access my laptop and the remote. She exits the room and returns with several bed pillows and a blanket. As she props me up and tucks another pillow under my knees, I’m touched by her bigheartedness, and reach for her hand.
“Thanks. Sorry for being grumpy.” I mean it, but I can’t look her squarely in the eye. “I appreciate all your help.”
The outer corners of her large eyes crinkle with her smile. She slaps her hands to her cheeks and opens her mouth into an O. “Oh my. Being nice didn’t kill you!” She snickers at her little joke, then says, “You’re welcome.”