“Good morning, Levi.”
Lindsey’s voice wakes me from my nap. My brain’s muddled, but I recognize her eyes even though her face and hair are hidden. Unfortunately, my dismal mood and clammy skin override any enthusiasm I feel for her arrival.
“Is it? Doesn’t seem too good to me.” She’s not the reason for my bad humor, but she’s here and I need to unload. Her brows shoot upward and I watch her hands find their way to her hips. Oh boy, here we go. “Don’t light into me, Lindsey. I’m sorry I barked at you. Give me a break, would you? It’s been a shitty morning.”
Her eyes soften and she launches into a barrage of questions. “How’s your temperature? Has the rash improved? Is the vancomycin working? What did the doctor say?”
She sits at the edge of my bed, taking a break from her rapid-fire questions, and rests her hand on my arm. Instinctively I flinch, but then relax and allow myself to enjoy the pleasure of her tenderly stroking my forearm.
“You look a little better than last night.” Her voice cracks. “You scared me yesterday.”
“Doc says the meds are working.” I shrug. “Apparently my fever’s dropping. But he’s going back into my spine to clean the screws and check the graft for infection.”
Lindsey’s eyes fly open.
“Yeah, another surgery. Trust me, I’m not happy.” I place my hand over hers. The tenderness shocks me, so I withdraw it and tuck it behind my head. “So, what happened yesterday? How’d I end up back here?”
“You don’t remember anything about yesterday . . . or last night?” Lindsey’s eyeing me like she’s hoping for a specific memory to surface. Well, she’ll be waiting a long time, because yesterday’s a blank slate.
“Not really. I’d been sleepy, so I stayed in bed. I don’t remember much more. You must’ve found me and brought me here.”
“Not exactly. You’d been sleeping all day. When I returned in the early evening, I came to your room and noticed the rash and fever. It was really scary, Levi. You’ve no idea. You were incoherent.” Her stricken expression oddly elevates my mood.
She cares about me. I can hardly believe it.
I refocus on her words while she continues her story.
“I couldn’t move you, so I called the ambulance. They’d only let me see you briefly before they sent me home.”
Lindsey’s eyes start to water. More evidence of her genuine concern for my welfare. Warmth spreads through me, erasing much of my anxiety.
“Ah, boy, tears?” I lay my hand on top of hers, which is still gripping my forearm. “Come on, no cryin’.”
“I thought you might die.” She wipes her widened, red-rimmed eyes with her free hand. “The rash spread so quickly and your temperature shot up to brain-damage range.”
“Don’t tell me you’d miss me if I died? I’d assumed you’d be happy to be rid of me, since I’m so grouchy and particular and all.” My joke elicits a gentle slap from her, but no smile.
“That’s bad form, Levi. Not the least bit funny. Last night was awful.”
I must agree. “Well, there’s nothing funny about needing another surgery, either. Another chance for a mistake that might leave me paralyzed.”
Immediately regretting vocalizing my concern, I look away to keep her from seeing my fears. When I face her, she laces her fingers with mine. The startling intimacy causes my breath to catch. I stare at our hands, fighting the panic urging me to yank free.
“Levi, I’m so sorry. I feel responsible because I didn’t catch the signs sooner. I’m sure the surgery will be fine, just like last time. The infection’s the more dangerous problem, but it sounds like they’re getting it under control.”
Not sure if she’s trying to convince herself or me, but I shrug because what else can she or I say? She’s never withstood a serious threat of paralysis. For me, it might be worse than dying. I doubt I could live the rest of my life needing help. Plus, no more bike, no surfing, and what about sex? Life without sex, well, that’s simply too awful to consider.
Holding Lindsey’s hand in mine, I know, if she weren’t my neighbor, I’d want her in my bed—more than once. I won’t seduce her, but it sucks thinking I could end up paralyzed and unable to do so if I changed my mind.
I close my eyes to focus on something else.
She slips her hand from mine. “I brought you some things to keep you occupied these next few days.”
Opening her bag, she retrieves my computer, some headphones, my robe, a smoothie, and a new book. I’m humbled by her thoughtfulness over and over again. She takes damn good care of me.