Lex

Adam’s absence wasn’t lengthy, but the effect our separation had on me was profound. During his abduction, I learned that he was much more than a person of interest to me. He was the man I was falling in love with.

I drove him home from the hospital, and as soon as the car came to a stop in the driveway, he hobbled toward the garage. As I gathered all his paperwork, prescriptions, and get well soon cards, he opened the door and got on his motorcycle.

I set everything aside, walked to the garage, and pressed my hands to my hips. “I really don’t think--”

“Look at that.” He nodded toward his foot. “It’s ugly, but it works.”

His foot, which was covered in a purple cast, rested on the right footrest of his motorcycle. It looked ridiculous, and I was sure he couldn’t ride with the obnoxious thing dangling off the side of his motorcycle.

I chuckled. “You can’t ride with that thing.”

“It’s my right foot. All I have to do is stomp the brake with it. If it was my left, I’d be fucked.” He looked at it, and then gave a prideful nod. “Shit, this’ll work just fine.”

His foot was the least of his worries. All things considered, it was the most presentable element of proof of his torture.

The left side of his head had a stitched gash that was four inches long, and his forehead and face were covered in nasty looking lacerations. Both eyes were surrounded by multicolored bruises, and his arms were covered in sores from cigarette burns.

The portions that were concealed were just as bad, if not worse. His thigh had two large spots on it that were going to need skin grafts after they healed, and he was missing five teeth. Dental implants weren’t scheduled for months, and although he didn’t have a difficult time talking, I was sure eating wasn’t pleasurable.

Complaining, however, wasn’t something he played a part in.

He was a biker through and through, there was no doubt about it.

“What do you really need to ride for, anyway? I think you should rest for a week or so. You’ve been through a lot.”

He lifted his cast over the seat, steadied himself on it, and looked at me like I was crazy. “I’ve got work to do. Can’t get a house bought without hard work.”

The dream of buying a home fueled his devotion, and I liked that about him. “How long have you been saving?” I asked.

“Seven years. I’m more than halfway there. If I get a few more homes in La Jolla, I could be there in two.” He limped past me and gazed across the street. “I’m ready to get the fuck out of this shitty neighborhood.”

In the confusion, I’d forgotten about his commitments to work, and about La Jolla. I felt bad for not reminding him to call them and explain his situation.

“Did you call him and tell him what happened?” I asked. “Your guy in La Jolla?”

He glanced over his shoulder and nodded. “Yeah. I need to go see him and check on the job, though.”

“You’re not going to slow down one bit, are you?”

“The clock keeps ticking whether I’m out there, or in some hospital bed. Can’t let life pass me up.”

“You’re just…” I shook my head and stepped to his side. “It’s easy to admire you.”

“Admire me? Shit. I’m just a man trying to save a little money.”

He took a long breath through his nose, held it for a few seconds, and then exhaled through his mouth.

“Kind of hard to believe all those things actually happened,” he said, still staring across the street. “Then, I move wrong and my leg reminds me it was real.”

He had cut the lower leg of one side of his jeans, allowing him to wear them, against the doctor’s orders, of course.

“The doctor told you to wear shorts. And, I really wish you’d take the pain pills he gave you.”

“I’ll take ‘em if I need ‘em,” he said.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

He nodded. “Hurts like a motherfucker, but not enough for me to take a pill to try and fix it. I’m fine for now. And I ain’t wearing fucking shorts.”

“Want to go inside for a while?”

He tilted his head back and stared up at the sky. “Nope.”

“Sit on the porch, maybe? Take some weight off your foot?”

Still gazing up at the blue sky, he grinned. “Nope.”

I pushed my hands into my pockets and sighed. “What do you want to do?”

His head slowly turned from side to side as if he was taking every micron of the atmosphere into view. Then, he tugged against the bill of his hat, and turned toward me. His eyes were glassy and wet.

“I uhhm. When they were uhhm. They had. He had a hammer, and he was going to smash my toes with it. I can’t. I can’t even tell you what I was thinking. But he. I mean, at that time, I’d already been there two days. He uhhm.”

He pursed his lips, gazed down at his feet, and made a motion with his hand as if he were swinging a hammer. The reenactment seemed to resurrect memories, and it appeared they were draining the life from him right then and there.

So far, his discussions about the events had been laced with laughter. The stories he told in the hospital were loud, bold, and emotionless.

Seeing him try to talk seriously about what happened was ripping my heart out.

He looked up, but didn’t speak.

I draped my arm over his shoulder and nestled against him.

“After he smashed the second one. I kind of gave up. I was done, Alexandra. They uhhm. They broke my spirit.”

His gaze fell to the driveway and he reached for his hat. He rubbed the brim between his thumb and forefinger, let out a sigh, and then continued.

“I kind of made amends with God. Or something. We had a talk, anyway.”

He looked at me with worried eyes. “I’m falling in love with you, and if that’s not what you want or what you’re looking for, I’ll understand. I really like you, and if you don’t want to give it a try, I’ll respect that. I won’t like it, but I’ll--”

“I’m falling in love with you, too,” I said. “Now, please stop talking, and kiss me.”