Chapter 27

PRESENT DAY

 

Years ago, Noah tried to show me how to fillet a fish, but I couldn’t watch. He teased me about it for days, but then agreed from then on, he’d fillet any fish he caught. At the time, we thought we’d be sharing many fish together. But it didn’t work out that way.

Noah fillets the fish he caught today and cooks them up for dinner. Lily eats up every bite, having regained much or all of her hero worship. But I notice that Noah waits until I’m getting Lily in bed at eight o’clock to take off his prosthetics.

After Lily is asleep, I decide to make myself useful by cleaning up the kitchen. I figure the least I can do to pay for a free week in the country is to wash some dishes. I’ve finished the last of them when Noah wheels into the kitchen. “You don’t have to do that,” he says to me.

I turn around, wiping my hands on my jeans. “Too late.”

This is the first time I’ve seen Noah sitting in his wheelchair in the light of day. It’s very different from the one he’d been sitting in that day I broke his heart in his mother’s apartment. It’s a narrow, sporty-looking chair with a low backrest and the wheels tilted out at the base. He’s put on a pair of shorts and folded the ends over his stumps. He rubs his right leg and winces.

“You okay?” I ask as I settle into a seat at the kitchen table.

He nods. “Yeah. My right limb is… not great. It’s all that hardware and shit they put in it before they did the amputation. Phantom pain, muscle pain, bone pain—I’ve got it all. I wish they had just taken it off to begin with—I would have been better off.”

“I guess.” Losing both his legs at once would have been a lot to handle.

“The truth is,” he says, “even nine or ten hours on the prosthetics is sometimes more than I can handle. Around my apartment, I only use my chair. And I probably do about a quarter of my ER shifts in my chair.” He grins. “You should see the look on the patients’ faces. Especially the ones who are already drugged out of their minds.”

“I’ll bet.” I watch him rub his right leg again. “You need something for that? Ice?”

He hesitates. “That would be great, actually. There’s an ice pack in the freezer.”

He’s got one of those blue gel ice packs in the freezer. I pull it out and he rests it on the end of his leg. He lets out a sigh. “Okay.”

“You shouldn’t wear your prosthetics for Lily’s sake,” I say. “She’s okay with whatever. I mean, she’s a kid. They can adjust to anything.”

“It’s not entirely for Lily.”

His eyes meet mine and I have to look away.

“Well, whatever the reason,” I say. “You should do what’s comfortable for you.”

Noah leans back in his wheelchair. “Okay, good to know.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “Ice cream?”

I laugh and grab what’s left of the Neapolitan ice cream from the freezer. We don’t bother with bowls this time and just eat directly from the container. Noah asks me questions about my job as a social worker and I tell him some of the more interesting stories. I leave out one of the most intense stories I’ve had in the last year, about the double-amputee client I had who didn’t open the door to the house when I knocked, so I circled his house until I found an open window, climbed inside, and discovered the man passed out in his bedroom, toxic from being in kidney failure. I got him to the hospital and he survived, but it was definitely above the call of duty for me—I just had a really bad feeling that something was wrong.

But that guy was old and sick. He’d lost both his legs because of diabetes and he was barely able to take care of himself. I did the best I could to get him home but he didn’t have family and ended up in a nursing home.

But I stick to the funny stories, like about the Jamaica client I have who always pulls me into her apartment to serve me a feast when I come to visit. And Noah tells me stories about some of the patients he’s had in the emergency room that have me cracking up.

“So it was Christmas Eve,” Noah is telling me, “and I’m thinking it’s going to be a super quiet shift. I actually went to the call room and got to lie down for twenty minutes before getting paged back to the ER. It’s this twenty-year-old girl who came in with her boyfriend with the chief complaint of rectal itch. At eleven o’clock on Christmas Eve, she came to the ER for rectal itch. I asked her how long it was going on and she tells me six months. I was like, you’ve got to be kidding. I was sure there had to be something else going on, like they stuck something inside her during sex that they couldn’t get out, and didn’t want to admit it because they were embarrassed.”

I giggle. “Does that happen a lot?”

He nods. “Oh yeah. All the time.”

“Like what sorts of things do they stick up there?” I ask.

“Honestly, it’s usually a pencil,” he says. “Then a piece of it breaks off and they can’t get it out. The worst was a light bulb that broke. That was a mess.”

I cringe at the idea of a broken light bulb inside my nether regions.

“But this girl was legit,” he says. “It turned out she really was just there for a chronic rectal itch. On Christmas Eve!”

I cover my mouth to suppress a laugh because I don’t want to wake Lily. I’m mid-laugh when Gwen and my father pass by the kitchen, both of them looking incredibly amused. “We’re going to turn in,” Gwen says to us, “just wanted to let you know.”

“Oh!” I look down at my watch and realize that somehow two hours have flown by. That always seemed to happen when I was talking to Noah. “Um, well, goodnight.”

I watch them walk down the hall to their bedroom. Noah leans in and murmurs, “I’m trying not to think about what’s going on in there.”

“I know,” I groan. “I’m happy they’ve found each other, but… it’s my dad. I just don’t want to picture it.”

“It’s probably worse for them to picture us having sex,” he points out.

For a moment, I try to wrap my head around the idea that Lily will have sex someday. I can’t do it. I’m not even going to try. It’s just not going to happen.

Noah looks down at the empty ice cream carton between us. “Hmm, looks like I’m going to have to buy more ice cream.”

“Oh God.” I shake my head. “That was pretty full, wasn’t it?”

“That’s okay,” he says. “You can afford it. You look like you’ve dropped fifteen pounds since college. Don’t they still have food in Queens?”

“I’ve been busy and poor. More of the latter than the former.”

Although it isn’t entirely funds that’s stifled my appetite lately. After all, I’ve always managed to feed Lily well on a budget. It’s more like… my life is so far from what I wanted it to be at this point. It’s always on my mind. And I’m the sort of person who stops eating when I’m depressed.

There’s a pounding at the front door that makes both of us jump. Noah looks down at his watch. “It’s almost eleven o’clock. Who the hell is that?”

“Bailey!” I hear a voice yelling from the other side of the door. “Open up, Bailey!”

Shit, it’s Theo. Drunk.

“Don’t open the door,” Noah says. “I’m going to call the police.”

“No, please don’t,” I say. “He does this sometimes, but… he’s harmless. I don’t want him to get arrested because of me.”

Noah stares at me. “You let him get away with this shit?”

“Look, I’ll just…” I stand up from the table. “I’ll get rid of him. It’s fine. Just don’t provoke him and he’ll go away.”

“Bailey!” Noah yells as I stride over to the front door. But he doesn’t know Theo. I do. He needs to be soothed and then he’ll go away. He’s never been physically violent with me—he’s never hit me. He’s not that kind of person.

I throw open the front door and Theo is standing there, his long hair and clothing disheveled. He smells like beer. Obviously he’s been drinking and it occurs to me now that he must have driven here drunk. The thought of it makes my stomach turn.

“Bailey.” He sways in my direction, and I take a step back. “We need to talk.”

“We can talk tomorrow,” I say calmly. “When you haven’t been drinking.”

“All I had is two beers,” Theo says. Ha.

“I told you,” I say. “Go get a hotel and sleep it off, and we’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll call a cab.”

I try to lead him out to the patio, but he won’t budge. “I want to talk to you now,” he insists. He takes a deep breath. “Bailey, this whole thing is fucked up. You going off to Maryland without me. Fucking some loser jock. This isn’t right.”

“Okay.” I’m still trying to keep my calm. At least Theo isn’t shouting. “I promise you, we’ll talk about all that tomorrow.”

Theo is swaying at the door, but he’s still not budging. I wrack my brain, trying to think what I can do to get him out of here when Noah wheels up to us, his blue eyes full of rage. “Listen, buddy,” he says. “Bailey’s asking you nicely to go. You need to leave.”

Theo looks down at Noah. I can see his drunken brain trying to process that the fit young guy he saw earlier is now sitting in a wheelchair. He takes in Noah’s lack of legs, his eyes slowly widening.

“Holy shit,” Theo says. “You’re that asshole from earlier who’s sleeping with my wife.” He looks up at me. “Bailey, you’re really fucking him?”

“I’m not fucking anyone,” I say, which is the painful truth. “His mother is marrying my father, and that’s why I’ve been staying here this week. So we can all get to know each other.”

“Jesus Christ…” Theo looks between the two of us for a moment, then bursts out laughing. “Oh man, I really thought that you were fucking a guy with no legs, Bailey. I was out of my mind with jealousy… over him.”

I can see Noah’s eyes darken, but he backs away from us and doesn’t say a word. I’m itching to defend Noah, but there’s no point. Theo is drunk. I can’t talk to him when he’s like this. The best thing to do is get him in a cab and send him to a cheap motel to spend the night.

“Now that we’ve got that sorted out,” I say, “I’m going to call you that cab.”

At first it seems like he might go willingly, but then Theo shakes his head. “No, Bailey. Look, this whole thing has made me realize I still have feelings for you. I’m not ready for our marriage to be over.”

“Our marriage is over,” I point out. “We’re divorced.”

Theo reaches out to take my hand, but I pull away. “Come on, Bailey. I know you still have feelings for me too. And we’ve got Lily to think about.”

He must be drunker than I thought if he really thinks I’d consider taking him back after all the shit he put me through. This is just what I want—a husband who can’t pay the bills, who gets drunk every weekend, who drives drunk, who leaves me hanging on a moment’s notice. There was a time when I might have forgiven Theo, when I might have believed he could reform, but not now. It’s far too late.

“I’m sorry, Theo,” I say. “I really need you to leave.”

This is the time when Theo usually takes off to find another girl he can hook up with, but right now, he isn’t budging. Maybe because out here, he doesn’t have his usual list of ladies lined up to take my place. Or maybe he really has had a change of heart about us. Either way, I want him out of here.

“Bailey…” He tries to take my hand again, but when I pull away, he grabs my arm instead. “Please, let’s just talk about this.”

I try to shrug him off, but he’s got a death grip. Noah’s been quiet in the background, letting me deal with this, but when he sees Theo touching me, he wheels right up to us. He keeps his fists on his wheels.

“You need to let go of her right now,” Noah growls. “And then get off my property.”

Theo blinks at Noah as if he’d forgotten he was there. “Excuse me, but this is my wife, and I’ll do whatever I want.”

“Ex-wife,” I correct him as I successfully twist my arm out of his grasp.

Noah wheels closer, right up to Theo. “Get out. Now.”

My heart is thudding in my chest. I can’t believe this is happening. I’m sure if Theo were sober or Noah had his prosthetics on, Theo would be doing the logical thing and making himself scarce. But he’s still not budging.

“Fuck off,” Theo spits at Noah. “This is none of your business, man.”

“It’s happening in my house, so it’s my business,” Noah retorts.

“Don’t make me hit a guy in a wheelchair,” Theo says. “Because you’re being an asshole right now.”

Noah snorts. “Yeah, like you’d have any chance of taking me down.”

I’ve never seen Theo throw a punch before, but there have been a couple of times he’s come home bruised and bloody after a fight broke out at a bar. Somewhere he’d been playing a set or maybe somewhere he’d been hanging out. I never saw the other guy, but Theo always looked bad. I got the sense he wasn’t excited about starting fights.

But he must have had more to drink than I thought, because Theo’s fist flies through the air, aimed at Noah. Noah doesn’t seem the least bit surprised, and he’s ready for it. He catches Theo’s fist easily in his left hand, pulls him forward, and buries his fist in Theo’s gut. Theo doubles over, gasping for air. I remember Noah hit that guy Derek the same way, but it looks like he hit Theo a lot harder. Theo actually crumbles to the ground, clutching his belly.

“If you get out of here now,” Noah says, “I’ll spare you the humiliation of getting your ass kicked in front of Bailey.”

Theo looks up at Noah with watery eyes. He looks back at me, as if in appeal, but I just shake my head. I watch as he literally crawls back out the front door. He limps out to his car and climbs inside, and that’s when Noah slams the front door shut.

“I’m calling the cops,” he says. “He’s drunk and I don’t want him driving around here.”

There’s no point in pleading Theo’s case. I don’t want Theo driving around drunk either.

Noah makes the call while I go sit on the sofa, trying to process what just happened. My hands won’t stop shaking. I look at my arm where Theo was grabbing me, and I could see red marks he left behind.

“I wanted to fucking kill him.” Noah wheels up in front of me. I can still see the anger in his eyes. “It took a lot of self-restraint to let him walk out of here.”

I lift my own eyes to look at Noah. “Thanks for helping me.”

“No problem,” he says. “I always do, don’t I?”

We stare at each other. It’s like the moment earlier today in the water, but now we’re alone, with nobody watching us. I’m not sure who leans forward first, but a second later, my lips are pressed against Noah’s, and his arms are around me pulling me closer to him. It’s been ten years since I kissed Noah Walsh, but it almost feels like not even a day has passed. It’s like coming home.

“I missed you so much,” I whisper when we separate briefly for air.

Noah doesn’t say he missed me too. He just kisses me again, which is also nice. In the ten years since we broke up, I’ve never met a guy who could kiss like Noah. Not even Theo could compare.

“Hang on,” Noah says as we separate again. “Let me get on the couch.”

He puts his fist on the couch, and transfers his body over in one quick movement. He smooths out his shorts over his stumps then we go back to kissing again. My fingers slide under his T-shirt, feeling the smooth skin on his back, and I can feel him fumbling with the hook on my bra. This is getting steamy really fast.

As Noah shifts, I feel the stump of his leg poke me in my own leg. It startles me, and I pull away from him. I look down at his leg that just poked me.

“What’s wrong?” he says.

“Nothing,” I say quickly.

But he figures out what just happened. He looks down at the remains of his legs, then back up at my face. “You don’t have to do this, Bailey. I know you’re grateful but…”

“I want to do this,” I say. I try to take his hand in mine, but he pulls away.

“We both know how you really feel,” he reminds me. “You made it really clear ten years ago, didn’t you? So… let’s just… pretend this didn’t happen.”

I grit my teeth. “Noah, please stop it. I wouldn’t be kissing you if I didn’t want to.”

“You can see why I find that hard to believe.”

“I don’t, actually.” I frown at him. “Everything that happened… that was… well, you know… that was a long time ago. I was still in shock. You said yourself that most women are… okay with it.”

“Are you kidding me?” His voice raises several notches and I’m starting to worry that Gwen and my father might hear him. “You think most women are okay with me not having legs? I was exaggerating. Most women flip their shit when they find out.”

“Well, what about that woman you went out with last night?” I say.

He shakes his head at me. “Yeah, that was great. An awkward dinner, then she wouldn’t even kiss me good night. I drove around for two hours after, feeling like shit—that’s why I got home so late.”

“Noah…” I reach out to touch his shoulder but he swats me away.

“Please,” he says. “The last thing I want is your pity.” He rakes a hand through his short, dark blond hair. “Look, it’s not your fault. I’m not mad at you anymore. This is just… the situation.”

He leans over to transfer back into his wheelchair. I watch the muscles in his chest and arms tighten as he lifts his entire body, and my whole body tingles. God, he’s freaking sexy. How could he accuse me of not wanting him?

Well, aside from the fact that I snuck out of his apartment ten years ago, leaving behind my engagement ring. But that’s not fair. I was still in shock about the whole thing then, and I was dealing with my mother’s illness. And I was a kid. It was a lot for me to deal with. If it happened now, I never would have behaved that way.

“I swear to you, Noah,” I say. “I’m not faking anything.”

He shakes his head at me. “Stop. Please. I mean it.”

He pushes his palms against the wheels of his chair until he’s left the room. I want to burst into tears with frustration. As much as I want him, there’s nothing I can say to convince him of that.