Recovery Journal: Day Seventeen
I saw the ocean today.
I saw the ocean today, and I cried.
I cried so hard, my throat burned, and my ribs ached. I cried for everything it had taken from me—the lazy days, the working days, and every moment in between.
It had once been my home.
My solace.
My peace.
And, in one night, all that had been stripped away.
I was moved today to a rehab facility. Moved like a piece of furniture or a box of junk.
I was no longer a person. Just a job.
The rehab facility is closer to home by a couple of hours. I’m in North Carolina, but home is still a world away.
Driving down the highway in the van the rehab team had sent up felt like I was being thrust into live-action role-play where everyone knew the game but me. I’d been holed up in that hospital room for so long, I’d almost forgotten what life was like on the outside. I’d almost forgotten there were people out here, going on with their daily lives with no real thought to the ferry or how it’d impacted them.
Because it hadn’t.
It’s an odd feeling, realizing how your life can be so utterly altered by a single event while the world is completely unaffected.
I sat back in the van while the rehab team talked about their weekend, laughing about the movies they had seen and the restaurants they had gone to, as I stared out the window, coming face-to-face with the monster of my nightmares.
The taker of all my hopes and dreams.
No doubt, I’ll be thrown in some sort of psych ward now after my mental breakdown in the van. I’m not even sure they have those in this place.
Whatever. I don’t care.
I don’t care about any of this.
Oh, and in case you’re wondering, Cora shot me down. She’s happily married. With a young daughter.
Happily. She used the word a lot when she told me. Like she was afraid I’d forgotten the meaning of it.
Not quite, Cora, but I have a feeling I’m about to.
By the time I arrived at the inn for dinner, I was a goddamn mess. Sweat was running down my back from the heat, even after changing my shirt twice. I’d changed my mind three times on whether to bring flowers for Cora, doubling back to the house at the last minute to grab them after I firmly decided to leave them at home.
When I finally arrived, I was a solid twenty minutes late and probably looked like a psychopath from all the sweat and the mangled flowers in my hand.
But all of this was forgotten the moment the door opened, and Cora greeted me.
“Jesus,” I cursed, giving her a once-over before she even had the chance to say hi. “You look insane.”
“Insane is good?” she asked, pink staining her cheeks.
I’d never seen her in anything beyond scrubs and shorts. Granted, this woman could wear a paper bag and be the hottest woman in the room. Tonight though, she’d dressed up, wearing a short, strappy number with tiny pink flowers dotting the fabric.
“Insane is really good,” I clarified.
Her cheeks reddened even more. The shade of them was now quite possibly my new favorite color.
“You two gonna stand there, ogling each other all night, or are you gonna invite the boy in?”
My eyes widened as I recognized the voice inside. “Is that Terri?”
She nodded. “Molly insisted on making dinner from scratch tonight, and Terri stuck around to make sure I wouldn’t ruin it.”
I laughed. “How very Terri of her.”
She motioned for me to come in, and as I crossed the threshold, she leaned in toward me, the smell of her hair instantly hitting me. “How do I get rid of her?” she whispered.
Smiling, I whispered back, “I have no idea. She’s never been overly fond of me. I tend to just duck out when she’s around.”
“I might be old, Dean Sutherland, but I can still hear you jabbering on in there.”
“Come on,” she said, as both of us tried not to laugh. “Before she scolds us.”
She took my hand just then, pulling me behind her. It was such an innocent gesture but felt monumental for so many reasons. It was only the second time she’d willingly touched me, and unlike so many others who shied away from it, she’d grabbed my right hand—boldly, unapologetically, and without hesitation.
I missed feeling the warmth of her skin under mine as she held onto my prosthetic hand, but the gesture sent reverberations through my whole body, and it took the entire walk to the kitchen for me to process it.
“Nice flowers,” Terri said, glancing in my direction as she grabbed her purse from the counter. “They for me?”
I looked down at the pathetic excuse for flowers I’d brought with me, the ones I held in my left hand.
Was that why she’d grabbed my right hand? Maybe it hadn’t been on purpose? Maybe she hadn’t realized it?
“Um, no,” I said, fumbling for words. But then I looked into Cora’s eyes, and for a single moment, everything disappeared.
“What do you do when you have a crush on a girl? You bring her flowers.”
“They’re for Cora,” I said softly.
Terri gave me a quick wink before heading for the door. “You kids have fun. Everything is ready, and there are rolls in the oven.”
“Thank you, Terri. This is more than I could have asked for.”
“Ah, well, I don’t get to cook for a family much. Henry, my husband, owns a restaurant in town, so we mostly eat there. And, before that, when I was single, I was cooking for one. So, this is nice.”
“…cook for a family…”
I knew she’d said it on purpose. I didn’t know Terri as well as Molly and Jake did, but I knew one thing about the old broad. She didn’t say anything by accident. The thought stuck in my mind after she let herself out, so much so that I didn’t hear Lizzie ask about the flowers until she came bursting into the kitchen.
“Flowers again?”
“What? Oh, uh, actually, these are for your mom,” I said. “Maybe you can put them next to yours?”
She made a sour face. “But then they’ll be in my room, so technically, they’d be mine. I’ll let her keep them.”
I smiled. “Seems fair. So, how’d your first day go?”
Cora made a chuckle, taking the flowers from my hand, and then she looked around for a vase. Clearly, I’d asked the wrong question because, suddenly, I was reliving the day in vivid details only Lizzie could provide.
“Ms. Haley took my crayons.”
“What now?” I asked, immediately sorry I had.
I caught Cora dishing up whatever was on the stove onto plates. I couldn’t help but notice the way her hips swayed back and forth as she hummed to herself.
“And I told her, communal crayons just didn’t make sense.”
“Huh?”
Clearly, I’d missed something while I was checking out Cora.
“They make us share crayons. Isn’t that ridiculous?”
I looked to Cora for guidance. Her eyes widened, and she made a nodding gesture. Apparently, I was to agree.
“Yes, totally absurd.”
“What if the kid next to me presses too hard or, for heaven’s sake, eats the crayons? That kind of improper use should not affect me, should it?”
“I should think not?” I said, almost phrasing it as a question because, really, I had no clue what the rules were when it came to Crayola rights.
My eyes drifted back to Cora and the short dress. Her legs seemed to go on forever. What I wouldn’t do to—
“So, you’ll speak to my teacher then?”
“Um, what?”
“About having my own crayons. We haven’t moved on to using colored pencils or markers, but I’m guessing it will involve the same kind of stuff. Better if you include them in your discussion.”
My face went blank as I found Cora’s.
She was taking her place next to me at the table. She shrugged. “She’s already tried asking me, Molly, and Terri. You were the next viable option.”
“Who knew kindergarten could be so complicated?”
Cora laughed. “When your name is Lizzie Ashcroft, everything is complicated.”
As with anything Molly cooked, dinner was amazing, and Lizzie spent the entire evening entertaining us. Although, somehow, I thought I’d been talked into going to her kindergarten class and pushing for crayon rights.
Or at least, starting a petition.
“She’s smart,” I said the moment Cora and I found ourselves alone for the first time that night.
Lizzie was in bed, and we’d settled ourselves in the parlor, enjoying the peace and quiet for a change.
“I know,” she replied.
“I mean, she’s, like, really smart. I’m not even sure there’s a word for it.”
“Savant,” she said. “Or so she told me.”
I couldn’t help but grin.
“Does it ever make you nervous? How gifted she seems to be?” I asked, turning to her on the couch.
Her hands were wrapped around a hot cup of tea, although she hadn’t taken a single sip.
“Always,” she said. “I wonder if I’m doing enough or too much. When she taught herself to read at three, I thought, Wow, what an amazing child I have, and of course, I still think that, but I often worry about the things she reads because it’s hard to block a child who can literally hack her way into any computer. I mean, the kid was teaching me about internet security just last week.”
She let out a frustrated breath. “I just want her to be a kid. She’s already gone through enough this year without having to read about all the other shit that goes on in the world.
“But then I see her excitement over the littlest things—from learning how moon phases affect the tides to teaching herself how to play the piano. Learning is what she does. I can’t keep her from it.”
Placing her tea down on the table beside us, her hand slid out to meet mine in the space that separated us. Just the tips of our fingers touched but I felt it. That connection. I’d felt it all those years ago; I knew I had. And, now, I was positive of it. Now, I just had to convince her of it.
“This isn’t easy for me,” she said, taking my hand now fully in hers and pulling it into her lap. “Not just the touching, but also the opening up.”
“You don’t have to—”
“No, I do,” she replied. “I said I’d explain, and I will. It’s just hard.”
Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, I replied, “And, like I said, I’m not going anywhere.”
“You see, I used to read about women who suffered abuse and think, I’ll never end up like that. I’d never be so stupid.” She let out a strangled laugh. “Like there was some sort of IQ level that went along with it.
“In books and movies, the men who beat women are always lowlife scumbags. The moment you see them walk on camera or the minute you read about them, you know. But, when I met Blake, there was no flashing sign above his head. Nothing that stood out in the back of my mind. Not even now.
“Looking back, it was a simple love story, just like any other. I fell in love. The first time he hit me felt like some sort of dream. Surely, I was going to wake up and realize none of it had really happened because my husband was not the type.”
She took a deep breath.
“There is no type when it comes to abusers. They’re just shitty men with shitty tempers. Just shitty, shitty men. And that’s what makes them so dangerous because, if I can fall in love with one—”
“Who’s to say you can’t fall in love with another,” I said, finishing her sentence as a single tear fell down her cheek.
She nodded.
“I’m not one of those men,” I promised as I watched more tears fall from her eyes.
“I want to believe you,” she said. “I do. I just…I don’t know how.”
“What if we leveled the playing field?” The words sprang from my mouth before I even had a chance to think it through.
“What?” Her eyebrows shot up in a mixture of confusion and amusement.
“Okay, hear me out,” I said, letting go of her hand to raise both of mine out in front of me in a show of mercy. “You fear me sometimes, right?”
Guilt washed over her. “Yes, but like I explained, it’s not you specifically; it’s just—”
“It’s a trust issue. Your trust was broken by someone you loved. He”—I did my best to control the anger I felt whenever I mentioned her ex—“asserted his dominance over you when you’d trusted he wouldn’t, and now, you don’t know who you can and cannot trust.”
She gave a quick nod. “Yes.”
“So, we’ll level the odds.”
She crossed her arms in front of her as a look of puzzlement splashed across her features. “I don’t understand.”
“You asked me a while ago if I trusted people, and I answered yes. Without a doubt, yes. Do you remember?”
She nodded as I let out a ragged breath.
“Well, that was a lie. A lie I tell everyone. Even myself. The truth is, I lost my trust in a lot of things the night I lost my arm. The ocean. People. God.”
She swallowed hard as I continued, “I do my best to carry on like none of it bothers me, but, like you, I don’t trust much of anything anymore. I don’t trust the ocean will keep me safe. I don’t trust people will accept me with this contraption on my arm, and I’m not sure God is even up there, listening to me anymore.”
“Dean,” she whispered.
“So,” I continued, trying to keep my voice steady, “how about I do one scary thing in exchange for one of yours?
I sat up as she watched with interest, and the moment my fingers touched the neoprene fabric, my stomach started began to lurch in protest. “I’ve never done this in front of another person—outside of rehab, that is.”
No turning back now.
As I pulled the fabric completely down and began to unlock the prosthesis, her eyes widened—not so much in horror, but in fascination. She was after all a nurse, and I thought being able to see my injury healed after all this time was sort of rewarding for the woman who’d cared for it so long ago.
When the whole thing was off, sweat was beading at my temples, and my hand was shaking as she leaned forward to take a closer look.
Her hand reached out, but she stopped short. “It’s healed nicely. May I?”
I nodded, swallowing hard as her fingers gently touch the skin around my residual limb. Feeling someone else’s touch there was surprisingly wonderful.
“See? Not so terrifying after all,” I managed to say between breaths.
She smiled sweetly. “You’re beautiful, Dean.”
I let out a nervous laugh. Being here with her, so exposed, so vulnerable—hell, I’d rather be naked in front of the entire town.
“Not nearly as beautiful as you,” I whispered, my heart racing in my chest.
“Now, I’m supposed to do a scary thing?”
I nodded.
“What?” she asked, looking nervous.
“It’s your stage, Cora. Do as little or as much as you want, but know this: I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever. If all we do is talk for the next five years, it will be the best five years of my life.”
She smiled. “That’s a lot of talking,” she said, leaning closer.
I could smell her freshly washed hair as it fell in waves off her shoulder.
Coconut and wildflowers.
Her eyes lingered on my mouth as she placed a tentative hand beside me on the couch.
“You don’t have to—” I began before a single finger came to rest on my lips, halting my words.
“If my heart is beating wildly and my breath is ragged, can’t that be considered scary?” she whispered.
“Yes,” I answered, my eyes meeting hers.
It took every bit of strength I had not to reach up and kiss her, not to taste those lips I’d been staring at for ages, or not to run my fingers through her hair.
But this was her stage.
Her moment.
So, I sat back and let her have it.
Every wonderful, torturous moment.
She bent forward and then pulled back, no doubt talking herself through it. Her fingers brushed the skin of my forearm before curling into a ball at her waist. I wanted to tell her this whole thing was too much, that I wasn’t worth it.
But I knew there had already been one too many men in her life telling her what she could and couldn’t do.
I could see the decision in her eyes the moment she made it. A mixture of determination and perhaps something else—desire maybe—flashed deep in those dark brown eyes of hers.
God, what I wouldn’t do to make this woman mine.
Those were the words running through my mind as our lips touched. That was the prayer I sent up to a god I hoped was listening as I pulled her closer, tasting her for the first time, drinking her in as she moaned in my mouth, parting her lips ever so softly.
This was what I had been waiting for. This was what I’d been looking for.
Her.
Dear God, please don’t let me fuck it up.
“You need what now?” Jake asked as he sipped on his coffee in the wee hours of the morning.
I’d hustled liked crazy to be the first one to get here, trying to beat the ever-punctual Cora, so I could have a few minutes of alone time with my best friend.
So that I could badger him for help.
“Dating advice.”
“And you’re asking me? The guy who’s currently engaged to his high school sweetheart?”
Unfortunately, Molly must have been in a hurry to get to the inn this morning because there were no special deliveries today. No pastries. No doughnuts. No hot-from-the-oven scones.
Just plain old, boring clinic coffee.
But nothing could deter my good mood today.
Nothing.
I was currently over the moon. No, if there was something greater than over the moon, I was that. I was fucking euphoric.
I’d kissed Cora Carpenter.
No, I’d made out with Cora Carpenter.
I stood by the coffee pot, grinning like a damn idiot, and poured a cup. “Yeah, but you do remember, there was a significant gap between high school and that proposal. I figured you had to have gained some experience in there somewhere.”
He made an amused sound deep in the back of his throat as he leaned against the counter. “Between med school and my residency, there was time for one thing, Dean, and I doubt you came here, seeking information on one-night stands. You’ve dated. Why don’t you use some of your own practical knowledge? Hell, what did you and Molly used to do?”
I thought back to that time in my life and gave a half-shrug. “Sat around and watched movies mostly. Maybe played some board games.”
A sly grin spread across his face. “And, to think, it didn’t work out.”
“Hey! I was the one who dumped her!” I said, unable to hide the amusement written all over my face. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
His smile only widened.
“Cora thinks this is weird.”
“What’s weird?”
“The dynamic of our relationship. How okay we are with everything—the past, I guess. How easy it is for us to talk about it.”
He shrugged. “I guess it would only be weird if we weren’t over it.”
I nodded in agreement. “That, or if we shared pointers.”
His eyes looked up at mine in horror.
I chuckled under my breath. “Molly still like that thing with her ear?”
He pushed off from the counter, his head shaking back and forth, as if he were trying to dislodge a picture from his head. “Not cool, Dean.”
“What about that sound she makes when she—”
“I will kill you,” he threatened, pointing a finger in my direction, still unable to make eye contact with me. “They taught us things in med school. I could make it look like an accident.”
“That’s a lie,” I said. “What about—”
“Dean! I swear to Christ—”
“What the heck is going on in here?” Cora shouted in the midst of my laughter and Jake’s tears.
“Dean’s a messed up dude; that’s what. I’ve got to go get ready for my first patient,” Jake said, giving me a look that said he was definitely going to poison my coffee later.
Cora suspiciously eyed me as she got her coffee for the morning. “What was that all about?”
I leaned against the counter and watched her, still chuckling under my breath. Still thinking about that kiss. “You know how things between Jake, Molly, and me are never weird?”
“Yeah,” she answered, mimicking my behavior on the other side of the counter.
“I think I just made it weird.”
“Is everything okay?” She looked concerned, pushing off the counter to come to my aid.
“What? Oh, yeah. This is what friends do. We give each other shit.”
She didn’t look entirely convinced.
“He’ll be fine. Promise. He’s probably in there right now, devising a plan to get back at me.”
“And you’re not nervous?”
I thought about it. “Hell yeah. But that’s half the fun. Did you have a better drop-off today?”
My sudden change in conversation topic had her reeling. “Um, what?”
“School. Sorry, I didn’t transition well. Did dropping off Lizzie go better today?”
She nodded. “Yes, much. I am still working on my epic mom speech, but I definitely felt more in charge today.”
“Well, you didn’t come in here with those laser-beam eyes, so I figured it had to have gone at least a tiny bit better.”
“It did,” she replied. “Although, when I saw you two yelling at each other like schoolkids, I thought the laser beams might be required.”
“Nah.” I shook my head. “All in good fun.”
“Says you. Jake looked like he’d seen a ghost.”
I laughed, remembering our conversation. “Probably something a lot scarier, but yeah.”
“You ready for another day of data entry?” she asked, taking a sip of her coffee before she set it on the counter.
She then began her morning routine, something I’d grown fond of watching every single morning. She first stowed away her purse in one of the empty cabinets before grabbing the green sweater she wore to keep away the chill during the day. And, finally, she gathered up all that lovely dark hair, twisting it into a knot on the top of her head.
I’d fantasized what it’d be like to watch her do this every morning. To lie in bed and carry on a conversation while she was brushing her teeth in the bathroom. Maybe we’d have a quickie in the shower…
“Yep. Totally ready,” I finally responded, realizing I hadn’t said anything for a full thirty seconds. “But, hey, before I begin my fascinating day, can I ask you something?”
She’d just finished securing her hair with a bobby pin, and she turned to give me her full attention. Her big brown eyes stared into mine, and I felt that dopey awkwardness again. The loss for words, the fumbling sensation that I was free-falling without a net.
“Date,” I blurted out.
“Date?” Her eyebrow rose.
“Yeah. I mean, would you like to go on one?”
A sweet smile peaked the corners of her mouth, and pink dotted her cheeks. “Lizzie,” she answered.
“Huh?”
“I’d need to find someone to watch Lizzie.”
“Oh.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Maybe Molly?”
Her lips pressed together as she thought it over.
“But you’d better ask her,” I added, looking down the hall toward Jake’s office. “Yeah, you should definitely ask. I think I’m on their shit list for a week at least.”
That eyebrow rose again, this time a hint of amusement painting her face. “Okay. When?”
“When? Well, before the date would be good.”
Her smile widened as I realized what she meant.
“Oh, tomorrow? Dinner? If that works.”
“I’ll let you know.”
And, with that, she began to walk away but not before her fingers brushed the tips of mine.
“Dean!” Jake hollered. “In my office.”
“Shit,” I cursed under my breath.
“Somebody’s in trouble,” I heard Cora sing in the other room.
By the time I made it down the hall, I had half a speech prepared and spared no time in delivering it the second I crossed the threshold. “This isn’t how we do this, Jake! You know the rules of combat when slinging the shit. I just gave you some; now, you have to wait and find the proper and right time to throw it back at me.”
When I took a second to breathe, I caught him eyeing me, his arms crossed in front of him with his feet doing much of the same.
“Are you quite finished?”
“Uh…”
“Good. Shut the door.”
I did as I had been told and took a seat, feeling like a delinquent child in the principal’s office.
“Now, you have two options. Taps is pretty nice, but if she’s not a beer drinker, then it’s kind of a pointless place. Unless you’re trying to sell her on the food, then it could still be an option.”
I looked at him like he’d lost his damn mind.
“What? You asked me for dating advice,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “So, I’m giving it.”
“Yeah, and you said you didn’t have any.”
He shrugged. “I have my moments. Or at least, Molly seems to think I do.”
My eyes narrowed. “What gives?”
He let out a huff. “Thin walls, okay? I heard you bomb out there, and that can only mean one thing. Either you really do suck at this whole dating thing, or Molly’s right. And, since Molly tends to be right about most things—and I swear to God, if you ever talk about her in that way again—”
I held up my hands in front of me. “Promise, it’s out of my system. Now, what is this about Molly being right?”
“You swear, man? ’Cause, literally, it’s taking all my strength to even look at you right now.”
A small smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth, but I quickly erased it. “I swear. Will never happen again. I honestly only did it to pull your chain. I don’t think of her like that. At all,” I stressed.
His eyes narrowed on mine but then proceeded, “She thinks you and Cora are, like, destined or whatever. You know how she gets.”
I nodded. “I know; she’s told me.”
“And?”
I let out a breath. “And I don’t know. The idea that fate has something to do with my life, that there’s a plan to all of this? I struggle with it because it means that, somewhere out there, someone decided this”—I pointed to my right arm—“was supposed to happen to me. And what good can come from this? But do I think Cora and I could be something great?” A small smile spread across my face. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“Well, all right, let’s talk beaches,” he said. “Women love dinner on the beach.”
By the time I got out of there, I had enough date ideas to last until our fifth wedding anniversary, maybe longer.
And I’d never appreciated my best friend more.
Too bad he’d have nightmares of me and his fiancée doing the dirty for weeks.