Mom is already up and gone when I sneak back into our room the next morning. I let out a breath, relieved that I don’t have to face her yet.
I change my clothes, ignoring the tightness and pain in my hips. The left one in particular feels like stretched-out taffy.
I swallow three ibuprofen and pocket a bottle of cough syrup and leave our room. Technically I shouldn’t take the pain meds on an empty stomach, but my body sits at a low-grade six on the pain scale. Not necessarily crying out for more heavy-duty drugs, but enough to say Hey, what you did yesterday, let’s say we don’t do that again for a long time.
All I want is a couch, some BSG, and many naps.
I stop by the kitchen, where other Home guests prepare breakfast. Sometimes we catch each other’s eyes, but mostly we live in our own lanes. I rummage in the communal pantry for something to eat, and swallow the first dose of cough syrup. First part of the plan—complete. Caitlin has staked a claim on the living room, setting us up for a day of doing nothing but putting our bodies back in somewhat working order.
Then she pulls out a stack of DVDs. What I wouldn’t do for Ryan to show up and drop off BSG. Not stay—because after our kiss it would just be too weird.
Luis shows up about fifteen minutes into the first film. “Is that All About Eve?”
I dig my foot into Caitlin’s leg. “You called in reinforcements?”
She smiles at me, all innocent. “Eventually you will understand and give in to my efforts to bring you to a new level of culture.”
“Marvel,” I say, drawing out the word.
Caitlin looks partially horrified. I guess she did succumb to my needs last night. I check my phone just to see if Mom’s either texted or posted something else. Neither thought is a comfort. And there is nothing on my phone.
“Two against one,” Luis says, hitting play on the black-and-white film.
I get up and walk to the wall, my left hip screaming persistently. The dull ache wraps itself around my body. Luis eyes me as I back up against the wall until my heels touch the baseboard. Caitlin ignores me. What I’m about to do she’s seen a hundred times.
On a normal person, hips would sit flush to the wall when you do this. For me, my right hip meets the drywall while my left juts out.
Ready to take on the pain, I inhale, put my hand on my left hip, and shove it back toward the wall to square them off. Pain tingles up my spine as bones are forced back into its regularly scheduled S-curve. Muscles and tendons scream and stretch.
“Whoa whoa whoa, what are you doing?” Luis asks. The panic in his voice is a response to the pain written on my face.
Pain crests and my hips re-form, muscles contracting to pull them back the “right” way. Or at least my normal way.
I relax against the wall, going from a six to a three on the pain scale. Luis is still caught in a state of shock. His response doesn’t surprise me. Maybe it should, but it’s just a reminder of why I keep a lot of things from my friends.
Caitlin looks up from the screen. “She’s just straightening her hips.” She says this like someone might say She’s brushing her hair. It’s just something we do.
Body back in order, I flop back on the couch. We layer ourselves there like lasagna, oozing everywhere but knowing that this mess will ultimately be good. Hours pass as we cycle through movies, sending Luis to get new ones. I’m not to be trusted, and Caitlin’s body has turned on her—everything hurts and swallowing is hard. She sips hot tea and takes the smallest mouthfuls of smoothie.
All our snacks and meds are spread out on the coffee table. We should clean them up, put them away, maybe not have them out for the world to see, but then again that’s a lot of work.
“Has anyone seen Kim?” Luis asks, looking for the next film.
Caitlin looks pointedly at me. “Yes, Ellie, why don’t you tell us where Ryan is?” Her words are pointed as if she knows something happened last night besides the fight with my mom.
“How should I know?”
She needles me with her foot. “Because you two are basically the same person.”
“We’re just friends,” I say firmly.
“So text him,” she says, her tone making this a challenge.
Fine.
I pull my phone out. Time to be brave. Maybe we can both just agree that nothing happened.
It was a fluke.
A mistake.
We’re just friends.
It’s fine.
Ellie
Where are you?
I can’t hide my smile when his response is almost immediate.
Medical Coach
Why do I feel like I have a hangover?
I laugh; it never occurred to me to compare this feeling to a hangover. I’ve been to a party or two where there’s alcohol, but I don’t drink. Not because I don’t want to or whatever, but who knows what I would do while drunk? And who knows who would be around to call the EMTs if I got hurt? There’s just a whole other level of concern when it comes to underage drinking for me.
Ellie
Welcome to the club.
Medical Coach
Did I black out?
Did we drink last night?
Ellie
We did not.
Medical Coach
I would like to return my membership to this club.
And just like that, we’re back to our old rhythms and I ignore how it makes me a little sad. But it’s better this way, I tell myself. Ryan is just helping me get back to Jack.
Ellie
If you figure that out let me know. I’d like a refund and a get out of jail free card.
Medical Coach
About yesterday I just
His text bubbles disappear, like he’s waiting for me to fill in how we’re supposed to feel about the kiss. This is my chance.
Ellie
I’m sorry.
I shouldn’t have done it.
Can we just pretend like it didn’t happen?
There’s a long pause where I hold my breath, waiting for his reply.
Medical Coach
Sure.
Ellie
Great!
I respond, but strangely I don’t feel it the way I expected to.
Ellie
Meet us in the 3rd floor living room.
Bring BSG.
Medical Coach
Ugh.
Ellie
Just do it.
We have painkillers.
Medical Coach
You know that’s not funny, right?
Ellie
Also not a lie.
“Annnnd,” Caitlin says, and she claps to get my attention. She looks at me as if she can see my feelings plain as day. I don’t want to explain to her what’s going on with Ryan. We’re ignoring it, moving on! No one needs to know this—it’s just for us.
I sit up and nearly drop my phone. Sitting up was a mistake. My whole body tenses and grabs on to pain like it’s a lifeboat on the Titanic.
Then, because they hate to be left out, my lungs chime in.
“He’s coming, if he knows what’s good for him,” I say, and sink back into the pillows. A cough singes my chest and I turn into the pillow to cover my mouth while my arms cradle my chest. God, that hurts. Mom had better be right—this surgery has to work. I leave my phone on my chest and cover my face with the one hand that can still touch my face.
“I’ve been summoned?”
I tilt my face away from the pillow so that I can see Ryan. This position usually hurts, but now it seems to stretch out my entire back, so I relax into it.
“And I brought entertainment,” Ryan says, holding up my box of BSG DVDs.
“So that’s why you texted him,” Caitlin says, turning to me, eyes narrowing as if she’s trying to judge my level of betrayal. I flip around and resettle on the couch.
I shrug. It was a benefit. But Caitlin continues to look at me like I’m purposefully keeping something from her.
Luis takes the box from Ryan, who limps to a chair and just collapses into it as if whatever strings that held him up were suddenly snipped.
“I’ve heard good things about this show,” Luis says, heading to the DVD player.
Caitlin makes a noise of protest.
“Three against one,” I say, and I don’t even try to hide my smile.
“I’m being tortured,” Caitlin says, mock agony dripping from every word.
“I believe the term is educated.” I give her my best smile. Ryan angles himself so he can look at me. He smiles at me and I meet his gaze, seeing the tiny flecks of black in his eyes that make his gaze so rich and warm. We’re still just friends.
Just the way I want it.
“Anything new on the mom front?” Caitlin asks, trying to draw me back into conversation.
Whatever was definitely-not-building between Ryan and me goes out as I focus back on Caitlin. “Mom? Oh. Nope,” I say, trying to put my thoughts back in order.
Ryan looks away and Luis looks confused. “Why do I feel like I missed something?” Luis asks. And I can’t tell if he means the blog or the kiss.
Ryan gives Luis a look that could cut through glass.
“It’s all terrible,” I say. The last thing I want to do is explain to them what’s going on with my mom.
“But?”
“Look, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Ryan looks at me with concern in his eyes.
But Caitlin is not done yet. She blinks at me, like she can’t believe the words that just came out of my mouth. Last night she was understanding, but in the daylight she wants answers. She flips back the quilt and launches herself at me. She may be small, but she is fierce.
“I’m so proud of you. You actually replied to me when I asked this, not just deflected or changed the subject.”
“Really?” I say, blowing her blond curls out of my face.
She pulls back and settles down, ready for the full story. Luis and Ryan hold still, afraid any move might startle a beast.
“I know it was bad—”
I shoot Caitlin a look that I hope says Shut. The. Fuck. Up.
She doesn’t take the hint.
“But this is a great first step. She actually got the message? You set her straight, right?” Hope hangs on her last word. When I can’t meet her gaze, she looks to Luis and Ryan as if for backup, but they’re confused and silent.
I press my lips together. Didn’t I make myself clear—this topic is off-limits. Caitlin tips her head at me, her joy vanishing as quickly as it came.
“Hit play, Luis,” Ryan says, shutting down the conversation.
I smile at him, grateful for the distraction.
Caitlin looks between us. “Oh, I get it now.” She makes a sound somewhere between a roar and a sigh. She stands up, anger pouring off her.
“What?” I ask, not able to keep up with her emotional tailspin.
“You’ve found a new hospital friend. Good luck, Ryan, she doesn’t last long,” she says. She looks pointedly at me and walks off.
I’m the one who says things through looks and glares, but I don’t know how to deal with this. Caitlin and I may have different approaches, tiny skirmishes, but we don’t leave each other. We don’t do stuff like this. Last night she was supportive, but when I want to just keep things to myself she gets angry at me?
I want to run after her and ask what happened. What did I do wrong? But my body is too tired, and my lungs say Don’t even think about running.
You did nothing wrong, I tell myself even as my stomach sinks. This time, I’m not sure my body is telling me the truth.