Page 70 of Double Exposure

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I'm in the hospital for two weeks. It seems ridiculous. There was the initial surgery then two more. Then a blood clot—basically one thing after another. I so fucking want out of here.

Through all of this, my mother gives us the space we need. The staff at the hospital allows Jade to come and go regardless of visiting hours so she can help with her dad and spend time with me. I don’t like that she’s spread so thin, but she carries it well.

Her parents postpone going home and now her mother comes and visits as well. I spend much of the week dozing and waking up to family: Brock and Ryan who think it’s hilarious to tell Jade and her mother stories from my childhood, Jace who always sneaks in real food, and poor Codie who cries every time she visits. On the day before my release, she arrives with shampoo and two plastic basins.

“I’m washing your hair,” she says. “It’s gross.”

I oblige, though tipping my head back leaves me dizzy.

I hate this.

That night, after everyone leaves, Jades sits on my bed and runs her fingers through my hair. After about five minutes, I’m half asleep.

“She’s right,” she says. “Your hair was getting gross.”

I open one eye. “You’re already a Weston. Don’t work at it so hard.”

She smiles and helps me with a cup of ice water. My hands still shake. My recovery, I’m told, is going to take a while, and the leg will need physical therapy.

“I want to know you,” she says.

I smile and shift my weight slightly. “What are you talking about? You know me.”

She touches my face. “We really just met, and I—”

Now I’m fully awake.

“I thought I was going to die on that helicopter,” she says. “I don't know how I can leave and go to Bali or Patagonia or wherever, knowing you’re left in worry-hell.” She pauses. “It’s awful. Between you and Dad, I just spent two weeks in it.”

It’s dark again in the room, a single reading lamp lights her hair. It’s like silken obsidian.

“Don’t worry about that. I’m a big boy.” I don’t know why this all came up but for some reason she’s decided we have to talk about this.

“Maybe talk to your parents,” I say and close my eyes. “They have some secret.”

“I can't.” She bites her lip. “We don't talk about things. Your family does.”

I have to set her right. “Hey, there are things we don't talk about either. My father's death. My mom's grief. Those are off the table.”

She nods. “Thus, the box?”

“Thus, the box.”

She’s silent for a moment.

“Talk with them. I bet you’ll be surprised.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“They’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

She nods.

I try to rub her back, but I’m sloppy with sleep. “You better get going.” I surrender to her lips on my forehead, then my eyelids, coming down on cheek to my lips.

An erection starts and I moan into her mouth. “Vixen. So cruel. I can’t do anything about this.”

“See a doctor,” she whispers, and then she sits and strokes my hair, tracing my face with her fingers until I fall asleep.