The Little Mistakes (boyxboy)

Chapter 45

Christmas came and went and so did my shoulder injury and that stupid wheelchair. Stairs were impossible at first. I slept on the couch upstairs for the first week. It was uncomfortable and sucked, but I got over it. But once I got the hang of hobbling around on one foot, with Patrick's help I could go down to the basement and have my own room again.

I spent mostly everyday just laying down and sleeping. The doctor told me I needed all the rest I could get in order to recover. And I had to take a deep breath every hour to aid the healing of my ribs as well as putting ice on it. I didn't fully understand it all but I didn't really care either. I just did it because I trusted the judgement of a doctor more than my own.

I ended up never filing for any kind of lawsuit against Rikert. I just couldn't make myself do it. And after the initial anger and shock faded, Patrick listened to me for once and respected my decision. I knew for a fact that he wasn't happy about it, but he didn't push it. Same with my aunt and uncles. I don't think anybody was really happy about it, but I was. And I figured that was all that mattered. I just wanted to focus on getting better and trying to fall out of love.

The night I got home from the hospital and almost the entire next day I spent sleeping. So it wasn't until the second day of being home that I finally talked to my parents. According to my uncles they had been freaking out with worry since the second they found out what had happened. But I was so scared to talk to them, afraid of what they would say to me. I didn't need them rubbing in how clueless I had been; I already knew.

When I did sit down on the couch and Skype them, Patrick sat right next to me the whole time. It kind of reminded me of the time I called my parents to tell them that I was gay and Phoebe kept me company. Only Patrick somehow made me feel so calm it was unreal. He didn't even have to say anything. Just having him sitting there with his arm and his leg pressing against mine made everything better.

The conversation lasted for a half hour and could best be summed up as a crying fest. All three of us were a mess. I kept apologizing for screwing up and getting into this situation but they insisted that it was their fault for sending me to America. I wanted to believe them, but I knew that wouldn't be right.

I mean, obviously if I'd never gone to America none of it would have happened, but I didn't want to look at it like that. Everything that happened to me happened for a reason. I learned so much from everything--the good and the bad. The relationships that I knew I was going to walk away with were some of the best that ever happened to me.

It was crazy to think that if it wasn't for me hating the world as much as I hated myself six months ago, I never would have known Patrick as well as I did. And then I realized that I didn't even know that much about him.

I couldn't tell you his favourite colour or his favourite movie. I didn't know if he liked vegetables or if he hated mushrooms. I had no idea if he enjoyed watching sports or if he thought they were pointless. But I did know that he cared about me and went out of his way a lot to do things for me.

And I knew the way his eyes would change colours in the sun or the shade. How they'd sparkle with anger or shine with amusement a hundred times a day. I knew the contours of his face and the light spattering of freckles that dusted his nose. I knew the way his voice changed tone when he talked of something he was passionate about or how he got snappy when he was embarrassed. I knew how his cheeks would redden when I looked at him too long or hugged him tight to myself.