The Struggles of Growing Up-Completed

Chapter 33

"Woah, don't you knock?" Kyle Madison says while pulling the covers of the bed around him. There's fast food wrappers around the tables, probably from his friends. His hair is shaggy and unkept, made only worse by the thick, white bandage around his head. His left arm is in a cast and his face and body is cut and bruised all over.

"Wait, you're not the nurse." He says in a low voice as he sees us and slowly releases his grip on the sheets. We don't say anything. I don't say anything to assure him or explain. At first I think he's going to press the "help" button on the bed, but I know why he hasn't. I know he knows who we are, or at least, who I am. 

"You're the girl I hit." And in that second I don't know why I'm here anymore. I don't know what the hell I was thinking of saying to this idiot. I see no point in talking to him. I want no part in the investigation, in being near him, in reliving the events. I want to move on with Zach, remember our baby, but move on. 

And that's why I didn't even say anything to Kyle Madison. I couldn't even if I wanted to because my throat closed up and I felt like I didn't have a voice anymore. I just turned around and walked out the door. 

And I wish it was as smooth as it sounds. With my broken leg and still apparent bruising, it was more like "shifted around and limped out the door". 

I sink to the floor right there outside in the hall. It's relatively quiet right now, and we're not near any nurses or doctors, so I am free to cry. Right here, free to cry about my baby and this idiot and life and my painful, broken bone. I finally notice that Zach didn't follow me out, and I'm curious as to why he's taking so long, but in this moment I appreciate a minute or two of alone time.  

It's easy to talk about moving on, it's another story to actually do it. What do I do next? What's next for Zach and I? I hate that a tragedy brought us back together, and it may very well be that same tragedy that keeps us apart. We may not really be "back together", maybe he doesn't feel the same way about me anymore. Not after this. Let me remind you, I saw a particular black velvet box on his desk. Who knows what's next.

Before I can think any darker thoughts, Zach opens the door and I quickly wipe away whatever stray tears I have. He crouches down beside me as soon as he sees me. I prepare myself for one of his soft speeches, his words of wisdom, of reassurance, a comforting gesture, his soft shoulder to lean on–

"I think we better run before security tries to, uh, escort me out." With a puzzled look still on my face, he grabs my hand and swiftly but delicately lifts me up. He helps me steady myself onto my crutches, but quickly decides against it and instead carries me, princess style. Once we're safely in his car, and I catch my breath. 

And I burst into laughter. 

It's an uncontrollable, arguably inappropriate laughter but I can't stop. Zach joins in, and we just laugh. For a good two minutes. 

And with each second that passes the tension fades away, the worry, the pain, it just dulls a little.

"What was that?" I ask, letting out a few last chuckles. He smiles and clears his throat. 

"I'm sorry, Emma. I couldn't just leave, I needed to tell him some things. But then his thumb went over the nurse call button and we had to leave." He gives me a sheepish look and I raise my eyebrows.  

"I think 'leave' would be an understatement. I've never seen you be the reason to have to leave before we get 'escorted' out. You're supposed to be the one with reason." I chuckle. He shrugs. 

"I guess we'll always learn new things about each other no matter how much time has passed." And there it is, his charming words of wisdom. The kind you only ever encounter from a fortune cookie.