December: Chapter 8
“Hey,” Alisan greeted later that night when Adam had some time to himself. He usually stayed in his room and hung out. He got bored with TV though, and preferred to have real people to talk to. And Alisan was going to do her best to make sure that happened often.
The first thing Alisan noticed upon entering Adam’s new room was the dollar and odd change on the side table. Adam was staring at the pile like he wanted to kill it. His eyes were a dull, defeated blue, but there was a spark of something in them.
“Hey,” he answered, distracted.
So far, Adam had still only managed to count the dollar. The coins remained a mystery to him, and it had been hours. And that pissed him off enough to use all his energy to stare at the money, willing the values of the coins to make their way back into his head.
Curious, Alisan joined Adam, sliding into the bed alongside him. She did this on his scarred side, because that was the side Adam could still feel. It felt a little scary being this close to his incision, but Alisan was careful.
“What are we doing?” she whispered furtively, staring at the spare change and the dollar bill.
Adam swatted her with a hand, continuing to glare at the coins. “Sshh!”
If you asked Alisan, whatever Adam was doing wasn’t calm and boring and restful. It was stressing him out.
“You wanna know where that would do some real good?” she asked, her brown eyes shining. “In my pocket.”
Adam finally cracked a smile. “It would serve my dad right for leaving it here all damn day… You should take it,” he urged, his tone growing dark and introspective.
“Why’d he do that?” Alisan asked gently, scooping the money off the table and dropping it in her purse. “What did he want you to do with it?” She snuggled closer, resting her head on his chest, always mindful of his head.
“Count it.”
Alisan felt the words more than she heard them. They were a hollow vibration full of an empty sadness. Even though she was on the outside, she could tell his chest ached with it.
“Oh,” she managed, her voice heavy with the matching note of loss. “How’s it going?”
“I got the dollar,” he offered, resting his chin on her head.
“Well, that’s the most important one,” she smiled. “Any of the rest look familiar?”
“Sort of…” he hedged, feeling his cheeks flush. It was still really embarrassing to admit how little he knew, but at least Alisan was cool about it. She even seemed to recognize that he was hurting about it, and understood that.
“Mm,” Alisan hummed. It was a noncommittal sound, but not uncaring. She was doing her best to keep the pressure off him. To let him know that wherever he was at with counting money or anything else, she was okay with that. And she accepted him.
“The quarters are the biggest…The silver ones…” Adam ventured almost to himself. “I just can’t remember what they stand for. Or, you know…how much they are?”
“Do you want to know?” she asked, moving so she could look into his eyes. “Or do you want a break?”
“I want to know,” he said, not flinching. Not hesitating. “It’s all I’ve wanted to know all day.”
Alisan reached into her purse, pulling out a quarter, and setting it on the table, face-up. Then, she waited, giving him time to take it in.
“A quarter is twenty-five cents,” she told him matter-of-factly, as if she expected him to understand.
“Oh yeah…I totally knew that. I just…it didn’t make sense with all the other ones.”
She squeezed his hand, a silent encouragement. “You want to keep going with the refresher course, or catch up on the gossip?” she asked, smiling.
“Can you just…remind me what the other ones are?” he asked, even though he could feel himself getting tired.
So, one at a time, Alisan produced a penny, a dime and a nickel, telling him how much each coin was. Nickel seemed to be the only one he was completely unfamiliar with - so much so that she had to supply him with its name - but the name of the penny came immediately and the dime came with a bit more thought.
Patiently, Alisan explained how much each coin was, before putting it away and moving onto the next one.
“They could have done it that way, and I wouldn’t have walked away feeling like I was a total dumb ass…” Adam scoffed.
“You’re not a dumb ass,” Alisan reassured settling back again, to listen to his heart and letting him play with her hair. “You wouldn’t be mad at yourself for not being able to walk on a broken leg right away, would you?”
Adam furrowed his brow, his fingers stilling in her hair. “My leg’s not broken, it’s numb,” he clarified, sounding vaguely irritated.
Alisan reached up, catching his hand, and holding on. “I just mean, you need to be good to yourself. Be patient. It’s only been a few days, and things take time.”
“I just want to be normal and okay…” Adam said, like he was begging.
“Well, you never were normal,” she chided, hoping he could take the joke. “But you have always been okay. Now included.”
Silence fell around them, and Adam closed his eyes but didn’t sleep. It wasn’t that late yet, and he knew visiting hours would end too soon anyway. There was no way he would sleep away his time with Alisan. He stroked her hair with his right hand, letting it fall through his fingers as his mind wandered.
“Truth?” he asked, as if they were already in the middle of a game of Truth-or-Dare and she had agreed to tell it.
“Truth,” she echoed honestly.
“How bad is my head?” he asked.
He was staring at her so hard that she very nearly looked away. Sometimes his intensity was a little bit much. But she knew he needed her to be honest.
Still, she didn’t know what to say. How to make this part of him okay, too. He had been through so much disappointment. So much grief, already. But she knew he deserved a chance to make his own choice. He was still Adam.
“Do you want to see?” she asked softly. “I have a mirror.”
“No,” he answered quickly, in a stunning show of insecurity. “But it’s bad, isn’t it?”
“It’s a scar,” Alisan said softly. “It goes from behind your ear to right near your temple. It’s long and red, and it has staples. You hair is shaved around it…it’s starting to come in just a little bit. Strawberry blonde.” Alisan went on, telling him the gritty details and letting Adam draw his own conclusions.
He closed his eyes, leaning back against the pillow. “I don’t want to see it,” he said, feeling something heavy settle in his chest. Something that told him he was never going to reclaim the person he used to be.
But Alisan was quiet, draping an arm around his waist and holding on, even though he couldn’t feel the whole of her embrace.
“You don’t have to,” she told him seriously. “You don’t have to see anything you’re not ready for.”
“Okay,” he said, barely a whisper. There were tears in his eyes, and he wondered how they had gotten there without his knowledge. But, damn it, he was so, so tired of fighting. So tired of pretending everything was okay, when it wasn’t even close.
Alisan stayed very still, listening to the way Adam’s tears sounded in his chest. She imagined them getting lost in her hair. She imagined absorbing his pain.
Impulsively, she sat up a little straighter, so she could see the thing he was so ashamed of. And instead of covering it, Alisan pressed a kiss to the bare skin beside the scar, not wanting to bother the staples, or infect the wound with her spit or her lipstick.
At the sensation of the kiss, Adam went perfectly still. He still didn’t even have the guts to look in the mirror to see just how repulsive he looked, and now this.
He didn’t know how Alisan did it. Just accepted him. Just was for him whatever he needed her to be. Caretaker, comedienne, friend, sister.
She just loved him, that was all.
And he hoped, one day, that he could return that gift, in full.