Rough Read online

  She grinned at me, that goofy grin patients got when they’d had too much morphine.

  “I’m thinking you’re really cute.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I mean, how are you feeling with your pain?”

  “No pain,” she smiled at me, and, without skipping a beat, asked, “are you single?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Single and unavailable.”

  “Ahhh… what does that mean?” she asked, a little confused.

  “It means I’m not in a relationship, and I’m certainly not looking.”

  She looked disappointed. “You wouldn’t even go on one date with me? You are, like, the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my damn life!”

  I was used to this, getting hit on. And for the exact reason she’d just stated.

  It sounded conceited, but I was not conceited at all. In a lot of ways, I was insecure. But I knew one thing to be true, I was very naturally good looking. I just had one of those faces. I wasn’t oblivious to it.

  Despite being as good looking as I am, back in my high school days, I hadn’t gotten a lot of interest from women because I’d been so weird. I’d also been a pretty bad dresser, very tacky, and that negated some of the good looks.

  But I’d only grown more good looking in my adulthood, so, even with my scrubs on and my blonde hair barely styled, I got attention from the women with whom I worked. It was a constant. And I ignored it.

  I really had no desire to date, no desire to explore a relationship with anyone. I was good on my own. Without anyone else holding me back, I could give into my workaholic tendencies and use my time to further my nursing career.

  It might sound depressing to anyone else, but I’d resigned myself to not having any deep, meaningful romantic relationships. It wasn’t for me. But that was fine. Not everyone had romantic relationships. Some people were single all their life, and they’re happy. I was happy this way.

  Or, I don’t know, maybe not happy. I was content this way. Content to go back to my quiet apartment every night, content to spend my time working, but maybe happy was too strong of a word. It was not like I woke up in the morning with a smile on my face.

  Hell, I didn’t even really smile throughout my day. What could I say? I was not a smiley person. Not even a little bit.

  I guess, in a way, I’d resigned myself to this. Resigned myself to the idea that I was going to live a boring, normal, regular life.

  I’d doubted from a young age whether happiness was in the cards for me. I hadn't exactly had the most positive upbringing.

  I’d grown up with my aunt. Which was fine, it was mostly okay, but it wasn’t your usual parent-child relationship. It’d always been clear that she’d never wanted to have kids, and she’d taken me in purely out of obligation, nothing else. And you could sense it. I hadn’t ever been what she’d wanted.

  I had no relationship with my mother because she was a drug addict who’d never sought a relationship. I had no idea about my father. I hadn’t gotten a lot of the normal, nurturing relationships that you learned as a child, and it had led to me being… different. Weird, cold, someone who most people avoided.

  And the people who hadn’t avoided me, the people to whom I’d really gotten close, they didn’t even speak to me anymore. I hadn’t been able to maintain a healthy, intimate relationship my entire life.

  So, I wasn’t seeking that anymore.

  I’d been accused of being depressed, of having something wrong with me. I didn’t think I was, though. Depression felt like a state of mind, and the way I am isn’t just a state of mind. It’s who I am at my core. It wasn’t a mental health problem, it was just… me. Me and my skepticism about life. Some people were optimistic, glass-half-full type of people. I simply wasn’t that person.

  I stepped out into the hall just as two paramedics were rolling in a patient. I wasn’t going to jump on the case, I wasn’t on triage today, but the person on the gurney caught my eye…

  Was that… no, it couldn’t be him. It couldn't be. He didn’t live here anymore, and I would have known if he’d moved back into town… right?

  But it was him, there was no denying it. I’d have recognized that face anywhere. It was burned into my memory, and I didn’t think I’d ever get it out.

  It was Jesse.

  3

  Jesse

  The drive back home was one of the longest of my life.

  This past week had been torture. Having to pack all my things and say goodbye to the woman I’d loved dearly. Or, at least, thought I’d loved dearly. After discovering she’d cheated, I had really been questioning that.

  Oh, who was I kidding? I’d been questioning my love for her long before that. I’d just desperately wanted it to work. Because I’d yet been able to make a relationship work.

  And I think part of it was my fault.

  I mean, I didn’t blame myself for her cheating. That was her choice. A choice she had not had to make. But I had been a distant partner.

  I tried, I really did. That was why I’d tried to do things like make dinners with candlelight. Because I knew, in my day to day life, I was not the most emotionally available partner.

  I didn’t know how to explain it. I guess, on some level, I just didn’t feel very attached to the women with whom I’d been. God, I usually wouldn’t ever admit that, but it was true. I didn’t get attached.

  I wanted to, I wanted to so bad. I wanted to fall in love with someone. I wanted to love them deeply and seriously and just… feel it.

  But I didn’t. I hadn’t… not in a long time.

  And that was a love I couldn’t let in.

  My parents were clearly disappointed I was moving home. And I couldn’t even really tell them the reason. I mean, I was going to tell them that my ex and I had broken up, but they hadn’t even known we’d lived together. They wouldn’t have approved.

  They were very, heavily religious. I’d grown up in a strict Christian household. So, living with a partner before marriage was, of course, living in sin, which they didn’t approve of even remotely.

  I’d hidden it from them. Which wasn’t hard to do, considering we didn’t have a very strong relationship.

  I’d even questioned if they’d let me come back home. I mean, I guess I knew deep down they would, but it had still been a concern of mine.

  When I’d turned eighteen, I’d known I was going to distance myself from them. It wasn’t that I didn’t love them, because I did. I mean, everyone loves their parents, right? Even if you had a rocky relationship with them, you still loved them. You still wanted their approval.

  And that was where the difficulty lay in our relationship. I wanted their approval, and they very rarely provided that.

  They had always been so strict with me growing up. I hadn’t been able to do anything that normal other kids my age could do. I couldn’t do sleepovers unless it was with kids from church. I couldn’t date.

  Maybe that was why I was so horrible at dating now. I’d never gotten the normal experience that my other friends in high school did. I was, like, socially stunted.

  I really hadn’t even had that many friends. Some, mostly acquaintances that hadn’t really hung out with me. Because, how could they have? My parents had never allowed me to do anything. But I had had one best friend who had hung out with me and stuck by me. He hadn’t gotten bored of me, even when I hadn’t been able to do things. And, he’d used to sleep over at my house all the time, even though it was boring as hell because it was the only thing my parents had allowed. He still lived in town.

  And he was exactly who I didn’t want to see.

  I was hoping I’d be able to avoid him entirely. I didn’t expect to be in town long. As soon as I could get a job and make enough money to be out on my own again, I planned to be. It should only be a couple months. And, based on his social media posts, he mostly just worked these days.

  Yes, even though I didn’t want to see him, I still stalked his social media. I know it was weird and that I shouldn�
��t, but I just couldn’t help myself.

  I didn’t want to see him, but he was still important to me, he still mattered. If anything, I didn’t want to see him because I was embarrassed of my past behavior… among other things.

  I was only about ten minutes away from home, thank god, because I’d been driving all night. I was more than exhausted. I couldn’t wait to just get home and crash on my old bed… Even if it was going to bring a lot of intense memories up.

  Memories that were already coming back to me. I was seeing old signs, passing old hang out spots, and I felt a nostalgia that I hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

  That I really hadn’t ever wanted to feel again.

  My feelings about my childhood were so complicated. On the one hand, I’d had a really difficult time with my parents, and I hadn’t exactly gotten to do everything I’d wanted. But, at the same time, some of my happiest times in my life had been during my childhood and teen years. Then again, that wasn’t hard to beat, considering how badly my adult years had gone.

  It just hadn’t been what I’d imagined. I’d thought I’d grow up, move out, be out from under my parents’ thumb, and meet an amazing girl whom I loved dearly. I’d figured, you know, I wouldn’t have needed to feel so closed off to the world anymore.

  But the world hadn’t been all I’d thought it would be.

  I took an exit off the freeway and immediately started passing the small lake in my hometown. This spot was more nostalgic than others. It had a very strong presence to it. The leaves were beginning to turn red which only made the lake more beautiful. Looking out at the water, reflecting variations of red and yellow, I could only think of one person… Aaron.

  This had been our spot. There was a small hamburger stand across the street, and we’d used to grab fries or some ice cream and just talk at the lake. Some of the best, deepest conversations were had right here. And, once again, I was filled with feelings I didn’t want…

  I shouldn’t have been thinking about Aaron, though. And not just to avoid nostalgia, but because I wasn’t clear headed at all. I was sleepy and distracted, so when I’d stared out at the lake and gotten lost in thoughts of him, I’d ended up staring too long.

  When I turned my eyes back to the road, I noticed immediately that I had drifted just a little too far over, that I was about the hit the median in the middle of the road.

  My knee jerk reaction was to swerve the other way to keep myself from going over the median, but that was a mistake. I overcorrected, jerking myself into the other lane directly into the back of a very large white truck.

  I saw it coming, saw my car nearing the bed of the truck, felt a big pull on my body, driving me forward…

  And then it was all black.

  4

  Aaron

  “Do they know his name?” I asked immediately, as soon as I processed that it was him.

  “Jesse Whitfield,” one of the paramedics answered. “We found his wallet in his pocket at the scene. Car accident, he rear-ended a very large truck. Other driver was unharmed, but he was unconscious at the scene. Heart rate of 95, BP is stable, obvious laceration to the head.”

  Although he still isn’t conscious, his vitals all seemed stable for now. A bit of an elevated heart rate, should keep an eye on that, but otherwise fine.

  “Okay… let’s get the doctor to order a CT scan, maybe even an MRI since he clearly hit his head. I’ll clean this wound across his forehead and apply pressure, and then I’ll need someone to come stitch it up,” I told the nurse beside me.

  “I’ll get them ordered right away,” he responded as he walked away.

  I wasn’t usually the one to do the hands-on medical procedures, like cleaning a wound, as opposed to running around to doctors and getting test results. I usually pushed that on other, newer nurses like I just had.

  But this time, I’d almost done the opposite. I’d almost asked him to handle the wound while I ran off to get tests ordered…

  Because I wanted so badly to run off right now.

  Everything in my heart told me to run. Get away as fast as you can. This dude is trouble for me, he always had been, and I hadn’t expected to see him ever again. Hell, I hadn’t even known he had moved back into town. Though, I guess I couldn’t exactly expect that he’d tell me, given our history.

  Our history… a history I had shoved into the back of my mind. Or, at least, attempted to shove in the back of my mind. Because, the truth was, thoughts of him still came to me. Sometimes it was a song or a smell that brought him back, more often it was a dream of the way things had used to be…

  It felt like there were a million little things that reminded me of him. So many things that brought memories flooding back to me, as if they’d just happened yesterday. It was a lot to handle, even when he wasn’t here. But, with him lying before me, it was unbearable.

  Even worse, he was lying before me hurt. And, as angry as I was at him and as valid as that anger was, I couldn’t think of that when he was unconscious and bleeding in front of me. All I could think about was how worried I was.

  How badly had he hit his head? Would there be any trauma? A brain bleed or severe concussion? What about the rest of his body, did he have any internal injuries? I hadn’t been there, I had no idea how bad the crash had been. Usually rear-endings weren’t terribly severe, but it depended how fast he had been going.

  I shouldn’t have been concerned. I had no right to be. He wasn’t my best friend anymore. We hadn’t spoken in years. I didn’t really know this man lying before me. I hadn’t in years. And yet, I still felt protective over him. I knew that if something happened to him, I’d still be heartbroken.

  There weren’t many people I’d loved in my life. I didn’t open myself to people. Like I said, I didn’t even date, I had no desire to. Never done well with meeting new people, was always okay being on my own.

  But when I loved someone, it was deep. It meant I’d decided to be around them was better than being alone, and that was a big, big thing for me to decide. It didn’t come easily. And when that person left my life, they didn’t take the love with them. No, it lingered.

  I think, everyone I’d loved, I’d love for the rest of my life. No matter what they did, no matter how angry I got, I’d still love them while I hated them.

  I invested parts of myself that I shouldn’t invest, so I find it impossible to let go. I didn’t want to care about Jesse. I’d never wanted to miss him, but I did and I had.

  I pressed bandages to the wound on Jesse’s head, doing my best to stop the flow of blood which had already slowed a bit since he had first been brought in. Still, half of his face looked like a bloody mess.

  It was crazy, though, how even with his hair matted and a gash on his head, he still looked so handsome…

  No, Aaron, stop it. You can’t think like this. You can’t allow yourself to start getting attached again. Do you even remember how long it took you to get over him?

  I didn’t. I had no idea how long it had taken… because I don’t think I ever really did. I think I was still, you know, in the process of getting over it.

  As I continually applied heavy pressure, his eyes began to flutter open… and my heart began to pound.

  I’d been stressed and nervous enough being in the same room as him when he’d been unconscious. With him awake, with him recognizing me, it was ten times more stressful. What could be worse?

  Of course, as usual, when I asked myself ‘what could be worse,’ a worse scenario popped into my head.

  What if he didn’t recognize me? What if, with a haircut and an older face, he didn’t even realize who I was? What if I was almost completely wiped from his memory?

  The thought stung, because he was nowhere near wiped away from mine. I hadn’t been able to wipe him away, no matter how hard I’d tried. What if he didn’t feel that way? What if it hadn’t been as hard or intense for him?

  But, of course, it wasn’t, right? That was the whole point. That was why we’d stopped sp
eaking, that was why we’d left. Because this whole thing between us… it had been one-sided. And that one side was my side.

  I felt sick as he started to shift his head, his eyes fluttering open in clear confusion. Was he going to see me? Was he going to know me? Was he–

  “Where am I?” he asked before looking directly at me, stopping my train of anxious thoughts.

  I didn’t know how to answer for a second. What did I say? Did I announce who I was?

  No, what was I thinking? I needed to treat him like any other patient.

  ‘You’re at the hospital, sir,” I told him. “You were in a car accident. You’ve got a laceration on your forehead that I’m cleaning up, and then we’re going to get you a CT scan and MRI.”

  “An MRI?” he asked worriedly, still unable to look at me directly because the pressure I was applying to his forehead wasn’t allowing him to move very far. “Is… something really wrong with me?”

  “We just need to make sure there isn’t anything going on internally, but don’t worry. You just need to relax, we’re going to take good care of you. Is there anyone you want us to call? A spouse, maybe? Your family?”

  That was a routine question, but, with him, it was loaded. Did he have a spouse? Did he have any romantic partners in his life? I was desperate to know, but, still, this wasn’t an abuse of my power. If there was someone, we really needed to get a hold of them.

  “My… my parents,” he muttered. “They’ll be confused about why I’m not home. This was my first day back in town, and… I should be home by now.”

  “Your first day?” I asked.

  Why did this fact fill me with relief? Maybe because, if it was his first day back in town, that meant he wasn’t hiding from me. He hadn’t like, been living here for years and refusing to get in contact with me or anything.

  Still, I was sure that was his plan. It was not as if he would call me up and ask to grab a coffee. Not with the way things had ended between us.