Adrenaline Crush (10 page)

I laugh and Jay kisses me again and helps me get situated on my crutches before sliding into his car. I wave a blind goodbye to his headlights as he drives away.

It's not until I'm climbing into bed that I realize I forgot to tell him about getting to know Pierce a little better. I pull my comforter up and decide that smoldering look he and I shared by the burned-out campfire will be less damning once I let Jay know the two of us talked.

I wonder what the deal is with that guy anyway. What could've made him enlist so young? No matter how cool he may have seemed last night, I'll bet Pierce is still really messed up.

I imagine him ever-so-casually covering me as I slept. That image cuts to a close-up of sleep drool running down my chin and I cringe.

Spending overtime with my therapy group clearly has me setting my compass due
crazy
.

 

12

It's so hot that Monday morning we should all be worshipping the trees around the deck for their shade. I glance over to where Pierce is studying his hands while Miss talks about what an awesome event occurred Saturday night when Polly doused our campsite with bear spray.

Polly says she's probably not going camping again anytime soon, but she admits her fear of the woods was a little out of control.

“I do feel more powerful after facing it,” she says, and we all applaud.

“Woot!” Rita holds up Polly's arm in victory and proclaims, “Bad to the bone bitches!”

To keep with the theme of Polly's so-called breakthrough, Miss would like each of us to share about fear and the way it affects our lives.

“Dyna.” I actually flinch at the sound of Miss saying my name. “Would you like to discuss your experience with fear?” I look around at the faces watching me and claw my mind for a response that will satisfy Miss without exposing a whole new personal issue for her to dissect.

“I guess I just have the same basic fears as everyone else,” I say. “Fear of public speaking, fear of dying, fear of falling—”

“Ah, yes, your fear of falling,” Miss interrupts. “We'll need to dig deep into that one since you're still repressing the memory of your accident.”

Polly butts in, saying, “I thought I heard you talking about it by the campfire…”

“It's still really fuzzy,” I say.

Miss leans toward me, and Pierce blurts, “Fear is a choice.”

Miss is drawn to the light of Pierce's words like a moth and asks him to go on. I flash him a look of gratitude.

“We can't always block fearful thoughts,” he says. “But we can choose how much we allow them to control our lives.”

He continues talking about the power of fear, and I press back a cocktail of emotions as I'm forced to recognize the underlying anxiety I've felt since my fall. I've been doing my best to ignore it, but my mind pulses with quiet constant fear that contradicts everything I thought I knew about myself.

I'm glad when it's finally time for us to shift our focus to outer healing. Using my cane I shuffle inside with the others, where we discover we'll be working in pairs this week. Since Sparky and Frank have become lifelong buddies by now and Rita and Polly are the recently formed duo of Badass Bitches, I get paired with Pierce.

“Gimps with the gimps,” he jokes, and I have to bite my lip to avoid smiling. Workout Barbie brings the two of us to the mats by the windows and shows us a series of stretches we're to do together.

When she's finished demonstrating, Pierce gestures for me to go first. I lie on my back with my good leg raised and he pushes firmly on the back of my thigh, pressing it toward my chest for the count of twenty. The stretch starts to burn but I don't react as I focus on the woods outside the window.

Switching to my injured leg, Pierce says, “Let me know if I go too far.” I glance at him.

Mistake.

Miss has explained a phenomenon called pain paths, where once the brain has felt a particular pain it's easier for that pain to be perceived again. Kind of like a weird organic nerve memory that we need to overcome. I suddenly realize Miss is not completely full of shit, because the current that connected me to Pierce at the campsite is back.
Those eyes.
My insides liquefy as we look at each other.

He has a hold on every inch of me and I can't break the current until the count of twenty is finished and he releases my leg.

“Did you feel that one?” he asks, and I wonder for a split moment if he's talking about the look we just shared. Of course he's asking about my leg. I nod, trying to picture Jay holding my hand in that ambulance as Pierce and I continue stretching together.

When we're ready to switch places, he unstraps his prosthetic leg and removes it. Pulling off the rubber sock underneath, he slides everything to the side of the mat. Watching him feels oddly intimate. Grimly he lies back, holds his good leg up, and I move into position.

As I press against the back of his leg he watches the ceiling, face tough, and commands, “Harder!”

I dig into the mat and lunge my full weight against him. He grunts in response and I back off, but his strong arms draw around me and pull me toward him. He holds me against himself, his leg sandwiched between us.

He's watching my lips and his breath is hot on my face. I feel a tremor run through him, but I don't know if it's from the strain of the stretch or if he's showing as much restraint as I am.

He wants me
.

Everything is reduced

to our matched breathing,

until someone drops a barbell with a thud and

the rest of the room comes back into focus. Rita is talking intently to Polly beside a rack of weighted pulleys, and Frank is holding his prosthetic arm up for a fake high five from Sparky.

Pierce releases me from our embrace. I clear my throat and become all business, addressing the task of helping him stretch his amputated leg. Without hesitating, I lift it and place both hands on the back of his up-stretched stump. His nostrils flare at my touch this time.

“You don't have to…” he protests.

“You ready?” I press against the back of his thigh as I look forward, out the window. He doesn't wrap his arms around me this time, but I count to twenty before releasing him.

Looking at my shoulder, he says, “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

When I try to hold him in a cradle stretch, the ridiculousness of my slender arms straining to gather around the bulk of his curled-up body makes us both smile. He hoists himself into position, but as soon as he relaxes into my hold he ends up lying on top of me. We make a few attempts, but finally find ourselves in a laughing tangle on the mat.

The rest of the room has grown quiet, and Pierce must realize it the same time I do. Leaning against each other, we look around and see everyone's attention aimed in our direction.

I spring up. “Um, did someone say some…” I trail off as everyone goes noisily back to what they were doing.

Pierce and I look at each other for a breath before he slides over and launches into a series of rapid sit-ups that are so intense it's like he's gone to another place in his head.

I think about what might have been between us if everything were completely different. If we were each whole. Pierce would probably still be on the other side of the globe. And Jay and I might be biking together, chasing down a fresh breeze. Or maybe kissing Jay would've been a onetime thing.

I sigh and lie down on the mat beside Pierce. Join him in doing enough sit-ups to block out everything except my burning stomach muscles and how much I want to stop.

 

13

By the time I'm limping toward Mom's car my abdominal muscles are so cramped I can barely stand. Despite the pain, my endorphins are kicking, since after sit-ups Pierce and I hit the exercycles hard.

Climbing into the car, I catch a glimpse of him stepping into the woods.

“Who was that?” Mom points through the window to where Pierce disappeared.

I shrug and will myself not to blush. “Just some guy who lost his leg in the war.”

“Wow.” She glances at me. “He was watching you. He looked away when he saw me looking, but he was definitely watching you.”

I search for him through the trees but he's gone, and I wonder again how far he walks each day. Mom doesn't say anything more as she backs out of the Ulysses driveway and heads toward home.

“Jay should be at the house by the time we get there,” I say, reestablishing my boyfriend's name and image in my mind.

“Good, your school supplies came today,” she says. “Maybe you two can look them over together.”

“He's going to help me with English and French.” I think of how excited he was that I'm doing a unit on Shakespeare. “He's kind of awesome, huh?”

“Yes, he kind of is.” Mom smiles.

My mind wings back to my body pressed against Pierce as we looked into each other's eyes.

Slouching down in my seat, I put in my earbuds. Sometimes, it's better to think about nothing.

*   *   *

That night after dinner, Dad announces, “Time to discuss this year's road trip.” Before anyone can respond he turns to Mom. “Since Dyna has therapy and Harley has his …
job
, I was thinking you and I could take the Harleys.” He smiles at her. “What do you say? Two weeks on the open road? It'll be like old times.”

Mom frowns. “To be honest, I've been considering selling my bike. I just don't know what the kids would do if something happened to us.”

Dad looks from Harley to me to Mom and says, “You're kidding, right? The kids are grown. You and I are expert riders. This trip will be us reclaiming our freedom.”

“I just have an odd feeling and everyone knows that riding scared is a bad idea. Besides, we can't go away now.” Mom gestures dramatically toward me. “Dyna is still recovering.”

“
Dyna
is the most independent and capable girl I've ever met.” Dad rises from the table. “If you're looking for an excuse not to go, fine. But don't act like Dyna needs you to sit around singing her lullabies.”

“It's not an excuse. I'm just not ready to leave her alone.”

“Alone?” Dad shoots. “She could never be alone with Whitebread practically soldered to her side.”

Mom stands in a huff, defending Jay, and the next thing I know the two of them are arguing about the trip full-throttle. Dad lays into her about acting like such a nervous wreck until Mom finally can't take it and starts screaming out in frustration every time he opens his mouth to speak.

“Listen, Beth—”

“Aaaaaaaa!”

“I'm just—”

“Aaaaaaaa!”

“I give—”

“Aaaaaaaa!”

For them it's like singing a romantic duet.

Mom has always said we come from a long line of passionate people and passionate people do not sit around discussing things calmly. They scream and holler at their loved ones and sometimes throw endearingly small objects in their general direction. Harley and I quickly head out of the kitchen before Mom starts lobbing the plastic spice shakers again.

I prop myself up on the couch in the living room and loosen the straps to Son of Frankenfoot. Removing the brace, I try to ignore how scrawny my naked ankle looks as I feel for the plates and screws under my skin.
Freaky
. I trace my fingers along the scar that snakes partway up my shin. The scar from where my broken bone ripped through.

“Hey, your fall was what? Six weeks ago?” Harley must've been watching and sits down beside me. “If the two of them end up going, maybe you and I can spend a day on the mountain together.”

I shake my head at him. “I'm not even close to being ready for the mountain.”

“The last time I broke my tib I only took four weeks off.” He smiles. “You have that brace of yours. I can top-rope you up the rock face in your harness.”

“Thanks, bro. But I think I'll pass.”

“Suit yourself, but trust me, it's best to get back out there as soon as possible. Those doctors are just overly cautious so they don't get sued.”

“I think I'll take a chance listening to them, instead of my stoner brother.”

“Ouch. That stings.” He flicks me in the arm as he gets up to leave. “But I'm telling you, Dyna, you're ready.”

*   *   *

By the next day my parents' flaming battle has burned down into a compromise. Mom will let Dad drag her away from me, but no way is he getting her onto a motorcycle. For road trips we usually take our old conversion van named The Fantastic Vandura, which is parked near the woods behind our house. Mom says it's Vandura or nothing.

Then she insists they delay their trip so she can go with me to my next doctor's appointment after therapy on Monday. There, I'm told I need to work a little harder at PT. As young, healthy, and active as I am, they expected me to be ready to move to an Ace bandage by now. Instead, they want to see me again in two weeks.
I guess I should've done a few of those hateful toe-crunches after all
.

By the time we get back to the house Dad has already loaded Vandura for their trip. Harley's hanging out at the Ranch, but Dad has made him adjust his work schedule so he can drive me to and from therapy while they're gone. His exact words to Harley were, “It's the least you can do to take a little responsibility around this place.”

Mom says goodbye, letting me know she'll come right back if I need her and warning me not to try to drive the car or do anything dangerous. She actually gets teary-eyed as she hugs me for the final time. Dad and I exchange glances over her shoulder and his look softens. I close my eyes and hug her back.

Mom drags the farewells out so long that Jay pulls into the driveway as we're still standing around. After giving him a soul-withering look, Dad climbs into Vandura's captain's chair and starts barking that they need to go, “Now, now, now, Beth!” He points to his chest. “You are poking the bear!” We all know he's about to rage, but Mom won't leave until she makes Jay promise to take care of me.