Adrenaline Crush (4 page)

Just as my mind is about to snap with restlessness I hear a familiar car pull up.

When Mom opens the door, Jay's face is partially hidden by a huge mass of wildflowers.

“How's the patient doing?” He crosses the living room to my couch holding out the bright bouquet.

“They're beautiful, Jay,” I say. “But the ones from the other day are still alive.”

“Never too many wildflowers for you.”

“What a perfect tiger lily for sketching.” Mom admires an orange blossom. “Let me get these in water.”

Jay hands them to her and holds up a paperback copy of a book he told me about called
Into the Wild
.

Mom leans over to read the title. “Now why on earth would you give her a book like that?”

“Don't worry,” Jay says. “It definitely qualifies as a cautionary tale. Shows just how dangerous nature can be if it's not respected.”

Satisfied, Mom heads for the kitchen with my flowers, and I try to sit up.

“Whoa, remember, toes above the nose,” Jay says.

I lie back but reach my arms up for him. He kneels down beside me and with a look of tenderness he kisses me. We linger a moment and I feel his lips pull up into a grin.

“Jay, is that your Subaru in the driveway?” Dad's voice thunders in the doorway.

Jay is practically a blur as he shoots up and spins around to face my father. “Sorry. If you need me to move it I can.”

Dad eyes him. He's been very nice to Jay the couple of times they've met, but I'm afraid walking in on us kissing may have just changed that. Drastically. When it comes to guys trying to date me, Dad considers it his job to “weed out the weak.”

Sure enough, Dad pretends to scratch his shoulder, clearly displaying my name tattooed in big letters down his forearm. Moving into Jay's personal space he asks, “Do you know how precious my daughter is to me, Jay?” Dad flicks his fist, making my name pop slightly, and prods, “Well, do you?”

Judging by the look on Jay's face, he just felt a little pee come out.

“You can park your chick car on the
left
side of the driveway,” Dad commands, and Jay mumbles something about having to go home anyway.

He gives Mom and me hurried goodbyes, and as soon as he's outside I scold my father for being so harsh.

Dad chuckles. “I'm just doing my fatherly duty.”

“You enjoyed that too much,” I accuse. “Isn't it enough that Jay saved my life?”

Dad's expression softens as he glances at my foot propped up on pillows. “That's the only reason I didn't toss him out on his ass as soon as I saw him kissing you, Dyna. This guy seems way too white-bread for my girl.”

“He's been very good for her.” Mom walks back in and places the fragrant wildflowers on the side table near my head.

I listen to Jay's car pull away and go back to watching the smooth blank ceiling. Allowing my eyes to unfocus, I try not to think about how unbearable things will become if Dad just chased him away for good.

That boy is the only perk this prison has.

*   *   *

“I'm right behind you,” Jay says. It's two weeks later and we're finally back on the trail that runs behind my house. But instead of soaring on my bike, I'm hobbling along on my crutches. My ankle is being compressed and held in place by a huge plastic contraption that comes up to my knee. It's secured with thick seat belt–like straps that might as well be around my neck the way the stupid thing is suffocating me. It's called an air cast, but we've nicknamed it Frankenfoot.

I'm trying to be grateful for the fact that I am no longer horizontal.

Jay puts his hand on my shoulder. “Do you need to rest?”

Despite conquering the simple staircase, I'm still sleep-deprived. Now I just lie awake in my own bed staring at the ceiling, but I don't need to rest at the moment. What I need is for Jay to kiss me. I hop to the edge of the trail, put my crutches together, and lean my back carefully against the wide trunk of a tree. Settled, I let my crutches drop with a clatter and give Jay a look that says “Come here.”

With a smirk he moves in front of me, stroking the side of my face with the backs of his fingers. He seems to have gotten taller since the day of my accident.

“You okay?” He moves his arm down to my waist and I will him to kiss me.

He leans forward,

tilts his head in that beautiful way,

and draws me in like a breath.

The familiar hint of cool spearmint is there and I'm lost in the sweetness of it.

It's as if I knocked on Jay's bike helmet that day and he answered by saving me. I've been landing in his arms in every way since.

He groans and pulls back, but the longing in his eyes remains. Reaching for him, I wrap my arms around his shoulders. Effortlessly, and taking care not to bump Frankenfoot, he lifts me up to himself. I'm floating, weightless, and slide my hands to the sides of his face.

We press our lips together again. He settles into the kiss, leans back, and I'm

thrown off-balance.

Drop my

hands back down to his

shoulders. Hang on. “Eeep.”

But he has me all along. He raises his chin and I watch the longing in his eyes drain as his expression shifts to something else. Worry.

“Sorry.” He sheepishly places me back on the ground. Holds me steady with one hand while he retrieves my crutches. His tenderness is touching but I wasn't finished with that kiss. He helps me get situated with my crutches before guiding me down the trail.

Frustrated, I want to tell him I'm not feeble. I'm still Dyna. The one and mighty.

To show him, I lurch along the path, picking up speed until he has to lengthen his stride to keep up. The hint of a breeze brushes my face and loosens Frankenfoot's hold on my throat.

“Dy-na,” Jay warns, and I turn my focus back to the ground so I don't fall.

But I continue moving faster and faster until I'm taking two hops on my good leg before literally launching myself along with the crutches. I'm actually starting to get a little distance.

“Dyna! What're you doing?”

I laugh back over my shoulder, but Jay's look of horror slows me down. I stop the launching action.

What is the matter with me?

Jay catches up and puts a hand on my shoulder until I come to a complete stop. “You need to be more careful.” His voice is firm. “You don't want to make things worse by falling.”

He's right, of course. I need to stop acting wild.

To change.

Long days on couch lockdown convinced me of that.

“Ready to head back?” Jay asks, even though it feels like we just got started. “It seems too soon to be pushing yourself so hard.” I swear he'd be fine carrying me the whole way along the path.

I sink into my crutches. “I guess I should rest up for tomorrow.”

“Where is this miraculous therapy place anyway? Can I drive you?”

I shake my head. “It's on the other side of the Gunks. Mom has this whole plan for us to
bond
over breakfast at the Village Tearoom.”

“You two don't exactly strike me as the fancy-scones-and-pastries type.”

“We're not,” I say. “Not to mention we have to leave the house at eight-thirty to have time to sit around drinking designer tea before my session at ten. And Mom is
not
a morning person. She's been on this treasure-every-moment-together kick since my…” I don't say it. “Did I tell you she anointed me with the smoke of burning sage while I was trying to eat my lunch yesterday?”

Jay laughs. “That's awesome.”

“I can hardly wait to find out what sort of nutty place she picked out for my therapy. I just wish she'd go back to normal.” I look at him. “Well, I mean normal for
her
, anyway.”

Jay says, “I don't think there's such a thing as normal after almost losing a child.” My hands tighten on my crutches and he rubs my shoulder gently. “Let's go back to your house and hang out a little while before, uh, I have to go home and get my workout in.” It turns out I wasn't so far off with my Bowflex theory. Jay has a gym set up in his basement where he spends time every day.

I look up into his face. “And this has nothing to do with the fact that my father gets home soon?”

“No,”
Jay says in an exaggerated way while nodding his head up and down. We laugh, and I tap his butt playfully with my crutch. He lunges to steady me before I can lose my balance and then he helps me reposition my crutches toward home.

Jay claims there's an ancient tradition that says since he saved my life he's now responsible for it.

He takes responsibility very seriously.

 

5

Mom won't go over the speed limit even though the stupid tea and scones took too long and we're running a full ten minutes late. An impatient car shadows us through the forest. Mom used to be the impatient one, flying down these winding roads, but even her driving has changed since my fall. Finally the car roars by as she turns off at a hanging wooden sign in the shape of a butterfly.

“Ulysses Inner Outer Healing Center,” it reads in iridescent blue letters.

As we pull up the long driveway to the parking lot, an A-frame log cabin appears through the trees and I see a small group of people sitting on the deck overhead. None of them seem to be participating in any form of physical activity.

This is starting to look like a touchy-feely talk-about-our-emotions type setup. And crippling accident or not, I will never be a touchy-feely kind of girl.

“Um, where did you find this place?”

“Oh, you know.” Mom gestures as if the house just fell out of the sky and landed in front of us. “I saw an article in the
Mid-Hudson Mantra
. The Ulysses Center goes much deeper than traditional physical therapy. They specialize in highly traumatic cases and use a completely unique approach to holistic healing.”

And … there it is
.

“I had to beg them to fit you into this session. Actually started crying over the phone.” At my look she adds, “I wasn't being manipulative. I was genuinely upset at the time.”

I don't want to get out of the car, but I picture Mom crying on the phone to get me into this place where she believes they can help me.
I can do this
.

We make our way slowly up the stairs to the deck. By “slowly” I mean we're now fifteen minutes late and by “make our way” I mean I'm using both crutches positioned under one arm as I hang on to the railing with my other hand and hop up the stairs. Mom follows, holding out her arms on either side of me as if she is capable of catching me if I fall.

Steps leading up to a physical therapy group
.
What a fantastic idea.

When we reach the top I'm surprised to spot the distant purple outline of the Catskill Mountains through the tree branches. If they clear-cut this front yard they'd have an amazing view. Instead, the deck is surrounded by mature oaks and maples. A huge windowed wall runs along the back of the deck with a sliding door that leads into the building. Bird feeders dot the branches and a squirrel is hanging by his feet quickly emptying one of them. I smile. It's actually pretty nice up here.

I look around the circle of wooden Adirondack chairs. The people sitting in them remind me of when Mom experiments with fabric—combining various scraps until the results are so “out there” she ends up tossing it.

A patchwork quilt of busted-up folks.

Frankenfoot gives a moan.
Guess I'm in the right place.

“You're late,” a large shemale at the head of the circle snaps. His/her hair is short and curly and I take a moment, trying to determine gender. I check hands, wonder some more, and finally scan the neck for an Adam's apple.
Definitely female
.

“Say hello,” she commands.

“Um, hi,” I address the four others. “I'm Dyna and this is my mother?”

“Hello, Dyna. Goodbye, Dyna's mother,” the woman says gruffly. “She'll be done at one o'clock sharp.”

I give Mom a look that says, “Please don't leave me alone with these people,” but she just hugs me before heading back down the steps. When she glances over her shoulder, I swallow at the worry on her face. Smiling bravely, I face the group.

A round-faced man sitting close by gives me a boyish smile and his blond hair falls into his eyes. When he raises his hand to wave at me, I notice his other forearm ends in an unexpected stump. I'm stunned as I return his wave, waggling my fingers, and then feel guilty for that. Like, “Looky over here. I've got fingers.”
What is wrong with me?

I'm not ready to be around other people.

The only empty chair is next to the blond guy, and it's so low to the ground there's no way to smoothly slide into it. I lean my crutches behind it, and after a few clumsy attempts I finally manage to drop my butt down hard. Leaning back makes me feel too vulnerable, so I hunch forward and look around the circle.

An older woman with gray hair twisted into two braids gives me a smile. She looks completely healthy and I wonder if she maybe wandered up here because she had nothing better to do this morning.

Beside her is a stunning Asian girl with a patch over one eye who appears to be in her early twenties. Her posture is rigid and her gaze takes me in with enough intensity for six eyes.

Next to her sits a black man with snaking scars running down both his arms. I'm pricked with sorrow for whatever happened to him, and I regret making these people wait for me.

The burly leader introduces herself as Miss Brauhn and tells me to call her Miss, which is a little funny since there is nothing Miss-like about her. Not that I'd consider laughing.

With a pointed look at me she says, “
As I was saying
 … this is
inner
therapy. My sister takes care of the
outer
therapy in the wellness center.” She points her thumb toward the sliding glass doors. The sun is shining too brightly against the glass for me to be able to see inside, but I can hear weights ringing out at even intervals. I try to envision her even burlier sister, but cannot.