Copperback (14 page)

 “It
wasn’t bad at first, but when I didn’t fight back, he was…” His voice broke off,
thinking of the right word to use.

“He
was going to kill you,” I said.

He
nodded his head. “After he left, I got out of the truck and tried to get away.
My leg wouldn’t work, and I hurt when I moved. The last thing I remember,
before I woke up here, was trying to stand back up.”

“Chase
hit you with his truck. He panicked and called me.” I paused for a moment, thinking
of how the cycle of events – that started with one look – had led him to my
house in the end. “It must have been fate.”

I
could feel the blood rush to my cheeks, warming my skin in embarrassment. It
was hard not to feel the small nag of feelings for him when he was struggling
to tell me how thinking of me made him smile.

 He
pointed to my hand. “You need to take care of that.”

The
blood had seeped through the napkin, leaving small spots of red dotted in a
line. My wrist had started to sting, so I pulled the napkin away, seeing how
badly I had cut it. It was still bleeding, but only a little. Most of the
pressure Job had applied had stopped it. I pulled out a rolled up strip of
gauze, wrapping it around and taping it off at the end. The bandage made it
look far worse than it was, but I couldn’t figure out how to cover it with just
band aids.

I
figured while I was cleaning up my own injuries, I might as well check on his.
There wasn’t much left to do, since he had already lost feeling, but it was
still worth a try. I hoped there had been some change for the better. It was
shocking to feel how cool his skin was against my hand. I hadn’t looked before,
but there was a definite pale blue color that ran down to his ankle. Most of
the tissue was already dying, and I knew that in the morning I would have to
hear the screams again. This time it hurt more, because I had gotten so close
to him over the last week. I couldn’t fathom being able to stand there and let
it happen.

“You
should probably try to get some sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow,” he
suggested, not showing any fear of what was to come, which scared me even more.
I didn’t want to look up to him and have to answer to his soft brown eyes about
how petrified I was.

“I
don’t want to leave.” I said what I felt in my heart. I wanted to stay by him
through the night, and try to be there for him. I needed his company, and I
hoped he wanted mine.

Job
pushed himself up and slid over on the bed, making room for me to sit. He immediately
held his side from the pressure on his ribs, making a soft grunt against the
pain. I didn’t hesitate to be by him.

I
crawled up on the bed, bringing my knees up and turning to my side to face him.
His arm stretched out behind me. I laid my head on his shoulder, curling up to
him to be as close as possible. He turned to look at me, studying each feature
of my face, as I was of his.

All
but an eclipse of green had faded from under his eye, making it almost a
perfect match to his other one. There was the faded scar still above his
eyebrow, where some of his hair hung down, almost covering it. I kept trying to
look over his features, but I was drawn to his eyes each time. They were such a
beautiful chestnut brown, but each time he looked at something else, I could
see the gold twinkle reflecting the light. Unconsciously, I moved my hand
across his chest, running it up against his smooth skin, feeling every muscle, until
I reached the coin around his neck. I couldn’t help but to play with it, making
sure it never left his skin.

“I’m
so sorry. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” I asked, hoping
there was something he wanted from me.

“This
is enough.”

I
could feel his arm behind me, nudging me closer to him, almost inches from his
face. I waited for him to lean down and kiss me, but it never came. He was
reading the expression on my face. Something he saw stopped him.

“You’re
still scared,” he said.

His
breath was so sweet-smelling. It made me relax even more as he talked. I didn’t
feel scared, but he must have felt it somewhere at the back of my mind.

“I
don’t know why you’re not.”

“I
know it will be okay. What you have to do – I know it will hurt, but how did
you put it? I’m a tough guy?”

It
should have made me laugh that he was using my words against me, but instead,
my eyes had filled up with tears again, and he became blurry in my vision.

“Shhh.
Please don’t cry. Just try to get some sleep.” He was more concerned about me
than himself. I could feel his hand reach across and wipe away the tears that
had run down my cheeks, even as he pulled against the broken ribs, wincing
again at the pain. His soft hand against my face was gentle, yet I couldn’t
watch him hurt himself to comfort me. If anyone needed comfort tonight, it was
him. I pulled his hand away with mine, holding it against his chest. I could
feel his thumb rubbing against the back of my hand. His voice continued to
shush me in a soft whisper, his breath intoxicating and relaxing, his face so
close to mine. As much as I fought against sleep, his voice was soothing. The
warmth of his skin was like a blanket around me; my eyes closed, and I felt
myself drifting away. It was the most peaceful sleep I’d had in days.

*****

My
first reaction was that I had fallen into a hot tub while asleep. The heat
around me was intense, and I felt sweat rolling down my face. I had forgotten
where I was, until I felt Job’s chest straining for some reason. I finally opened
my eyes, and it seemed as though every muscle in his body had tensed up. I yanked
my hand back from the fire of his skin, afraid that it would blister if I left
it there. I wasn’t sure if he was having a seizure or if this was the embolism
Sally had warned me about. His head was thrown back, his jaw clenched tight. He
was fighting pain again, but trying to keep it as silent as possible. I wasn’t
sure what was causing it, but I wanted to find a way to stop it.

“Job?
Look at me. Please? Tell me what’s wrong.” I hid the panic I was feeling. I
didn’t know if he could even hear me, and I placed my hand on his chest again,
to let him know I was there. His skin was blazing hot, like it had been before,
when he had the fever. The heat made it hard for me to keep my hand there, but
I had no desire to let go.

“It
– hurts. It won’t – stop.” He could barely say anything, and the little he had
been able to get out was strained. His eyes were shut tight, and he began
crying out with the pain.

“What
hurts? You have to tell me. I can try to help.” I wasn’t sure if there was
anything I could do. He quickly stifled his moans with deep, laborious breaths,
holding it back in.

“My–
leg. It hurts.” He continued breathing deeply in an attempt to fend off the
sounds of agony that still threatened to escape him.

I
was confused by what he was saying. Before I had fallen asleep, he couldn’t
feel anything below his knee, but now he was wracked with unimaginable agony. I
looked down to the foot of the bed, expecting to see the blue skin as before.
At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. The color had returned
to his toes and foot, and circulation had started back up. I couldn’t believe
what I was witnessing. I didn’t want to leave his side, but I had to look
closer, to make sure I hadn’t lost my mind.

Yanking
the towel away, I could see the bruising was still the same as before, with
ugly deep purple covering almost all of it. The swelling, however, was all but
gone, except for a knot where the fractures were. Somehow, the pressure had
ceased on its own, but the force of the blood rushing back into the rest of his
limb had set it on fire, causing him to fight off piercing screams. Now that I
knew the reason, I only wanted to stay by him till it passed.

In
the short time it took me to examine him, the pain had already seemed to lessen,
and even though he still gritted his teeth, he was finally able to breathe a
bit easier. His skin was still hot to the touch, but it was gradually coming
back to normal. I put my arm across his chest, cupping his face in my hand,
hoping that he could feel me near him. I kept telling him it would be ok and
that it would pass, but I wasn’t sure how long it would take.

I
put my head back against his shoulder and waited till I could feel the muscles
under me begin to relax. His breathing had returned to normal, but the
occasional deep breath would take me by surprise, expecting the entire process
to start again. After minutes had passed, he had calmed enough to release the
tension in his neck, bringing his head back down. Sweat drenched his bare skin,
and I could feel it against my side, soaking through my shirt. I had been
shocked that he hadn’t passed out, like he had before.

I
still had my hand resting on his cheek, hoping that he would be able to give me
some insight to what had happened. I wondered if this had been a fluke, and we
were back to the same predicament, or if, by some miracle, he had just avoided
having to be subjected to the knife in the morning.

“Are
you okay now? Do you need anything?”

“A
towel…would be nice” He was exhausted after the marathon his body had just put
him through.

I
grabbed the towel that had been used to hide his hideous leg for the last
couple of days. He wiped away the sweat on his face, and I took over, dabbing
his upper body till it looked like he was dry.

He
looked so tired, I didn’t want to keep asking him questions and keep him awake.
I could see that not all the pain had gone, and he winced as he forced a smile,
flashing his teeth.

“I
told you I would be ok.” There some secret he was keeping from me, but I wasn’t
going to question him and have him retreat back to silence. I would wait and
find out soon enough.

I
sat up and pulled myself away from the warmth, feeling a chill across my skin, noticing
my shirt had become saturated by his perspiration. By the time I had turned
around, he had already closed his eyes, and I could hear his soft snores as he
fell asleep quickly. I still didn’t want to leave, but thought it was better
not to disturb him. I could always see him in the morning, and any day after
that.

The
entire night had all been a dream. I had never been so vile to Job. The
sickness that overcame me at dinner because I had learned the hideous truth
never happened. There was no reconciliation and there was no midnight miracle.
All of the lies and the anger and guilt had just been a figment of my
imagination, created to give me a way to cope with the morning.

I
could hear Sally’s voice trying to wake me from the comfort of the couch,
sounding too shrill and full of life for my liking. It should have been heavy
and depressing, the way I was feeling. In an effort to delay her, I buried my
head deep under the worn blanket, attempting to ignore her as long as I could.
Maybe she would have to call Chase to take my place; I would be alright with
that.

The
blanket was torn away from my face. Sally had opened the shades, letting in
blinding light, forcing me to hold my hand across my face till my eyes could
adjust. I could feel the abrasiveness of the bandage on my wrist run across my
cheek. I looked down at it, squinting against the glaring sun, to confirm that what
I was feeling wasn’t a dream. The white was bright against my pale skin, but it
was real. The bracelet on the coffee table, still dazzling its copper
reflection, spotted with drops of blood, lay broken in the same place it was
set the previous night. It all had been so surreal.

“Do
you want some good news?” Sally was close to my face, grinning from ear to ear,
so excited she looked like she might pop at any moment.

“I
already know.”

There
should have been more excitement in my voice, but I was still having a hard
time waking myself after a stress-filled night. The pounding in my head felt
similar to a hangover from too much partying the night before. My mind still
needed time to recuperate, and my brain needed caffeine in the worst way.

“Why
didn’t you call me? I was so worried all weekend. I didn’t think anything I
tried would work, but I guess I was wrong.”

“Yeah,
sorry about that. I wasn’t sure until late last night. I didn’t want to call
you and wake you up.”

I
was getting used to telling lies. Whatever secret Job was keeping, I figured it
was up to him to tell her when he was ready. There would be no reason for me to
give her an excuse to pry into his matters and shut him down again. “How is he
doing? Did he say anything to you?”

“He
didn’t say anything, but he never does. He seems to only want to talk to you.”
Her smile faded, and a look of puzzlement replaced it. “I will have to say that
I’m amazed, though. His side was almost completely healed when I checked it,
and I was able to take the stitches out. His ribs also seem to be fine now.
Almost everything is back to normal. It’s like he just healed himself
overnight.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her that in fact he had.

“So
does that mean he has to leave?” There was disappointment in my voice. As much
as I was happy to hear he was doing so much better, I didn’t want to see him go
so soon. I had begun to enjoy his company, and wasn’t sure what I would do
without him here.

“No.
Oh no. Not even close. I said almost everything. The swelling in his leg did a
number on it. He’s out of the woods, but it delayed healing. The bones should
have joined together, but I’m not sure they have, and there is some major nerve
damage to his foot that may or may not go away. It’s going to be a while before
he’s able to get up and go anywhere.”

I
knew I was being selfish, but I tried to hide the relief I was feeling inside
by looking as concerned as possible. I wasn’t sure it was working, since the
smile on Sally’s face came back, giving me a look as though she knew something
that I hadn’t figured out.

“So
do I get the next week off too, since he still, well, needs help?” I was hoping
she would say yes, but it was going to be a stretch to get another week out of
her. I knew that we were booked for the next two weeks, due to the vacationers
trying to capture the last few days of summer.

“You
start back tomorrow, but I will give you a mid-shift so you can get him what he
needs before you come in. I need you on the weekends for sure, so would having
Wednesday and Thursday off work for you?”

I
loved working the ten to six shift as much as I loved the thought of having a
root canal. It always meant I was the last person to see the guests before they
checked out and usually the first for the new arrivals. I normally would have
begged for anything else, so as not to gag at every sappy couple that walked
through the door, but it was better than falling asleep at the desk. Job seemed
to enjoy later nights, so it fit his schedule better, as well.

“It
works for me.”

I
stood up to get started on breakfast, but my stomach lurched, reminding me of
the events it had been through. It seemed to bring back my headache, making it
pound even harder than before. I hadn’t eaten in a while, and what food I had gotten
down hadn’t stayed there long. I knew if I could just get breakfast, both the
headache and my nausea would pass, but managing to get to the kitchen would be
a chore in itself. Sally could see my struggle and insisted I sit back down and
let her get it. I didn’t want to fight her over it and sat back down, waiting
for the throbbing in my temples to pass.

My
throat was raw and burned from the acid that had made its way up the night
before, and the instant oatmeal helped to soothe it. I skipped the orange juice,
knowing it would have the opposite effect, opting instead for a hot cup of
coffee. Within minutes, the pain had settled and I was able to go about my
morning as usual. Sally had left a second bowl steaming on the counter for Job.
She could have taken it to him at any time, but had left it up to me.

“Chase
called me this morning. He told me what happened last night. I’m sorry I made
you go out with Derrick. I had no idea he was behind everything.” Her
apologetic eyes still had a fury in them over what she had heard.

As
much as I knew in my heart that the answer would be no, I asked anyways. “Tell
me he’s going to pay for this. He can’t get away with what he did.”

“Emily,
as much as I would like to see that happen, we both know if we turn him in, we
would be turning in Job, as well. Do you want that?”

“No,”
I said, distraught that I would have to choose my battles. I couldn’t lose Job
yet.

She
could see that the choice we were making was eating at me, and finally changed
the subject to take my mind off of what couldn’t be fixed.

“By
the way, I went out and bought a comforter and sheet set, since I figured yours
would be ruined. I have yours in the wash right now, and already put the new
one on his bed downstairs.”

“But
how did you get them on if he’s not able to get up?” The thought of how she had
achieved such a feat was beyond me, but it helped me forget about the previous
conversation.

“Nursing
secret. I can change a bed without him getting up. I’ll have to show you how
sometime. Since I’m not needed, I think I’ll go and let you two have some alone
time.” She threw me a wink.

I
couldn’t help but to roll my eyes at her. She was getting the wrong idea. I
questioned whether she was telling me the truth when she said he didn’t say
anything, or if she had noticed the extra space where I had curled up next to
him. I told myself I had only spent part of the night with him out of concern
and friendship. I wondered if either one of them was reading a bit more into
this than was actually there, or if I was having doubts about my own feelings.
It was something I would have to give a lot more thought to before it became an
issue down the road.

After
the door closed, I grabbed Job’s oatmeal, along with the orange juice that I
hadn’t touched, and headed down to the dank basement that had become his home.
The smell of must and age filled my nostrils. I half expected to see his smile
when I arrived, but he didn’t look like he was in the mood for cheery welcomes.

He
was fixated on his foot, concentrating with a pained expression on his face. His
leg had been propped back up, and already the deep bruising had begun to fade
and return to some semblance of normalcy. The splint was still gone, and I
assumed that she didn’t want to risk this happening again. I could see him
straining every muscle in his body, gripping the sheets, holding his breath –
then stopping within seconds, panting and giving himself a break before
attempting whatever he was doing again.

“What
are you trying to do?” I was confused at the extraordinary effort he was
putting into whatever he thought he could make his foot do.

“I
can’t move it.”

He
seemed frustrated and tried again, with the same effect. Each time exhausted
him more as he pushed the threshold of pain he could endure.

“You’re
not supposed to. Sally said you’re supposed to keep it still.”

“But
I can’t move my toes. They won’t bend.” He tried again, this time nearly
passing out.

“Please,
just stop. If this is how you are going to spend your free time, then I’ll just
leave. I’m not going to sit and watch you hurt yourself on purpose.”

He
finally stopped, leaning his head back, catching his breath, winded from the
exercise.

“It
should be better. I don’t know why it’s not. I don’t understand. Everything
else–”

“It’s
called healing. I’m not sure what you did last night, but unless you can do it
again, you’re going to have to wait like the rest of us.”

I
assumed whatever act he had achieved before was a one night only performance.
Even though he was finished, he still didn’t look pleased. He had crossed his
arms and was staring at me with a scowl on his face. I didn’t know if it was
for me or just from the frustration. I could already tell this day was not
shaping up to be fun.

 “Well,
good morning to you, too.” I was smiling, giving him as much sarcasm as I could,
hoping it would lighten the mood. He seemed to respond, cracking a smile but
keeping his arms tightly crossed, letting me know he was still upset at
something. I set the bowl down in his lap, hoping it would invite him to drop
the attitude and open up to some real conversation. I sat down in my chair and
waited for his response. It didn’t take long for him to take the spoon and
shovel in bites of oatmeal, filling his cheeks like a chipmunk, till everything
was gone. I half expected him to lick the bowl clean in the process. He hadn’t
eaten in over a day, and his appetite had returned with a vengeance.

 “Do
you want me to get you some more?”

He
shook his head no while he tried to swallow everything he had stuffed in. I
handed him the orange juice still in my hand. He took it and gulped it down
almost as fast as the food he had just inhaled. I had never seen anyone eat
like he did, as if someone would steal his food at any moment. I could only assume
it had to do with years of never having enough, or having to fight over it in
camps. I wanted to tell him he would never have to worry about food again, but
the habit had more than likely been ingrained into him.

“So
other than the fact you’re an invalid for a while, what’s got you upset?”

Once
again, he didn’t look pleased at the mention of his current condition and shot
me an evil look.

“I’m
tired of not knowing how to say things to you,” he said. “I understand what you
tell me, but I get stuck and it’s…it’s…”

“Embarrassing?”
I knew the word he was looking for, but finishing his sentence for him made him
turn his head away from me, ashamed he couldn’t even tell me how he was
feeling.

“I
don’t care if you know the word. I can teach you – if you want?”

There
was a brief hesitation as he thought about it. He finally looked up at me and quietly
said, “Yes.”

I
knew the other reason he was embarrassed, from last night’s events. He had been
hiding the fact of his feelings for me since the day of his arrival, and his
fear of expressing them, along with not knowing how to, had gotten in the way. I
was already trying to think of ways to help him with everything he wanted to
say. I wasn’t sure how he could learn more without him asking. He had already
picked up so many of my habits, and I could see that I was rubbing off on him.
He would now roll his eyes or give me sarcastic looks. As much as I enjoyed
having a parrot, I wanted him to be himself, even if he didn’t know who that
was yet.

“So.
I know I call you Job, but what was your name before? Maybe I can call you that
instead?”

“Job
is fine. You wouldn’t be able to say it. You wouldn’t be able to…” He had
gotten stuck yet again.

“Pronounce
it?” I quickly filled in. “Just tell me and I can try?”

I
had failed miserably in Spanish in high school and wasn’t sure if I would ever
figure out a different language. Learning his name would at least be a nice
gesture, and I was willing to give it a try, so as not to have to call him by a
name he was forced to take.

He
opened his mouth, but no decipherable words came out. He emitted a loud
cracking noise, similar to a television channel that had been changed to snow.
It was quick, but he had been right. There would be no way I was going to say
it.