Forever Checking (Checked Series Book 3) (8 page)

Can’t respond.

No breathing. Sweater stuck to my back.

“Stay with me, Callie. Stay with me.”

Eyes closing. Neck rolling downward.

{Sam Smith takes over with
“St—”
}

My knees weaken, popping out and—

AMMONIA. UNDER MY NOSE.

Arms squeezing around me. His arms.

My face mashed against a shirt, a chest. His shirt. His chest.

{Sam Smith.}

My arms dangling. Free. The band, the tourniquet thing—gone.

Legs. Not doing anything functional. Not holding me up.

He is holding me up. He is holding me. He—

“Callie? Callie? Are you with me?”

I’m with you. I’m with you. I’m with you.

“Callie?”

I force out some sort of affirmative noise, my mouth moving against his chest. The warmth of his—

“Okay. We are going to try to get you into your chair.” He whispers. “I’m going to lean you back, but I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”

He’s got me.

My body starts moving backwards, downwards, but my face stays on his chest. His arms keep squeezing.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Callie.”

Back. Back. Back. Ba—

I land in my seat. Gently.

His chest pulls away from my cheek. His arms stop holding me.

But he doesn’t go far. He leans down and catches my gaze before kneeling right in front of my chair. Right in front of me. On the dirt—

“I promise that I’ll switch pants and wash these ones as soon as we get out of here.” He grabs my hands and…and smiles.

And…and I know he’s in my head again. And I know that gets annoying. But still, it’s nice that he knows. Understands.

{Sam Smith gets louder and loud—}

“Honey, you relax for now.” Judy. Judy is talking from somewhere nearby.

I forgot about Judy’s presence. Her existence.

“Relax, honey. You just let me know when you are ready for me to try again.”

WHAT?

My back pushes my whole body forward, ready to leap out of the—

“Hold on.” Him. He gently squeezes my hands and starts to press me back into the chair.

I try to push him away. But I can’t get up. Out.

My mouth flies open. “No. I’m not—”

“Callie, no…no, you’re not.” He puts his hands on my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. “You aren’t trying again right now.”

His eyes. Warm. Reassuring. His hands. Same.

Okay. Okay. Okay.

My eyes fall closed in relief. In exhaustion.

They aren’t going to make me try again. Judy is not going to tie that thing around my arm again or—

OR.

OR do other things that I don’t want to think about. So—

Still holding my cheeks, he speaks again. “Judy, we will try again soon. But not now. Definitely not now. Thanks—”

He keeps saying words to her, to Judy, to the person who wants to put a needle under my—

NO. Do not think about it. Do not think about it. Do not think about it.

Think about his hands. On your cheeks.

On you.

But he just said “soon.” When is “soon”? And where is “soon”? Will Judy be coming here again or—

Well, if she’s coming here again, I’m never coming here again. Because I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t. I—

“Callie? Callie?” His hands press into my cheeks, shaking my head slightly. “Callie?”

One. Two. Three.

Eyes open.

His eyes. Right here. Concern and relief all swirled together.

“Let’s get you home so you can take a shower before class.”

I nod. Okay. Sounds good. Okay.

His hands fall from my cheeks as he stands up in front of me.

“All right. I want you to get up slowly.” He extends his arms, his hands, so they hang in front of him. “And I want you to hold on to me.”

My hands reach for his and he—

He smiles. Big smile. “I’ll keep my dirty knees away from you.”

He pulls me up to a standing position, a standing position extremely close to his standing position. My body starts to weaken for an entirely differ—

He whispers. So quietly. “For now.”

My cheeks start to flush. I know they do. I—

“I’m ready now.” The nurse. Judy. I forgot about her. Again.

My eyes flicker away from him, over to Judy. She’s coming out of the bathroom, a bag in her hand.

I wonder if that’s where she put the nee—

“Let’s get your purse. Walk slowly.”

He lets go of my left hand and tugs my right hand toward the area behind his desk, toward my purse hook.

My feet move naturally. My knees, legs, moving better than I thought they would. I grab my purse, and we head out of his office, my hand in his. And Judy a couple of steps behind us.

Just me with my doctor, not doctor…um…boyfriend, not boyfriend, and our nurse, the woman who just tried to stick a—

Callie!

We move together out of his office, down the twisty hallway, through the waiting room, to the parking lot, and finally into his car. Well, Judy doesn’t get into his car.

Thank God.

She and her needle bag get into—of course—the little red, BLOOD-colored car that I saw earlier.

Talk about foreshadowing.

{Sam Smith fades out. Snow Patrol plunges in with “
Chasing Cars
.”}

His car. It’s silent. Naturally.

{Keep singing to me, Snow Patrol. Otherwise, the silence might just drive me crazy. Ironic, huh?}

He drives back toward my house, down familiar roads once more. I thi—

“This is for you.” He pulls a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and holds it out for me.

“What is it?” I ask as I take the paper from his fingers…and as I pray that it’s not, I don’t know, a lab slip to go get blood work done on my own at the hospital or, um, an e-ticket for a flight to another out-of-town conference or, ah, a note that says “I know about the music” or—

“It’s a copy of my results, my blood work results.”

Oh.

I unfold the paper in my hands, knowing that no—

“Everything’s fine. All of the tests were negative.” He pauses. Then starts again. “All of these results were from weeks ago, so if you want me to get it all done again this—”

“No.” I look over at him, shaking my head. “I trust you. You don’t have anything.”

He glances over at me for a second before returning his eyes to the road. “You don’t have anything either, Callie.”

My shoulders shrug. My head turns to look out of my passenger side window. My mind, it begins to spin through a list of diseases that I’ve probably acquired over the years. Malaria. Ebola. Tuberculosis. AIDS. A bunch of other diseases that I can’t even name. All acquired in various ways. People spitting while talking to me. Being near Tony. Sitting through my last summer haircut. Standing too close to some of Mandy’s sorority sis—

“I want—no, I need you to try to believe that, Callie. You have to be willing to believe that you are fine, willing to believe that you really aren’t contracting new diseases on a daily basis. Otherwise…”

He pauses and drives. Silent now.

I finish for him. Quietly. “Otherwise, the therapy won’t work.”

“No. It won’t.”

My head stares straight ahead, pointed now toward the front window. My eyes, however, sneak a sideways glance at him.

He’s not looking at me. He’s looking at the road. Head and eyes. Probably thinking about how I’m screwing up his therapy. How I’m completely ruining it. Or—

Or maybe he’s thinking about my test results. Maybe he wants me to have them before we, well, do anything else together.

That’s fair. He did it for me. I have his results. Clean results.

Maybe he’s afraid that mine won’t be so clean. Maybe he’s afraid that I’ll give him some horrible disease that will kill him and then kill me. Maybe—

{A full orchestra. Tchaikovsky’s “
Romeo and Juliet
.”}

Maybe I really do have a serious dis—

“Callie?” His head moves to look my way for a second. I see it out of the corner of my eye. “Stop worrying. We’ll figure this out and try the blood work again at some other time.”

I don’t want to try it at some other time. Not at all.

Can’t they just test my spit or my tears or something? If that would work, I’d probably get myself tested every single—

“I just really want you to believe that you are okay. I think believing that will remove a great burden from you.”

He turns into my driveway.
{The orchestra plays on.}

The car stops. He gets out to open my door, taking my hand as I step out of the car. Just like he is taking me home after a date. If people go for blood work on dates…

I didn’t actually get blood work done today, though. But I have to at some—

Callie! Stop thinking about it.

But “some other time” could be any—

Callie!

 
Soon.
He told Judy that it will be—

“Thanks for driving me home.” I make my mouth, my out loud words, interrupt my mind.

{Ed Sheeran cuts in with “
Thinking Out Loud
.” But I’m not speaking my thoughts. I’m speaking to try to stop myself from thinking. That isn’t—}

“No problem, Callie.” As we take the final steps to my door, he squeezes my hand. Squeezes a warm tingly feeling from my hand to my—

“And so you know…” He stops and turns toward me on my doorstep.

Eyes on eyes. Hand still squeezing. Tingly feeling. Still.

“I’m not worried about your blood test results.” He pauses, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Heatedly. “Or waiting on them.”

So he’s reading my mind again, or my mind from like three minutes ago anyway. But he’s doing it in a hot way. So it’s hard to get mad.

He starts to lean in. In. In.

{Ed Sheeran gets louder.}

His lips sweep across mine ever so slightly. Ever so not enough. He pulls back and looks at me, still holding my fingers in his.

“I wish that you didn’t have class. And that I didn’t have work.”

“Me too,” I whisper.

I also wish I weren’t bleeding.
{THANK GOD I’m not blurting my thoughts out loud like you are, Ed Sheeran. Because, seriously—}

A phone rings.
My
phone rings. He lets go of my hand so I can reach into my purse to see who is—

It’s Melanie.

“It’s Melanie.”

{Well, okay, maybe we’re a little on the same page, Ed.}

“You take it. I’ve got to get to work anyway, and you have to get ready for class. I’ll talk to you soon.”

A smile. Another brush of his lips, this time on my cheek. Another tingle running through me.

And he heads to his car. As I watch him go, I answer my call. “Hey, Mel. How are you feeling today?”

“Much better. But Doug still insists that I rest today.”

“Good. You need to rest.”

His car pulls away. I open my front door and slip my shoes off on my shoe towel as Melanie tells me the Abby plan for today.

“Okay, well, Mandy will watch Abby until you get back from class. She’ll feed her lunch, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Sounds good, Mel.” I head to the kitchen to wash my hands.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something. What else should I send along with her? What—”

“Stop worrying, Melanie.” I cradle the phone with my neck and shoulder and begin soaping up my hands. “You are supposed to be calm, remember?” Soap. Soap. Soap.

“I know. It’s just—”

“Stop, Mel. Everything will be fine.” Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. “Relax and watch a movie or play Words with Friends or something.” That is how people relax…from what I’ve been told…

“I will. But first I want to know how your after-hours therapy is going.” Teasing. Lots of teasing in her voice.

Rinse. Rinse. Rinse. “It’s fine, Mel. I’m not better yet, though, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She laughs.

“That’s not what I’m asking. I just want to know if you’ve told Dr. Blake that you are in love with him yet.”

“Melanie!” Dry. Dry. Dry.

 “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’” She laughs again. “I just thought that maybe you had since your therapy appointments seem to be, um, somewhat like high school make out sessions.”

So clearly Mandy has talked to Melanie recently. About me. About us. About last night.

Last night…in his arms. Close to—

“Seriously, though, you should tell him, Callie. He obviously feels the same way about you.”

Obviously? He hasn’t said anything about it. He hasn’t—

“Callie? Are you there?”

“I’m still here.”

“I take it you don’t want to talk about your, as Mandy calls it, ‘burning passion’ for the hot doctor.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh as I head to the hallway closet for the Lysol. “That’s right, Mel.”

“Fine. Mandy will just have to keep me posted.”

Back to the towel by the front door. “I’m sure she will.” Shoe disinfecting. Shoe spraying. “Now go rest, Melanie.”

“I’m going to. Thanks for taking care of Abby today.”

“Of course.” Lysol back to hall closet. “Talk to you later. Bye.”

“Bye, Callie.”

I hang up and head back to the kitchen to wash my hands again. My eyes catch the time on the microwave clock. 9:27 a.m.

I don’t have much time.

Upstairs for an
I’m bleeding
extra bath (which is also a bath to wash off the experience I just had at his office, the experience I don’t even want to think about), some
I’m bleeding
extra lotion, and an
I already
picked off all of my nail polish today
nail painting session.

Jeans and another sweater on. Leaving-the-house routine. Black pumps back on.

10:43 a.m. Off to class to write poetry about something stupid, no doubt.

3:15 P.M. BACK HOME.

Abby and I have been playing Barbies for an hour. Actually, Abby probably played with them while I was at class, so she’s been Barbie-playing for like three hours.

I don’t blame her. Picking out outfits, dressing the perfectly shaped Barbie bodies, combing shiny, fake hair—it’s so mindless. So relaxing. Maybe I should get some of my own Barbies…