Page 50 of Where You Are
“Then… thanks, I guess,” reluctantly showing appreciation for how he thrust my foot in cold salt water before.
“You didn’t half-ass it though,” he adds, reaching for the pouch.
“Great,” I muse flatly.
“So this will be a fun vacation story for your friends, right?” His tone is oddly snide, like he’s got something against tourists; orpeoplefor that matter. I wince as he goes to work disinfecting my cut and the antiseptic he sprays sets off another round of stinging fire that makes my eyes water to the point of leaking down my cheeks.
“I’m noton vacation,” I grind out between clenched teeth, partly from the pain and partly to give attitude right back to him. After this day, I can be a shit too. Something in my tone must have gotten his attention because he looks up, finally showing me big brown eyes that regard me with some kind of interest. Their appearance is short-lived however, when they drift back down to his task, and he dabs at my cut and I draw in a deep, labored breath to fight off the sob threatening to escape. This day can go to hell, right along with the two hundred or so preceding it.
“Sorry, I know it hurts,” he mumbles. His eyes have gone back to avoiding mine but I notice they’ve softened ever so slightly.
“I’ve had worse pain,” I return softly, and his eyes come up to mine again, this time holding on like they don’t want to let go; like they want to tell me something. I sit there looking back at him, not feeling anything but curiosity in what he could have on his mind. Those eyes are the strangest combination of empty and full I’ve ever seen. After a moment of not saying anything however, it reaches a new level of awkward and I turn away, directing my gaze everywhere but him. I look at all the names of boats, something that’s always fascinated me. I’ve never known why people name their boats other than some old rumor that it’s bad luck not to. And it’s always intrigued me what leads a person to name their boat what they do. It prompts me to turn back to him.
“What’s your boat’s name?” I ask out of the blue, not sure why, seeing as how this guy and I seem to have a mutual desire for minimal socialization.
He falters in his movements briefly before recovering and continuing his handiwork.
“Why?” he grunts. His surliness seems to have returned quickly.
“Never mind,” I grumble back, looking away again.
“So what are you doing here if you’re not on vacation?” he asks, his tone borderline condescending. What the fuck is his problem?
“You don’t have to share, neither do I.” I know I’m being petty; I just don’t seem to have the energy to be polite to someone who’s not being friendly with me. Being callous is easier right now.
“That’s fine,” he chimes back, placing a piece of gauze over my war wound. “I don’t care anyway.” We’re like a couple of petulant four-year-olds. I shrug and give an annoyed eye roll as he wraps tape around my foot, to hold the gauze in place.
“You’re good to go,” he tells me, looking down as he throws supplies back in his first aid pouch. I slide my foot off his knee and check out the neat, clean bandage job.
“Thank you,” is all I say quietly as I move to stand, bracing my hands on the arms of the chair.
“Are you staying far away?” he asks, his eyes still refusing to meet mine.
“Thought you didn’t care,” I point out, halting my ascent.
“Not really,” he shakes me off, trying to act like he didn’t just let his indifference slip. “It’s going to be hard for you to walk back though. Can you call someone to come help you?”
Because apparently his help people quotient has reached its limit.
“Don’t have a phone with me,” I inform him, finally making it to a standing position and gingerly experimenting putting weight on my injured foot, wincing from the effort. I don’t tell him that I pretty much don’t have a phone, period. I have a burner phone for when I want to call my dad or Sarah and let them know I’m not dead. “Have you got one?” I ask, looking up at him. Even though I’d rather be alone, I could call Sasha just to set his mind at ease.
“No,” he answers.
I scoff in disbelief. “People must have a blast trying to get ahold of you.”
“No one needs to get ahold of me,” he returns, firm and plain and it makes my heart drop which is surprising; I didn’t think it could sink any further tonight. I just couldn’t help but hear the sadness lying way down deep in his tone; so far that no one could probably detect it, except for someone who feels that way themselves. I immediately think back to how his eyes looked - full, with so much emotion, yet empty of them as well. And all of a sudden, I can’t help myself.
“Or if they do, they just scream bloody murder, right?” I joke, placing a hand on my chest. While my soul just wants to be a black pit right now, I guess a tiny blink of sunlight is still down in there somewhere. Maybe this is one of those moments where there’s just nothing else to do but kid. Or maybe my subconscious is using humor to deflect. Who the hell knows? But the thing is, I see his shoulders tremble just a tiny bit, and one side of his closed mouth tries to pull up but he looks down, probably trying to hide it. Probably trying to fight it too. But whatever, good to know we’re not both dead inside.
“I’ll be fine,” I curtly assure him as I gimp my way over to the dock, which takes forever on my bum foot. I cut it in just the right place where I can’t put much pressure on any part of it but my toes. Mr. Personality watches my cautious gait and slow-as-shit pace before letting out a resigned sigh.
“It’s going to take you forever to get home - or to where you’re staying.”
“It’s okay. The fresh air will do me good,” I throw cynically over my shoulder. “Besides, I can tell I’ve imposed on you enough.” I brace a hand on each side of the boat rails and swing myself over to the dock and only wobble slightly on my good foot when I land. He grunts out another sigh and follows me. “I’m really fine, you don’t have to-”
“You’re a woman, walking alone at night with no phone and you can’t run. I’m an asshole, but not a complete one,” he states, stepping over onto the dock.
“This isn’t the States, it’s not that dangerous.”