Page 46 of Love at First Sighting

Carter

The last time I woke up in the hospital, I had no idea where I was.

Everything hurt, and the only person there was a very nice nurse named Angela, who looked at me with immense sympathy, even if I didn’t know why yet.

I can’t imagine it’s easy to tell a ten-year-old his only parent is dead and explain why no one else is there when he wakes up or coming to see him.

This time, I know exactly where I am. There’s a monotonous beeping, the distant echo of voices, and a chiming intercom telling Dr. Ellory they’re needed in the NICU.

There is no nurse named Angela keeping vigil at my side, but there is one very sleepy El resting poorly in a hospital chair, her fingers woven between mine.

The one thing that’s the same is that my body hurts and I really want more drugs.

I also want to take this stupid little oxygen tube out of my nose.

It looks to be somewhere before dawn, based on the hazy blue-and-orange sky coming in through our window. It’s well outside any normal visiting hours, and I wonder how she swung that one, but I know better than to underestimate El.

I don’t remember much between seeing her handcuff Marcus in the world’s most awkward position and waking up now.

I remember blips of memories, shrouded in delirious haze and pain.

A blare of sirens. El frantically answering questions, never letting go of my hand as I drifted in and out of consciousness.

El rattling off a long list of charges she thinks the police should file against Marcus.

El pleading with the paramedics to let her stay with me as long as possible.

No, it was more than that.

Please. Let me stay with him. I am his family.

She’s right. There are no parents to call, and my emergency contact is probably going to be sitting in the slammer for a while. However, there is one girl who is so many different things and makes up for so many different people missing in my life, whether she knows it or not.

Right now, just having her feels like enough.

I can get to work on healing the rest of me later.

El shifts when I do and rubs her eyes, wincing as she bumps her bandaged-up hand. She shakes off sleep like she didn’t mean to doze off. When she realizes I’m awake, her eyes fill with tears and she smiles.

“Hi,” she says with a yawn.

I tighten my grip on her uninjured hand as much as I can. “Hi.”

“How do you feel?”

I shrug, but even that hurts. There’s a tight tug where bandages are wrapped around my torso, which is numb enough that I don’t suffer the full extent of the pain, but I feel like I’m weighed down by an anchor.

My head is still throbbing and the bruising along the side of my face is going to be all kinds of scary colors.

“This is not going to rank highly on my list of favorite days ever.”

She shakes her head. “Not mine, either.”

El’s thumb brushes along the back of my hand, minding the space where the IV is taped. I would like to take it out and go home, but I know that is definitely against the rules.

“How about you?” I ask. “Are you okay?”

“Nine stitches in my hand isn’t so much fun. It might not be great for the optics, you know. But I guess that’s what Photoshop’s for, right?” I can’t tell if there’s a genuine sadness in her voice or just exhaustion, but if it’s anything close to what I’m feeling, I understand.

Everything I’ve done for fifteen years was to get me to exactly where I am now, and all that time, I fantasized about it.

I imagined maybe a cool victory in a court case, cracking open a beer and celebrating, visiting my parents’ graves to tell them I’d finally done it.

I didn’t picture this many tubes or wires, or the empty feeling in my heart that’s only abated by the girl sitting next to me.

I definitely don’t have a job anymore.

And I’m going to have a lot of medical bills.

“It’s okay. We’ll kind of match now,” I say.

She blushes and gives me a sleepy smile.

I dream about going home, curling up in bed, and sleeping into another day with her at my side.

Then, when I’m all healed, we’ll do what we planned to do all along: start over.

I don’t know how, but maybe it’ll just come to us.

El eases herself out of her chair and takes a seat on the edge of my bed. She’s wearing the same yoga pants she was wearing last night, flecks of dried blood still staining the dark fabric. However, now she’s bundled in a gaudy I LA hoodie from the hospital gift shop.

I swallow. “You know, I think it’s safe to say Marcus doesn’t like me that much.”

El’s eyes soften, like she knows she has to step in and make up for all I’ve lost. She nods. “Yeah, I think you might be right about that.”

“What happened with him?” I finally ask.

“Arrested. Not sure what they plan to charge him with. I recommended assault and attempted murder—”

“Oh, I heard.”

“—and conspiracy and treason, but I don’t know if they’re going to listen to me.

But…I don’t think he’s going to be seeing much outside of a jail cell for a long time.

I handed over your dad’s file. Officers said they’d go over the contents with us when you were discharged and they were getting ready for the trial.

But…your dad made a great point. Always have a backup. ”

El slips her phone out of her hoodie pouch and shows me the photos she took of the most important pages. Then she stops at one. It’s a Post-it note at the back of the manila folder with a note left behind in my dad’s handwriting.

Mission accomplished, little agent.

“Don’t worry,” El says. “We’ll make sure to get the actual note back.”

I nod slowly, swallowing the tears building in the back of my throat.

I can’t help but feel proud of myself because I did all the things everyone tried to keep me from doing.

Despite all the obstacles put in my way.

But the wound feels particularly present right now.

I think it’s a sign that now it can finally start healing. “Good.”

“And us…Well”—she raises her eyebrows—“we’re going to have to wait and see, but the cops didn’t seem too quick to throw either of us in handcuffs. My lawyer’s handling it. He’s good. Trust me.”

“Great.”

“You know, Marcus never deserved your love.” Her voice is blunt and final, and she’s not going to be talked out of this.

“It’s not your fault for trusting him or not seeing this coming.

It’s not like you had anything else to hold on to.

But I don’t want you to spend another day doing that. You deserve so much more.”

“I have more,” I say. “Now I do.”

She pushes a few strands of hair out of my face and kisses the uninjured side of my head.

“I love you,” she says. When she says it, it sounds like a new beginning.

And it sounds like something I’m not afraid to say back.

Years and years of holding feelings in, and now they can pour out with abandon.

I see plenty of word vomit in my future, but if it’s dousing her in love and affection, I think she might be okay with it.

El should know I love her with or without filters. Sponsored content or not. Picture perfect or candid.

“I love you, too.”

She works her way down the side of my face before finally finding my lips.

Mine are dry and cracked, but she tastes like minty gum and cherry-sweet lip gloss.

I hope the stupid heart monitor doesn’t start to beep furiously and expose me as sad and horny.

She whispers “I love you” between each kiss, and each time, it feels like it’s putting me back together.

“So, what’s next for you?” I ask. “Have you checked in and posted from the hospital yet?”

She blushes and rolls her eyes. “No. These are not optimal engagement hours.”

“Didn’t stop you the first night we met.” I raise an eyebrow and she giggles. “How are you even here? These aren’t visiting hours, either.”

She shrugs, pleased with herself. “I got all your nurses free FabFitFun boxes. I get to stay as long as I like.”

I laugh, and despite the jolt of pain it sends through my body, it feels like the best thing in the world. Her smile is bright and heavy with sleepy delirium as she squeezes my hand again.

“But seriously, there are far more important things than posting right about now. I think over the next couple of weeks, it’s going to be a little quiet.

I’ll be busy enough taking care of you while you recover, and frankly, I don’t have the energy to photoshop my own injuries out of pictures.

” She thinks on it some more. “Well, maybe I won’t.

Nobody’s perfect. Maybe it’s time for a new brand. ”

“Bold.”

“I know, but I think I’d like to be a girl who people can really like and really know. I’d like to be a girl who is happy with what she has because it’s enough.”

“I like that, too.”

“Good. I think the only matter left to solve is, now that you’re no longer Mr. Secret Agent, maybe we should get you on social media. I mean, you’re great at taking pictures and you even have a brand-new camera. You’ll be super popular because you’re also extremely hot. People will love you.”

I shrink into the bed. “I…”

“Do you…already have an account?”

I nod.

“Really? I’ve tried looking for you and have never found you. Like every variation of your name. Even your phone number!”

“Okay,” I sigh. The truth was going to come out eventually. “You’re going to have to search Tripp Van Winkle.”

[Image: Notes app screenshot from @elohelmartin with message]

Hi, guys, I know I’ve taken you on a roller coaster these past few weeks, but if it’s any consolation, I’ve been on the ride, too. My brand hasn’t historically been UFO videos or drama, so I apologize for straying so far away from the norm.

However, I think it’s something I’m going to do a lot more of.

As much as I love bringing you guys cool new products and sharing parts of my life, I’ve only been sharing part of it, and none of the million people following me know who I actually am.

For a while, I wanted it to be that way.

I didn’t want anyone to know the parts of my life that weren’t perfect, so a lot of it was fake.

No one’s happy all the time. No one looks photo shoot–ready all the time. I certainly don’t.

I know I will be a lot happier if I use this space and energy to be myself for a change.

I’m going to be taking a break for a couple of weeks here.

It’s not because my sponsors dropped me or because I’m going to rehab (not that there’s anything wrong with that).

There are just things going on offline that are more important for me to focus my attention on for the time being.

Until then!

—El