Page 67 of This Might Hurt

JUDE

Andrew has to go to the Pancake House after all.

I should feel bad for him, since the cook here probably thinks “Vegan” is a brand of steak sauce, but I’m upset enough at him to think it’s funny.

Not a lot upset—I’m too grateful for that.

Just a little edge I can’t seem to shake, the part of me that wants my ring back along with whatever he hasn’t been telling me.

The flat, yellow lighting highlights a sea of empty tables when we walk in, their silver surfaces gleaming. The food here tastes terrible, but the place is always clean because if you give one person food poisoning in a town this small, everyone will remember it forever.

I run all over the place, checking every shape and size of table to see which works best for a wheelchair, where I can sit closest to her.

I finally pick a big round one in the middle and take away some seats so there’s room for Lena.

Then I walk from the table to the door and back again, nudging chairs and tables out of the way until I know she can drive straight through without stopping.

Andrew sits on the edge of the table I chose and watches me.

He’s not upset at me, I don’t think, but he’s moody because of the funeral.

This afternoon we drove to Rawlins, where people were less likely to recognize me, and poked around the bookstores and antique shops to kill time.

He spent the whole three hours with his phone an inch from his nose, watching news coverage about the service.

But there’s something more. I can feel it because he’s mine and I can sense everything about him. Right now, I kind of wish I couldn’t.

We sit awkwardly by ourselves in the restaurant for fifteen minutes.

A car door slams outside, followed by loud laughter.

Andrew cranes his neck to see and chuckles, so I turn around.

My parents must have let Lena take the wheelchair van for the night, because her friends—two girls and two guys—are in hysterics as they try to figure out how to get the ramp down and unhook the clamp from the wheelchair.

Lena’s struggling to explain it to them in between fits of giggles.

“I forgot how fucking noisy kids that age are,” I comment as we watch through the window.

Andrew raises his eyebrows like he thinks I’m still plenty noisy.

One of the boys holds the door open for everyone and they burst inside.

I hope to god they’re not going to eat with us.

When they spot our table and follow Lena through the open path I made, the two girls start ogling Andrew and I and nudging each other.

“Heyyy,” one of them ventures, flashing me a big, hopeful smile.

“I’m Brooke. Lena never told us you were so hot. ”

“Quit humping my brother and go away,” Lena snaps good naturedly, waving them off. She has better use of her arms than I expected, with a brace on each wrist to hold them steady.

The other girl finishes scribbling something on a scrap of paper and flings it on the table in front of Andrew. “Okay there’s my number call me bye,” she yells, so fast it’s all one word, and the two of them sprint outside laughing.

“Are they drunk?” I ask Lena.

She rolls her eyes, but she can’t stop smiling. “Not yet. They’re just super excited. Brooke’s dyslexic, Sammie is a foster kid, and I’m the wheelchair girl, so we made a pact to get to graduation together no matter what.”

“Um, text us when you want us to pick you up,” one of the boys offers morosely, waving goodbye as they walk away.

They look depressed to see the girls they’ve probably been crushing on all year throw their numbers at a couple of strangers.

Andrew picks up the scrap of paper in front of him with two fingers, makes a face at it, and crumples it up in a napkin like it’s a bug he killed.

“What can I get you guys?” Ron, the middle-aged owner of the Pancake House, comes over with a notepad. “Oh hey, Lena.” When his eyes find me, they go wide. “Is that Jude?”

“Yep!” Lena chirps proudly. I can’t tell if she doesn’t notice that he’s not thrilled to see me or if she’s choosing to ignore it.

“I’ll have, uh,” Andrew squints unhappily at his menu, “the fruit side dish and some hash browns with no butter.”

“The breakfast of champions.” I crack up in spite of myself, and he shoots me a warning look.

I can tell he’s jealous that I’m sitting next to Lena and not him, even though he desperately doesn’t want to be.

It’s gratifying to watch him realize that he’s just as messed up as I am.

I order some pancakes, while Lena asks for eggs and sausage, and Ron disappears with one last skeptical glance in my direction.

He might be going to call my parents, but all I can do is pray that they don’t show up to scream at me.

I scoot my seat closer and closer to Lena until it bumps the corner of her wheelchair.

She’s here. I can’t get it through my head.

Part of me believed I’d never see her again, because the pain of that loss hurt less than getting my hopes up and having them broken.

And the never ending chorus of “You did this to her” that’s been repeating in my head every minute of every day for almost two years starts to get quieter when I can see that she’s not a terrified girl crying in a hospital bed anymore.

She’s radiant and strong, just like she was before.

Lena shifts her arm over to rest her limp hand on mine. I remember her sweaty little death grip when we’d drag each other around the yard. This feels different, but it’s unmistakably her. I start to flip my hand over and weave my fingers between hers, then hesitate. “Does it hurt if I…”

She shakes her head, a slow, dimpled smile spreading across her face as she studies me close up. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Yeah.” I pop up and kiss the top of her head. Her hair smells like a different shampoo than I remember, but the shoulder-length style is pretty cute. I can’t make myself say anything else, because I have no idea if I’m losing her again after today.

When Ron brings the food, I let go of Lena’s hand and stare anxiously at her plate of steaming, rubbery eggs. “Do you need help? I’m sorry, I don’t know how anything works.”

“I have a fork in the bag on the back of the chair. Grab it for me?”

She means that literally. It’s a fork with a circular strap attached to the base of the handle. I flip it around, studying how it’s put together. “Hey, this is pretty cool.”

“Slide it over my fingers onto my palm.” When I obey, the fork sticks out perpendicular to her hand so she can eat with her arm movement instead of her wrist and fingers.

“My arms are getting so much better,” she enthuses, digging into her food.

She never did get over her habit of being so excited that she talks with her mouth full.

“At first I could barely move them, but I’ve done so many different treatments.

The doctors said I probably won’t get any more function back after this long, but I can work out in physical therapy until I’m strong enough to push my body weight.

Then Mom won’t have to—” She cuts off and presses her lips together, glancing at me.

“It’s fine,” I mumble, pushing syrup around with my fork and ignoring the gut punch reminder that my parents are only a few miles away. “You can talk about them.”

Lena gives Andrew an uncertain look, and I glance between them, confused. I realize he hasn’t done anything but dissect and re-arrange his food. It’s pretty sad food, to be fair, but we haven’t eaten all day.

“So how did you two meet?” Lena asks, not-so-subtly changing the subject. I still can’t figure out if she realizes we’re a couple or not.

“Oh, uh…” I stare at the pancake bite on my fork. I’m about to toss out some boring lie when Andrew sets his coffee mug down firmly.

“He saved my life.”

Lena’s mouth drops open. “Wait, what? Really?”

Andrew glances at my what the hell did you just say expression and shrugs one shoulder. “I was about to, uh, drown, and he pulled me out.”

“Oh my god, I’m so proud,” Lena squeals dramatically, thwapping my arm with hers. “Jude’s the best, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he really is.” Andrew’s mouth has been so tense all afternoon, but the corner relaxes into a tiny smile. I don’t understand the expression in his eyes at all, and I can feel my face turning hot.

“Jesus, cut it out,” I mumble, hunching over my plate. Ramona would laugh; she’s always trying to tell me I’m special, and I hate that just as much.

Things get quiet while we eat and listen to bad country music floating out of the kitchen. We’re still the only ones here, because not a single family is gonna take their brand new graduate out to the Pancake House for dinner.

I give up after half a pancake and watch Andrew stab pieces of fruit. I’m not sure he’s taken a single bite. After another minute, Lena sighs. “Okay. Jude, please un-fork me. I don’t want any more.”

Huffing a laugh, I reach over and slip the strap off her hand, then clean the fork carefully on a napkin and put it back in her bag. A heavy silence that everyone seems to be in on except me falls over the table as she pivots her chair until we’re sitting face to face.

“Wait.” Fear floods my body as I stare at her. “What’s going on?” I take back being upset with Andrew. I need him here, next to me, touching me, but he’s just sitting on the other side of the table with a face that tells me he knows what’s happening.

Lena frowns at her lap for a moment, biting her lips, then lifts her worried eyes to mine. “Andrew told me.”

My head jerks toward him, betrayal ripping my chest open.

“Told you what? When?” All this time, I made sure Lena didn’t find out anything about me and what happened after the accident.

I couldn’t take away her stability and support system on top of everything else.

Apparently I failed, and it wasn’t even my fault.