Okay, maybe not quite yet. My body needs a little more time to catch up to my emotional enthusiasm.
“Just reading a message.” I toss my phone on the sofa beside me.
“From your mom?” Julie sits at the opposite end of the sofa, hugging her knees to her chest.
It’s hard to not stare at her. I’m still not used to her new look, and she’s had it for months.
“No. It was Dorothy. Her shift just ended. She’s stopping by tomorrow between classes, bringing all of us lunch.”
Oh … and she loves me.
Julie rolls her lips together and nods. “That’s … sweet.”
I ignore the way she makes it sound like Dorothy is a neighbor girl bringing by a May Day basket for Roman.
“As grateful as I am for what you’re doing, I can’t help but wonder if it won’t put a kink in your personal life. I hope you know that my family can help. Definitely on the weekends. If you want to make plans or even stay at your place on the weekends, I’ll be fine. You know my family would take care of me and Roman.”
“Wow! I haven’t been here a full day and you’re dismissing me?” Julie’s eyes widen.
“No.” I chuckle. “I’m just thinking ahead is all. I feel like we all agreed to this arrangement without giving it thorough consideration.”
“Well…” her lips twist as she averts her gaze to the coffee table “…my personal life isn’t as exciting at the moment as what you probably imagine.”
“I try not to imagine your personal life.”
She ignores my jab.
“I was seeing someone. I didn’t tell anyone. Never introduced Roman to him.” She glances at me with a flat smile as if to make me feel guilty for Dorothy’s and Roman’s relationship.
Fuck you. Dorothy’s amazing. It’s your own fault you’re not finding people who adore our son like Dorothy does.
“He went back to his family.”
“Is that code for you had an affair with a married man?”
She jerks her head back and shoots me a scowl. “No!”
Really, how was I to know? In all fairness to me, Julie’s favorite line is “You just don’t know me anymore.”
“They were divorced.”
“And now they’re back together?”
She nods, resting her chin on her knees. “And for the record … as I’ve said before, even if you didn’t believe me … I never cheated on you. I didn’t leave you because I was having an affair. There was no one else. I didn’t leave you for another man, I left you for me.”
I nod. “I forgive you.”
“For leaving you?”
“No.” I narrow my eyes. “I don’t think leaving me requires an apology. I mean … we apologize for things we regret, right? I’ve never felt that you regret leaving me. But I have always felt your regret for hurting me. And for that, I forgive you.”
As I shift my gaze to meet her teary eyes, she quickly wipes them. “You don’t know how much I’ve needed to hear you say that.”
“Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t say it sooner.”
She leans back and runs her hands through her hair. “I was struggling in ways you didn’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing. It’s not the time to discuss it.”
“Look at me. I’m a pretty captive audience at the moment, completely dependent on outside help to even make it to the toilet … which by the way, I’ll need to get to one soon.”
“Oh!” She jumps up. “Sorry. Jeez, of course. You drank tons of water with dinner and your pills, of course your eyeballs have to be floating.”
“It’s fine. I think I’m good if you just hand me the crutches.”
“You still need help because of your ribs.”
I’m a mess and still really fucking weak, so I don’t protest.
She walks right beside me as I hobble to the main floor bathroom.
“Do you need help getting your pants down?”
I give her a quick glance. Is she blushing?
“I’m starting to think I should have hired someone … a professional.”
“I’m a doctor, in case you didn’t get the memo. That makes me a professional. And I’ve seen it all.”
“That’s why you turned your back on me when I undressed to put on a gown after the coffee incident.”
“You didn’t need my help undressing, so it wasn’t helping, which meant I just would have been watching you undress. You know the difference.”
I have to pee. Badly …
“Just look away.” I pull down the front of my sweatpants while she helps me balance, turning her head in the opposite direction.
I grab her shoulders, feeling a bit fatigued just from the trip to the bathroom. A slight bit of nausea sweeps over me too, from the pressure on my surgical wounds.
I pee for what feels like ten minutes. “I’m not doing so well.”
“Oh!” She jerks my pants up.
Jesus … I didn’t ask her to do that. What was the point of looking away?