Gone were the bulky khaki pants and shapeless tops. Thea wore sandals, shorts that revealed approximately eighty-two miles of gorgeous legs, a tank top that clung to her curves, and sunglasses. She popped bubblegum while she hauled shopping bags over her shoulders. Her blond hair was a tousled mess that I wanted to sink my fingers in to.
She caught sight of me, lowered her sunglasses with one finger, and wiggled her pinky at me in hello.
“Well?” Mr. Perello said from the bench. “You just going to stare at her like a dope? Say hi back.”
But by the time I got my shit together, Thea was stepping through Blue Ridge’s front door. Delia gave me a hard look before she disappeared inside.
“That’s a grade-A stink-eye right there,” Mr. Perello supplied helpfully.
“Tell me about it.”
Inside, I made my rounds, and then it was rec time. I found Thea sitting with Rita and Delia, surrounded by her doctors, just about to start a post-excursion barrage of questions.
“How do you feel?” Dr. Chen asked. “Was it difficult to process being in a crowded place like a mall?”
“You mean after being cooped up here for so long?” Thea replied. “No, it was easy but…”
She found me in the corner and smiled as if we hadn’t just seen each other minutes ago; better than a million compliments. Then her smile turned sly, and she winked at me.
“But what?” Dr. Milton prompted.
“But… I don’t know. I feel like…” She shook her head, confusion filling her gaze.
A few days ago, I’d panic but now I immediately knew what she was up to. I put my palm on the top of the broom and settled in to watch the performance.
“I… I’m… my…” She worked her jaw as if it had suddenly become stiff.
There she goes…
“My… may…” She glanced around in a panic. “Mais, qu’est-ce qui m’arrive?”1
Dr. Milton gave a start. “Beg your pardon?”
I stifled a laugh in my shoulder as Thea’s eyes widened and her hands flew to her throat.
“Je ne peux pas m’arrêter de parler français!”2
Dr. Milton stared at Thea, his jaw opening and closing. Dr. Chen, however, crossed her arms and mutely shook her head at an intern to stop taking notes.
“C’est normal?” Thea begged of Dr. Milton. “Qu’est ce qui cloche chez moi?”
“There is nothing wrong with you,” Dr. Chen answered, a bemused smirk on her face. “Nice try. Four years of French, here. Et vous?”
“Six,” Thea said with a giggle.
“What…?” Delia stared in alarm, then slumped in her seat. “Honestly, Thea, there is something wrong with you. Very wrong.”
Thea burst out laughing. “Couldn’t help myself. I finally found a good use for it.”
Dr. Milton chuckled. “Quite a prankster.”
“It gets old, trust me,” Delia said.
“If we could get back to our evaluation?” Dr. Chen said.
Thea shot me another smile and a sheepish shrug. I held up both hands, giving a ten-out-of-ten score, then the doctors closed in around her.
Rita meandered over to me, her hands behind her back and a shit-eating grin on her face.
“What?”
“Can’t say,” she said. “Girl code. I can’t say that Thea talked about you at the mall.”
“She did?”
“And at the risk of sounding like we’re back in junior high, I also can’t say the words drop, dead, and gorgeous were thrown around quite liberally.”
I inhaled the possibilities, then sighed them out. “Chapter three of the employee handbook, Rita. You know nothing can happen.”
Between Thea and me. Us. Whatever that might be.
“I do,” she said. “But if Thea continues to do well, she won’t be a resident much longer.”
“Really? It’s only been a few days.”
“I know and the doctors—not to mention Delia—are going to want to keep her for observation.”
“Is it dangerous for Thea to leave Blue Ridge?” I asked.
“For longer than a trip to the mall?”
I nodded.
“In my professional opinion? Not necessarily. If she had someone with her at all times, at least at first. And I’d prefer she have a roommate, once she gets her own place, just to be safe.” She raised her eyebrows. “Any volunteers?”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I,” she said. “Why are you asking?”
“I don’t think she’s going to be happy here for long.”
“Neither do I. She’s strong-willed. I don’t think any of us can talk her out of wanting her life back. But it’s too soon. Dr. Chen says so and she’s the final authority, not me.”
“But there’s no real danger?” I asked. “Medically speaking?”
“Honey, there’s danger in getting in a car to head to the corner store,” Rita said. “Thea knows that better than anyone. But Delia has power of attorney over her. It was set up when Thea was incapacitated.” She looked over to where Thea was answering the doctors’ questions. “Does she look incapacitated to you?”
She looks fucking perfect.
“Exactly,” Rita said, reading my expression.
“So Delia has to call off her power of attorney, right?”
“I doubt it. Ms. Hughes has been in control of every aspect of Thea’s life for the past two years.” She gave me a sympathetic glance. “She’s not going to give it up without a fight.”
----------
1: What is happening to me?
2: I can’t stop speaking French!
Later, when I figured the doctors had cleared out, I went back to the rec room. Thea stood in front of a blank canvas, a tray of paints beside her. She turned and gave me another of her so-happy-to-see-you smiles. It sent a warm feeling through my chest and heated my blood too. Being near her was becoming something more than good. Or casual.
I still wanted long conversations with Thea, only instead of having those talks while out on the grounds or in the rec room, my imagination conjured her in my bed, with her hair splayed over my pillow. The morning light revealed the marks we’d put on each other’s body the night before. Her lips were swollen from my kisses, and my shoulder blades stung where she’d raked her nails. We’d talk and kiss until kissing wasn’t enough. Then I’d take her hard and she’d come undone beneath me. We’d eat and talk and kiss some more, then do it all over again. Because we had all the time in the world…
Because she’s no longer incapacitated. She can make her own choices. I could be a choice she makes.
I pushed the longing away and the heated thoughts that went with it. Nothing could happen, at least while she was still a resident and I was an orderly.
“New stuff?” I asked with a nod at the canvas.
“Yeah,” she said. “But I’m not feeling it right now.”
“Painter’s block?”
Thea laughed. “Exactly. Before the accident, I couldn’t go three days without painting. I’ve only done one here. One in two years. It’d be zero if not for you.”