Between the Land and the Sea - By Derrolyn Anderson Page 0,98
distract me, while they injected painkillers and cleaned my wounds.
“So,” he said, smoothing back my hair and taking my hand, “A Nobel prize. That’s a big deal. How come you didn’t know?”
“I didn’t check my mail today,” I said, “And he didn’t call. My dad’s more into his work than awards and stuff.” I smiled up at him from the table, “He’s kinda crazy that way.”
“I think crazy runs in the family,” he said, squeezing my hand.
All I could feel now was a tugging sensation as they sewed up the two main cuts. I was given some antibiotics to take and Ethan was sent out of the room.
The doctor sat down and lectured me about waiting so long to seek medical attention. He told me I was lucky I came in before an infection could set in, and said that I needed to stay off my feet for a few days. Then his tone became serious as he handed me a brochure about teen drinking and drug abuse. He suggested that I join a support group. He left and Ethan came back in.
“That’s just great,” I said sarcastically, “First they think I’m suicidal and now I’m a substance abuser.” I waved the brochures at him. Ethan laughed at me and picked me up again.
As we drove back to his house he gently questioned me.
“They were convinced you had to be high on something to have withstood the pain. How did you get all the way home from the beach like that?” he asked.
I described what happened to him, pausing when I noticed how upset he was getting. I told him how I could barely see to pull the glass out. How glad I was that I had pants on. I told him about using the newspaper and taking some of the stairs on my knees. I told him about washing up in the bathtub, and how freaked out I was that I had moved the furniture like a zombie to get out of my room. We pulled up to his apartment.
“Wait here,” he said, leaning over to kiss me. He paused, “You’re a lot tougher than you look.” He came back with my things in his duffel bag, “Give me your keys. I’m driving you home.”
“How are you getting home?” I asked.
“I’m not,” he said, “I’m your new bodyguard.”
He told me he was going to watch me that night to make sure I didn’t sleepwalk. As we drove he said it didn’t matter if he had to stay up all night, he would figure out a way to keep me from getting out. I was relieved that he was going to help me but I was nervous at the thought of having him in such close proximity. We pulled up in front of my house.
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” I said.
“I think it is,” he replied.
“What about your dad?” I asked, “Won’t he miss you?”
“He won’t check up on me tonight,” he told me. “Besides, Abby has him so distracted lately that I’d be surprised if he even notices I’m gone.”
I laughed, “Yeah, Abby’s been going around the house singing for the past week. She’s even happier than normal, if that’s possible.” I shook my head, amused, “So you’re okay with your dad seeing her?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “My mom ditched us when I was just a kid. He deserves to be with someone great like Abby.”
Once again I didn’t know what to say. I reached out and took his hand and he leaned over to kiss me softly. He got out and came around to my side of the car, picking me up and carrying me into the house. He set me down on the couch. Cruz came into the room and did a double take when he saw my bandaged feet.
“What on earth happened here?” he exclaimed, looking back and forth at Ethan and me.
“Have a seat,” I said, “We need to talk.” I told him everything that had been going on. I tried to break the news to him gently, but with each new detail he became more and more agitated.
“Why didn’t you tell me!” he cried, “For God’s sake Marina– you could have been killed!”
“I know,” said Ethan, taking his side, “We have to figure out what to do.” Ethan told him about his plans to watch over me at night and the two of them started discussing ways to keep me from getting out.
“Hello– I’m sitting right here!” I said, offended,