I walked into Truett's room with a fading smile on my face. Bringing the sunflowers to sit on my lap, I sat in the chair once more, gently stroking the velvety petals and fuzzy stems. What was he thinking?--what could I possibly say to make any of this less excruciating for him?
Truett stared blankly at his lap, not moving or flinching when I took his hand again. This was not our best day, it seemed. But we have each other, for now. Which is better than nothing.
"Truett. . ." The words 'I'm so sorry' nearly spilled out, but I knew they helped nothing to soothe the empty ache inside. From mountains of experience hearing it from coleges and friends and even family, all I wanted to hear someone say was: "Stop sinking." I held my breath, not believing I really said that aloud. I hastily set the sunflowers back down, mortified about my word vomit today. "Go any deeper and we might have to file another Missing Persons."
Disbelief snapped his attention straight to me. His gaze paused on me, eyes boring into me, the space between now and his reply much too prolonged and drawn out. I thought he'd be mad at me for making a joke at a time like this but instead, he surprised me.
"You're not wrong. Maybe I'll aim for seven years this time around." He chopped out, voice uneven and raw. Something within me pulled taut, pulling me back to my state when this all first happened to me. The blank stares and empty words only said to please others and assure them that I was alright and the small jokes that came out without me even hearing them.
"Why not go all the way and shoot straight for ten?" That cracked an amused twitch of a smile from him, if I could call it that. The least I could do for him is try to make him feel a little better like he did with me this morning, even if I knew it wouldn't be much of any help.
"That honestly doesn't sound like the worst plan right now." From the way his eyes glazed over slightly, I could tell he was spacing out and retreating again.
"So, sunflowers, huh?" Ah ha. "What kind of flowers do you think I'd like? I guessed your favorite pretty easily." Keep him interested, keep him here. If he backed himself up into his mind any further, it would take him months to get back out again, a mistake I made.
Lines stretched around his scar as he pulled his lip into his mouth, thinking. His reddened eyes flicked over my face, my short hair, looking for his answer. A bubble of that privacy from this morning built up around us once again, providing us our own safe space, a world away from the new world he came back into.
"Winged Everlastings." Truett finally mumbled, his voice as sure as I was blonde. "Though, they probably aren't common enough to be your favorites." He was right, I had no idea what they were.
"You're right about that, they sound lovely though."
Truett hummed, squinting his eyes inquisitively. "Peonies or Dahlias?" My lips twitched, unable to stop my surprise at how close he got in such a short time.
"Are you asking me or trying to decide between the two?" His lip popped out of its spot between his teeth, eyebrows unfurrowing.
"Deciding." He mumbled, taking a few more minutes to decide. "Peonies, for sure." His head tilted in awaiting approval.
"You hit the nail right on the head." I shifted, unintentionally drawing closer to him. "No one knows it so you better keep it to yourself. I'm not a flower person at all to people who know of me." This time, I got a broad smile from him, not quite showing his teeth but not restrained either.
"Neither am I. Guys aren't supposed to like flowers." He rolled his eyes, slowly yet surely returning to his pre-Marie self. "Bullshit, I say."
I voiced my agreement and steadily brought up my courage to ask him, "This might sound a bit intrusive, but may I take a few pictures of your bruises? Officer Vaughn needs them for your file. It's important that we get copies of them in there."
"Sure, yeah." Truett adjusted his blankets, attempting to pull his hospital gown up and over his head with a couple painful noises, even asking for my help when it came to getting it off his arms and head. I swooped in and gently unbuttoned the sleeves and sides, turning into two pieces that easily slipped off his large frame.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
"Jesus, Truett. You let Mrs. Lerwick hug you like this? You're completely black and blue." I wasn't exaggerating either. From his collar bone to his belly button, trails of dark bruises stained his fit torso. Most were dinner plate sized, while others looked oddly grouped together. Vaughn said he had a few broken ribs, it's a miracle all of them weren't shattered.
"I barely noticed, to be honest. She's tiny anyways, not much pressure to put on me." I took my work phone out, turned the flash off, and began taking pictures. He'd been in serious pain when she hugged him, I highly doubted his words.
"Do you remember how you got them?" I asked, circling the bed to get better angles.
"I think I slipped and fell down a steep hill." A lie, again. With how organized and grouped these are, a hill wouldn't do this. No, these were deliberate.
"Can you sit forward for me?" He groaned, bracing an arm across his stomach. For more support, I offered my arm and grit my teeth when he gripped it hard. "Holy—Truett, have the nurses seen this?" Panic swarmed my thoughts, rampaging at the sudden realization that he could get a horrible infection, if he didn't already have one.
He shook his head, clenching his jaw and closing his eyes tight. "No, they can't." He gingerly laid back before I could get pictures. "No pictures of it either. I only agreed to the bruises." Sweat pearled across his nose and cheeks like a little kid. "Don't tell anyone Campbell, please."
Indecision made me shuffle my feet, eating me up, but he decided to put his faith in me to keep this private, and I wanted him to continue to do so. I easily made up my mind. "Of course. But, why show me if you don't want anyone to know?"
I took a seat on the edge of his bed, the blanket had ridden down to his upper thighs, thick, tanned as all hell, and covered in hair and more black bruises. He still hadn't showered, mud still caked his feet and a thick layer of dirt covered his skin.
"I can trust you. And you have to have steady hands to handle a gun. Know how to use a needle?" He looked confident in my unproven skills as he pulled seven packs of sutures out from under his pillow.
"Resorting to stealing from a hospital, in front of a cop?" I asked, already rolling my sleeves up. "You're lucky my dad used me to help him study for his EMT classes. Give me those." He handed me the packs and asked how he should sit. "You have to get cleaned up first. I'll help you to the bathroom so you can shower quickly."
We halfway put his gown back on so he wouldn't have to walk across the room naked, but made it so he could easily take it off by himself once ready to shower. He sat up by himself, not yet accepting my help until he couldn't stand without getting lightheaded and wobbly. He slung a beefy arm over my shoulder and placed his other hand on the wall so he wouldn't crush me if he fell over.
"I've got you, don't worry, only a few more feet to go." I muttered, breaking out into a light sweat myself as he struggled to keep himself up, leaning more and more of his weight onto me.
I got handsy with the wall in the bathroom, desperately groping for the light switch. A sigh left me as my fingers made contact and switched it on, moving us quicker to set him onto the shower's bench. We were both breathing hard by the time he leaned his head in the corner and took deep breaths, the long gashes across his back opening back up, spilling blood across the tiles.
