Page 45 of There's Pumpkin About You
Things became a little complicated after Doctor Shakari examined Gus.
Doctor Shakari gave strict instructions for Gus to remain on bed rest for at least a week to allow for the skin to start to heal. No socks, shoes or hot showers.
I made sure to call Bash and explain the situation, to which he just spent the entire conversation laughing and saying that it serves him right. He also said that he is in Renford with Finn so that he can take a look at Finn’s other projects and won’t be back until tomorrow morning.
When I asked him if there was anyone else that Gus would accept help from, I could pretty much picture his smug smile as he said, “Accepthelp? No. But imagine getting help from a pretty girl with curly brown hair and a sharp tongue? Oh, I think he’d love it.”
Let’s just say it was the first time I felt any dislike for Bash.
And that all leads to our current situation, me helping him out of the car and leading him back into his house. He accepted my help, but holds up a hand as I attempt to let him lean on me as he hobbles down the worn path leading up to the house. I stay close to him despite him telling me he can manage, which I can see is annoying him.
I ignore the side eye he sends me every two seconds and grab his keys which I picked up when we left. He tries to hide his limp as he makes his way into his living room which is joined to the kitchen.
The last of today’s light pours in through the large windows, illuminating the bright space. Gus’s cream sofa makes the softest creak as he plops himself down onto it. He leans all the way back and closes his eyes, not bothering to move the brown waves that sit against his annoyingly long lashes.
I feel for him, I really do. I can’t imagine the amount of stress that he must be under. It must feel like the world is against him: to be so overwhelmed and behind with work and then to have all these obstacles in his way any time he tries to push through. The worst part I realize, as I awkwardly stand in the doorway, is that a lot of it is my fault. If I hadn’t come in, guns blazing about that stupid barn, I would have been able to see that it’s more of a hindrance for the farm’s business than anything. I was so caught up in myself and my own troubles that I didn’t see the problems I was causing for other people.
Maybe that’s why Gus dislikes me so much, because I forced him into this position. A position that anyone else would have found overwhelming let alone someone like Gus who thrives on routine and order. Maybe my ex was right… when I think about this job, I only ever think about myself.
“Gus?”
He grunts to let me know he’s listening. I sheepishly take a step forwards.
“I want to apologize.”
He opens one eye as he turns his head towards me.
“I’ve been really selfish with this whole thing. I pushed you to do everything with the barn when it seriously shouldn’t have been done at this point in time. Not when you’re injured and overwhelmed with the harvest.”
I have his full attention when he opens his other eye and lifts his head off the back of the couch.
“I was so blinded by the chance to bring my business back to life and help out my best friend that I didn’t even take a second to think about anything else and because of that you’re where you are now. If I had just left and searched elsewhere then you wouldn’t be this stressed or this… injured.”
He looks bored and I have no idea how to take that. Gus’s facial expressions really are an entire language in themselves; one I am really struggling to understand. He’s looking at me the same way I used to look at my college professor when he spoke about how kids these days needed to have stricter driving tests.
“That’s part of the reason I want you to let Finn and the others help with the harvest. I need to make things right. It’s what should have been happening from the beginning.”
After a minute of silence, a silence so delicate that even the quietest of noises would sound like an explosion, Gus sighs and lowers his head once more, closing his eyes and clasping his hands in his lap.
I shift my weight from leg to leg, unsure of what to do in this silence Gus has created.
Eventually, he opens one eye again, spots me standing exactly where he left me, closes it again and mumbles, “Are you going to stay standing there all day, or are you going to come in and sit down?”
“You want me to stay?” I ask, surprised.
“I want you to sit the fuck down.”
I keep my mouth shut, swallowing a snappy retort, and sit down on the other end of the L-shaped sofa.
When, again, no one talks, I speak up.
“Gus?”
He groans and sits up. “What do you want me to say, Wren? You want me to tell you that you’re forgiven? There’s nothing to forgive except you scaring the fuck out of me and making me burn my foot.”
“But the other stuff?—”
“There is no other stuff, Southwick. I don’t regret agreeing to do the barn. If I did then I would have opted out of the trial period, but I didn’t.”
