Page 84 of Dearly Unbeloved
On the other hand, without the pain and discomfort to distract me, I’m all too aware of Sierra’s presence.
She floats around the apartment, cleaning and tidying, bringing me water and snacks (and watching to make sure I eat and drink), and humming away to herself. I don’t even think she realizes she’s doing it. It’s night and day to the gaunt, hollow Sierra who appeared in the doorway of my hospital room on Thursday.
I like it a lot. Love it, even. I want her to be happy and comfortable here. But it’s also completely unnerving, because I have no idea what it means.
It could mean she’s just happy I’m okay. Or it could mean she’s happy to be home. Or it could mean she wants me back—wants me, period, since we were never technically together. Or it could mean nothing at all, and I’m going to end up heartbroken all over again when she leaves. It’s all so fucking complicated. But she’s here for now, and I’ve missed her too much to worry about what may or may not happen next.
I get up from the couch and stretch, rolling my shoulders.
“What’s wrong? Do you need something? A snack? A drink? Pain killers?” Sierra is at my side in a flash.
“I’m okay,” I reassure her. “I know I can’t shower, but I was thinking I might have a sink bath and clean up a little.”
“Do you want help?” she asks before I can even get all the words out.
“I think I’ll manage, but I’ll shout if I need you,” I promise, and she steps back to let me pass, watching me like a hawk with every step I take toward the bathroom. Theoverprotectiveness should probably annoy me, but it’s Sierra, so I like it.
I struggle through my sink bath, and I have to forgo most of my skincare routine, but I feel better when I smell less like a combination of smoke and the hospital. Putting on a bra one-handed is out of the question—why have I never invested in a front-closing bra?—but I manage to wriggle into one of the sweatshirts Sierra left behind. It’s a navy tour crewneck, one of her favorites, and I’ve been living in it for the past couple of weeks. It’s mostly lost the sweet scent of her, but maybe it’ll reabsorb it while she’s here.
My mirror is not my friend right now, somehow making every bruise and scratch look so much worse than they do when I see them through my own eyes. But I’m alive, and so is everyone else, and Sierra is here. What more could I ask for?
I rub my ring finger with my thumb. I feel so naked without my ring.
The bag they put my stuff in at the hospital is on my dresser. Sierra already took out my clothes, did the laundry, and has put it away. It’s a little unnerving, but I tip the rest of it on the bed, rummaging through the sheer amount of shit I had in my pockets. Chapstick, several pens, packaging from lab equipment I hadn’t gotten around to trashing, a five-dollar bill, my sunglasses… but no ring.
Panic rises in my chest. Oh god. Did it get lost? Did someone steal it? I’m going to be sick.
I rush back to the dresser, pushing aside pill bottles and information sheets the hospital gaveme. My cast catches a candle and it crashes to the ground with a loud thud, the glass cracking into two big chunks.
“Fuck,” I say, tears gathering in my eyes. I fall to my knees, my head spinning at the sudden movement, a moment before Sierra rushes in.
Her eyes widen as she spots me, and she instantly drops beside me. “Shit, what happened? Did you fall? Are you okay, honey?”
“I knocked the candle over. I’m sorry. I’m okay, I… I…” I can’t get anything else out because I can’t get any more oxygen into my lungs.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay,” Sierra murmurs, picking the candle up and reaching to put it back on the dresser. “Just breathe.”
She helps me up as I try to force myself to breathe. My lungs are screaming, my throat is dry as hell, and my eyes are burning as I try to fight back the panicked tears desperate to fall.
Sierra cups my face, running her thumb gently across my cheekbone. “Talk to me, Rosie. What’s going on?”
I finally inhale a big gulp of air, and tears spill down my cheeks as I croak, “I can’t find my ring. I must have lost it in the explosion, or someone at the hospital took it, but I can’t find it. It’s gone.”
“I have it. I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. I saw it in your bag when I was getting the keys, and I didn’t want it to get lost, so I took it.”
The second the words leave Sierra’s mouth, I feel my body slump. First in relief, then with exhaustion. I’m so fucking tired. My body is sore, my thoughts aremuddled, and my heart doesn’t feel like my own anymore. It hasn’t felt like mine in a while.
Sierra must see it on my face because she tightens her grasp on me, and her eyes flood with emotion. “Rose?—”
“You left me.” I don’t say it as much as sob it, the words falling out like I’ve been holding them in for years rather than weeks. I step out of her hold, wobbly on my feet. “I know that was always the plan, but you left without saying goodbye. I told you I wanted to talk, and you justleft.” My voice creeps higher and higher with every word, and I don’t know how much she can understand as I cry harder.
She watches me, her mouth parted slightly, completely still. But now that I’ve started, I’m finding it hard to stop.
“You didn’t even give me a chance to ask you to stay. And I know this is what we agreed, and maybe it’s my fault for falling for you anyway, but you just left. You made me fucking fall for you and then you left!”
“You were going to ask me to stay? That’s why you wanted to talk?” Sierra’s voice is the opposite of mine, barely above a whisper.
“Yes. And I know that’s not what we planned, but you could’ve said no. I could’ve handled it. That would’ve been better than coming home to an empty apartment and signed divorce papers.” My voice cracks, and Sierra looks away, sucking in a breath.
