Page 40 of Wild Card
His gaze flicks to the vase of cheerful, yellow daffodils, soft pink ranunculus, and deep purple hyacinths in my hand. “For what? I didn’t do anything.”
“You didn’t die. Congratulations. A huge accomplishment,” I fire back with my sweetest smile, already feeling better for being able to make him smirk.
“Guess so, huh? Just need a few more days, and I’ll be back to yoga.”
I place the vase of flowers on the windowsill before turning back to him and leaning in, dropping a quick, friendly kiss against his stubbled cheek. “I miss you, Clyde, but you won’t be back to yoga until we get clearance from your doctors.”
He responds with a petulant eye roll. “These fuckin’ clowns don’t know shit. Did you know they had to write on me with a Sharpie saying which side the kidney needed to go in on? A big Xto mark the spot.” He shakes his head as he crosses his arms, disappointment dripping from every motion. “Over a decade of schooling, and these kids don’t even know right from left.”
I bite down on my lip and nod along. “Yeah, I think that might be more of a precaution than anything? I’m certain your surgeon would know right from left. And they must have gotten it right—you look so much better already!”
He grumbles something about not being convinced, but I glaze over it because he’s not yellow anymore. “How are you feeling?”
Clyde looks longingly out the window before turning big blue puppy dog eyes on me. “Like I want to go home. I will hire you to break me out of this place.”
I take a seat in the chair beside him and pat his hand. I don’t know where Clyde gets all his money from because he’s always wearing the same dusty overalls and stained trucker hat. His truck is a relic and constantly sounds like it’s taking its dying breath. But he throws around cash for personalized services like it’s nothing. And truth be told, I can use the extra income, so I never say no.
“Hospitals have a strange energy. I totally get it. Maybe I can come help you at home once you’re discharged? We could do some breathing andnappingand things like that since I’m already there helping with other tasks.”
He goes still for a moment, brows lifting as his head tilts in consideration. I swear it’s as though I’ve just seen a light bulb flick on in his head. “Yeah. Yeah. That would be great. I might need more help than usual.”
“In the beginning, maybe. But I know you’ll bounce back quickly.”
He turns toward me, an earnest expression on his face. “Would you be able to visit daily to start? Or even do overnight? There’s an extra room. I really think that would be helpful. Apparently, the hospital wants to know that I have someone to assist me in order for my discharge to go through. And I don’t trust many people. We could work out a good salary for full-time.”
I almost laugh in relief. I’ve been looking for a place in town to tide me over until I can find my next gig. Clyde doesn’t know about my upcoming housing crisis, but I guess the universe works in mysterious ways. “Would it be okay if I still taught at the studio?”
The prospect of having both jobs is too good to not ask.
He shrugs. “Sure. I don’t want you sitting there staring at me all the time. You’ll annoy me.”
I laugh, thinking about the practicality of adding this responsibility to my plate. It feels like the universe has guided me through my life this far, and I’ve taken the opportunities that have presented themselves. And, to this point, it hasn’t led me astray. So I go with that energy. The positivewatch meenergy that I know so well.
“Actually, yeah. This will be great,” I say with a soft nod. “You know I’m saving up to travel, but now I unexpectedly need to be out of my apartment by the end of the month.”
His forehead scrunches. “You didn’t tell me that.”
I just shrug. “It’s fine. I didn’t want to burden you with that hiccup.”
“Well, good. You’ll move in with me. No rent necessary.”
He looks so pleased that I can’t help but smile. It makes me feel all glowy and warm to see how happy my presence makes him. It’s a reaction I’ve never been able to garner from my father. Instead, I seem only to exasperate and disappoint him.
Which is why I’m here—out in the world, carving my own path, my own life, exactly the wayIwant it. And with that goal in mind, I offer Clyde a smile and a firm nod. “Count me in.”
He brightens exponentially. “Do you promise?”
Does he brighten just a little too much?
There’s something suspicious about his reaction. I scan his face for clues. The glint in his eye reminds me of a little boy who knows something he shouldn’t. “You want me to promise?”
“Yeah.” He nods solemnly, grumbling as he shifts in the bed. “I know I’m a lot to handle sometimes. People get tired of me. Then they stop showing up.”
I swallow roughly, feeling like I relate just a little too easily. It’s why I keep moving. If I leave first, no one can stop showing up for me. I don’t give them the chance to get tired of me the way my dad did.
Poor Clyde, though. He can’t keep up with that lifestyle. He is certainly…an acquired taste, but the thought of him being left all alone after a major surgery breaks my heart.
“Yeah, of course. I promise. I’ll be there.”
