Hunter Hill University: Reaching Rose Part 16

"Oh. I was under the impression it was more than that," Mom says.

"Nope."

"But..."

"Sam, leave her alone," my dad insists. "She doesn't wanna talk about him."

Thanks, Daddy.

Mom doesn't pry anymore, but she looks hurt. When things are going well, I'm very open to talking to my mother, but when I'm not sure where things stand, I'd rather keep my thoughts to myself. I hope Mom understands that.

After a fairly boring Sunday spent mostly in my room, on Monday morning, I get back on the farm, my brown work boots unfamiliar on my feet. It's been so long since I've worn them. Getting around the farm is tricky with my new leg. The divots and mud holes cause me to trip. But I manage, using my cane when I have to, and by the end of the day, I'm exhausted.

Back in my room, I take off my prosthesis to care for my leg - I still can't say the S word. I haven't quite accepted the whole truth yet, and looking at it still curdles my stomach. I grab the crutches I keep next to my bed and step into the bathroom to take a shower, where I'll sit on the chair my mother bought me so I don't fall while showering. I undress and wash in the dark, not ready to look at my scar whole. Bits and pieces are hard enough.

When I'm clean and dressed in my flannels, I slide into bed, without dinner, and turn on Friends. At least I'll laugh at Chandler and Joey's slapstick.

At about seven, Mom walks in with a piece of pie. "You didn't come down for dinner."

"I know."

"Why?"

"Not hungry."

She sits on the edge of my bed, blocking my view of the television. "I don't want you sitting up here all the time. It's not good for...Stop rolling your eyes at me, Rose. I don't want you alone this much."

"G.o.d. I'm not alone a lot. I was outside all day. I'm tired."

"It's not good for...for your...depression." She says depression like it's a bad word.

"I'm. Not. I'm tired."

While she's sitting on my bed, I tilt my head to look around her so I can see the TV.

My mom huffs and gets up, but says nothing as she walks out and slams my door.

Sometime during another Friends episode, I get a text from Ben.

BEN: Hey. How's John Boy Walton today?

This makes me laugh.

ME: John Boy? Do I look like a John Boy to you?

BEN: Not. At. All. I just don't know any other Waltons. Should I have said Laura Ingalls?

ME: Better. ;) BEN: Seriously. How'd your first day back on the farm go?

ME: It went. Tiring.

BEN: I bet. Did you cook any more of your pets?

ME: OMG. You make us sound evil.

BEN: Kidding. But it does freak me out a little.

ME: LOL. Pansy.

Ben:

BEN: Went to the doctor. Check-up.

ME: And?

BEN: Eh. They need to send me for a CAT scan.

ME: Why? :( Oh my G.o.d. I shouldn't have put the sad face. That's implying I like him.

BEN: Don't be sad. It's just routine.

ME: Good. Can you play ball yet?

BEN: No running, but Coach wants me back for practices.

ME: When?

BEN: Now. I'm thinking of going back this week. Getting bored.

I can't respond right away. I'm thinking of all my earlier reasons for not wanting to get involved. And it's happening sooner than January.

BEN: You still there?

I lay my phone down and pick it up, repeating this several times before I text him back.

ME: Sorry. I'm here. I think that's great you're going back.

BEN: Thanks. It means I'll be closer to you too.

ME: Good.

BEN: We still on for Sat.u.r.day?

ME: Sure.

BEN: Cool. Do you know what's playing?

ME: The new schedule comes out on Thursday.

My phone rings mid-text and I don't get to send it. It's Ben.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"I wanted to hear your voice, and my thumbs are getting tired."

"Hey." My cheeks feel hot at the sound of his voice.

"You mind I'm calling?"

"No," I lie. I may want to talk with him, but before I know it, I'll be dating him and worrying who else he's seeing.

"So...what're you doin'?"

"Talking to you."

"Yeah but before I called."

"Texting you," I joke.

"Funny. From where were you texting me? Your bedroom?"

"Yes, actually." I laugh.

"You weren't sleeping, were you?"

"No. Just lying in bed watching Friends."

"Friends. Yeah, I heard it's funny. Like How I Met Your Mother, right?"

"Funnier. You have Netflix? 'Cause you should watch it."

"Maybe I will. Maybe I can come over and watch it with you."

"Maybe. You are one of those sweet talkers, aren't you?"

"I am so not one of those guys, Rose. I swear. Yes, I'm flirting with you, but only 'cause I really do want to come over and be with you...to watch anything. Even Little House on the Prairie."

"I don't watch Little House on the Prairie."

"Ok. The Waltons."

"I don't watch The Waltons either." I clutch my stomach to stop the betraying b.u.t.terflies.

"Rose?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I come over to watch whatever the h.e.l.l it is you watch?"

My cheeks burn again, causing me to pause in my response.

"Should I take that as a no?"

"No, I don't mean no. Yes...I'd like that." My brain kicks itself for making my mouth say yes.

"Do I have to wait until Sat.u.r.day? Can I come up sooner?"

"What about your team? Won't you be involved with them?"

"Maybe I'll wait 'til next week."

"You can do that? I thought your coach wanted you back."

"Didn't give him an answer yet. I'll just tell him I have to finish my therapy."

"You'd do that?"

"To be with you I would."

"Ben?"

"Yeah?"

"Why?"

"Why? Because I like being with you. You're...interesting."

"Interesting? I'm boring."

"What? You're not boring. I never met anyone who picked up s.h.i.t for a living."

"Haha. I pick up p.o.o.p for a college educa...tion..." I digress.

"I never met anyone who made a sick ham and cheese sandwich the way you do," he continues when I don't.

"Right." I chuckle, despite the recent revelation that since I'm not going back to college, I do indeed pick up s.h.i.t for a living.

"Do I have to have a reason why, Rose?"

I don't respond.

"I like you. I met you, you intrigued me, and you still do. I want to get to know you. Is that okay?"

I squirm under the covers. "Yes."

"Good."