You Are Here

The fresh stitches in my hand ached, regardless of the amount of Novocain pulsing through my body. I could still feel my fingers and my wrist and most definitely every inch of my palm. Every so often I would move my hand in an odd way and a sharp pain would shoot from my fingertips to my elbow causing me to wince and fight back tears.

I walked up and down the aisles of the local CVS, they would have my anti-infection and anti-pain drugs ready in an hour, but driving to the Inn then all the way back would be a complete waste. Kenton was at least fifteen miles from Bryton. But they were both nothing in comparison to Charleston and Columbia.

I picked up a National Geographic and sat down in one of the plastic chairs next to the Pharmacy counter. It was hard to focus on the words and the pictures on the page. The words jumped around and nothing looked as it should. I could feel my legs sticking to the plastic chair and the sweat crawling it's way down my back. I felt absolutely disgusting, I couldn't wait to get home and take a hot bath. Wash away the days aches and pains.

When my prescriptions were finally filled my father and I got back in his ancient station wagon and drove back to the Inn. Past miles and miles of peach groves and then past miles and miles of absolutely nothing.

"You can't do something like this again." I couldn't think of a response. It's not like I had stabbed myself on purpose. No one would. "We don't have insurance and this really set us back. We just don't have the money to keep fixing everything that gets broken - especially you."

"I'll be more careful next time."

"Damn straight you will."

When we finally pulled up into the drive I was more than happy to get out of the beyond hot car and into the less hot outdoors. The sun was at it's highest and the sweat was already covering my skin. I walked down the freshly weeded drive and noticed the entire front porch had been scraped.

There was no trace of any dirty peeling paint anywhere. Keegan had done this while I was in the ER. He was trying to be nice to me, to make up for inadvertently being the reason I cut my hand in the first place. No one had ever done something like this for me before, no one was ever in that position either.

I jogged inside and up the stairs. There were only two floors and my room and the majority of the guest rooms were upstairs. I walked past room after room until I got to Keegans. I knocked hard on the door with my good hand and waited impatiently.

The door swung open and he stood there almost daring me to speak to him. I couldn't help but notice that he had ditched his shirt and had a lit cigarette hanging lazily from his lips. His window was all the way up but I could have told him that wouldn't help. I was almost shocked at how nice his body was, though I should have expected it and I shouldn't have cared. But I did, just a little.

"What do you want?" He took a deep drag and examined the lit end of his cigarette. He was not pleased to see me.

"To say thank you." The words fell out of my mouth with a noticeable nervousness.

"For what?" He took another deep drag and blew a ring of smoke in my face.

I coughed and waved my hand trying to relocate the toxic air, "For finishing the porch."

"I didn't do that." He smirked and took a final drag before throwing it on the floor in front of me and putting it out with the toe of his shoe. I felt instantly childlike and stupid. Why should I have expected that he would do that, it was my chore not his. His work for the day was weeding, not paint scraping.

I didn't know what I had expected, for us to become best friends. Just because he had helped stop the bleeding didn't mean he was going to instantly start sharing secrets with me in the dark. I wanted to turn on my heel and run straight to my room and hide underneath the safety of my sheets. His knowing smirks couldn't belittle me there.

"Sorry for thinking you did." I couldn't think of anything else to say. I had never had such an issue with words or talking then when I was around him. With my father and mother everything made sense and I was never left feeling awkward. But this was totally different, it was like everything that could have been said just vanished.

"Why are you still standing here?" I flinched at his harsh words. No one had every spoken to me like that, in such a hurtful way. No one at school even talked to me and my parents were always so caring. It seemed so wrong that someone could be so full of hate.

"Fine I'm leaving." I took a step back and mumbled, 'Heartless bastard.'

His face instantly changed at my words. The annoying smirk was replaced with a hurt stunned look that I couldn't put my finger on. I didn't think he had heard what I had said in the first place, but I ignored it and began the short walk to my room.

"Don't call me that again." His words had no joke to them, no malice behind them. It was a serious tone that came out of nowhere.

"Don't call you what?" I felt like for once I had the upper hand, I could annoy him instead of the other way around. It felt good.

"Don't call me heartless." His words were a monotone, one that reminded me distinctly of the steady beep on a patient who has just died. Obviously this was no joking matter and really upset him. I wanted to know why I couldn't call him heartless but I wanted to be mean more.

"It's what you are." I shrugged and started off towards my door again. There was no use trying to get a reaction out of him, so I gave up.

"No it's not!" He shouted at me. All of his calm had vanished and he raised his voice and lost control. The child inside me returned and was scared. I was so overwhelmed by the fact that I really didn't know Keegan aside from how little time we'd spent together and how much I hated him. I had no idea that he would react so suddenly and fiercely, he reminded me of a grenade. You're holding it thinking you've done nothing, then bam it's exploded and you're left wondering how you could have been so dumb. I mumbled a scared sorry and snuck into my room. He was still standing in the hall fuming when I shut my door.

I dropped my meds on my desk and flopped down on my bed. I could feel the hot stale air around me but I was too worn to do anything about it. I knew that I should open my windows and take a bath but right now laying face down on a creaky mattress was just too appealing.