Some Days

It only took 12 hours to be officially discharged. The nurse John had lied to went with the lie for the duration of my stay – even though it was painfully obvious she knew the truth – and even told doctors working on my mother’s case that John was allowed to know anything that deals with my mother’s status.

Once discharged, I took Regan to the little kid’s playground outside to talk to her. We sat on two of the swings and I explained it to her the best that I could. She seemed to understand as well as she could that my mother – her grandmother, the lady she knew nothing about – was in the hospital for different reasons than me. “Mommy has heart problems,” she recited to me when I explained the difference. “Grandma has head problems?”

“Yes,” I agreed with a nod. “Mommy remembers everything you do and say. Grandma can’t, even though I know she wishes she could.”

Regan pondered this for a moment. I’m sure it wasn’t the easiest thing to fully understand. Most adults had a hard time grasping the science behind it. “Does it hurt?”

I pursed my lips. “I’m not sure, baby. We can ask the doctor when we get back inside, he’ll tell us. Any more questions?”

She tilted her head slightly and mimicked my pursed lips. “Will you get it, too? And me?”

“There’s no need to worry about it, okay?” I said. “You know mommy will do everything to protect you.”

“I know,” she chirped, then ran away from the swings and over to the rocking animals, clearly done with the conversation. I sighed heavily and closed my eyes.

“John!” she cried happily. I opened my eyes to see John smile brightly at her as he approached the playground. “Come play with me!”

“In a minute, baby girl,” he promised and ruffled up her hair as he walked past her. She fussed with it for a moment, trying to get it back to its original state, then abandoned hope and continued playing. He took a seat in Regan’s abandoned swing and looked at me.

I hated how calm he always appeared to be. It made my stomach bubble with anxiety. “Any news yet?” I asked softly.

He slowly shook his head. He reached his hand out and his fingertips brushed against my cheek, then his palm pressed against my skin and I leaned into his touch. “Garrett’s mom is here,” he said. “And your phone was ringing like crazy so I finally answered it. Payton is on her way here. She also asked that I tell you she’s not mad at you.”

Payton. How I had missed her. I had so many things I needed to tell her. I needed to hear her tell me so many things that I already knew but couldn’t bring myself to accept. I needed her, plain and simple. I could tell her what happened and she would be able to help me figure things out. Because Lord knows, I was drowning in this mess.

“Garrett?” I repeated, panicked. My stomach dropped and I shot up from the swing. I raked my hands through my hair, pacing back and forth. What would he say? Would he mention the sex in front of John? Would he mention it at all? What about the fact that I left him alone in my house without any sort of word as to where I had gone or what was going on? And worse of all – what would John think, do, and say? “Jesus, no, not him. Please. John, don’t-”

John was standing in front of me, his grip on my shoulders firm to keep me from moving. He lowered himself to be at complete eye level with me. “Not Garrett. Garrett’s mom is coming by to see what she can do to help. Is that okay?”

I started crying. John patiently brushed my tears away with his long fingers and waited for me to calm down. It took several minutes. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay. Just- just not Garrett.”

He didn’t question it. He didn’t even blink twice at my insistence that Garrett stay away from this situation. He was content with letting whatever happened between Garrett and I stay that way.

“This might be bad timing, but I have a question for you,” John mumbled, suddenly reverting back to his teenage days where he’d shy away and find the ground immensely thrilling. I sniffled, roughly dried my cheeks one last time, and then reached up to tilt his chin so he was looking at me. He sucked his lower lip between his teeth when his eyes met mine. He quickly dipped his head to press his lips to mine – it was a sweet but forceful, passionate kiss. I was taken aback, unsuspecting of that kiss, and threw my arms around his neck to keep from falling back a few steps.

When he broke away, I was left breathless. I stared, dazed, for a couple seconds, then remembered he had a question. “What were you going to ask?”

He softly pecked my lips once more, as if he couldn’t get enough. I tried to keep my mind in the present but his actions were bringing me back to senior year.

“Okay, you obviously aren’t grasping this concept the old fashion way,” I stated, moving around on his bed. I crawled out of his grasp and sat directly in front of him, cross-legged, with the pile of index cards in my lap. “We’re going to try something else. Something more exciting.”

He sat up, intrigued. “Exciting? You can make history exciting? Bring it on, Nolan Greeley.”

I pursed my lips and gave him a glare that dared him to challenge my tactics. “For every right answer, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. For every partially right answer, you’ll get a kiss.”

“And if I’m wrong?” he questioned smugly.

“I put two pieces of clothes on,” I retorted. His eyes widened. I was barely wearing anything to begin with – a tank top and pair of shorts – so I had a feeling I would be raiding his closet and drawers for some extra layers.

“Jesus. Okay. Let’s do this.”

I shuffled through the index cards. “Okay. Which country was annexed by Germany and USSR?”

John groaned loudly and fell back against his pillows, hands covering his face. “Start with an easier one.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “No! You know this one, John.”

He groaned again. “What if I pass a question?”

“I put on one thing,” I replied. “But come on, you know this. Here, we’ll up the stakes. If you get it right, you can strip me. But just of the one piece of clothing, not all of it.”

He peeked out at me through his fingers. I wiggled my eyebrows. “P-Poland?” he stuttered.

I grinned and grabbed his hands, pulling him back up into a sitting position. “What would you like to strip me of, Mr. O’Callaghan?”

His fingers grabbed at the hem of my tank top and his body closed in on mine, causing me to lean backwards and eventually fall back onto his bed. He smiled sweetly and kissed me softly, quickly. He kissed me again but pulled away just before it got heated. He looked at me and kissed me once more, but immediately pulled away. “Stop,” he whispered. He pecked my lips. “Little kisses right now.”

I smiled as he peppered my face with light, sweet kisses. “Next question?” I asked and he kissed my lips in response. I glanced down at the index card in my hands, then back up at him. “When did Japan attack Pearl Harbor?”

“December 7,” he answered easily, leaned in and kissed me.

“What year?”

“1941,” he mumbled against my lips, slowly tugging my shirt off. He lowered his hips to mine and dropped my tank top to the floor. He steadied himself over me, with his hands on either side of my head.

I stared at his arm muscles. “When was the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima?”

“August 6,” he said. He leaned in for another little kiss but stopped himself. “1945,” he added, then kissed me a dozen times.

I grabbed the back of his neck and held him against my lips, begging for something more than the feather-light kisses he’d become fond of suddenly. He laughed into the kiss, dropped his body onto mine, and deepened the kiss.

“What are you going to do when I leave for college in another state?” I asked breathlessly. “You won’t have an awesome study buddy anymore.”

“Assuming I even go to college,” he muttered, “I’ll spend every minute just waiting for you to come back.”

My eyes watered with the threat of another way of tears. God, I was a horrible person. John was staring at me, concerned. “Nolan?”

I shook my head stubbornly, waving my hand dismissively. “What was your question? Sorry. I lost myself for a second there.”

John tilted his head, staring at me with a dozen questions in his eyes. He kissed my forehead, directly between my eyes, and cupped my cheeks gently. “I just. I know Regan knows I’m her dad – she keeps saying how much we’re alike – so I just wanted to know if it was okay with you if we told her. You know, that she could call me dad. If she wanted to.”

I burst into tears, the sobs shaking my body. I couldn’t believe he had forgiven me for leaving him and keeping this from him for so long. I couldn’t believe he had moved past that, or at least put it aside for now, and was willing to move forward and be such a huge part of Regan’s life.

Through bleary eyes, I looked up at John. He looked startled but at the same time, I could see that he expected the tears. I nodded my head subtly and cried harder, burying my face into his chest.

“Please don’t cry,” he mumbled into my hair. “I need you to stop carrying around all of the guilt from leaving. You did what you thought you had to do. I realize that now. I don’t blame you anymore.”

“I ruined your life, though,” I choked.

He tangled his fingers in my hair and took a tiny step back so he could see my face. “I might have thought that when you left without a trace, but I was immature then. I see how beautiful Regan is and I understand. But now I want to be there for her, with you.”

I nodded again, sniffling slightly. “Okay. She would like that.”

John smiled and kissed me. He detangled his fingers from my hair and turned to Regan, playing without a care in the world. She had no idea. John looked at me, waiting for permission, and I chuckled slightly, wiping my nose with the back of my hand.

“You don’t need my permission anymore,” I told him. “She’s yours, too.”

John smiled widely and headed toward Regan to talk with her. He sat on the little rocking lion next to her rocking elephant and started to explain. They were too far away to listen in but I couldn’t tear my eyes off of them.

“Nolan!” I turned sharply, eyes scanning the area for Payton. Then, out of nowhere, she appeared and was practically jumping into my arms. “Jesus! Fuck, I’m so sorry! Do you forgive me? God, I was such an asshole! I had no idea, Nolan. I’m so, so sorry! I’m such a horrible best friend.”

“Payton,” I said softly, drowned out by her constant self-berating. She continued for a while longer. I just sighed and let her get it all out.

“I’m sorry,” she softly concluded. “There’s no excuse for how I acted. I’m here now. I’m so sorry.”

“A lot has happened since you left,” I told her simply. She stepped back for a moment to look at me. She narrowed her eyes. I knew exactly what she was thinking. “Yeah.”

“Jesus,” she muttered to herself. “Okay. Does he know?”

Her eyes shifted to John, laughing and tickling Regan. I grimaced. “No. Not yet.”

“Alright, okay. Well. We’re not going to worry about that. We’re going to focus on your mother right now. But first, I think it would be best if we get you something to eat,” she commented, her eyes judging my thinning physique. She grabbed my hand and started dragging me. “I know stress messes with your appetite but this is getting scary. Hi, I’m taking Nolan for lunch.”

John looked up at the sound of Payton’s voice. I wasn’t sure if they had formally met before – I’m sure the only time he had seen Payton was the day he walked into my house and saw her sitting with Regan on the couch. But he recognized her voice from the phone and nodded. “I’ll take Regan inside soon,” he told me.

Payton escorted me to the parking lot and toward her rental car. She drove us as far away from the hospital as possible so we would be able to talk in private. Once we had decided on a place to eat and had our food, I told her everything. No detail was left out, not even the intimate ones – upon her insistence.

“So you just left him in your bed?” she asked, slightly amused.

“My whole life had kind of just fallen apart,” I replied hotly. “I didn’t exactly stop to think about the boy I’d just fucked.”

She looked down at her plate and pushed around the contents. “What are you going to do?”

“Pray he doesn’t find out before I can figure out how to tell him,” I answered honestly. “And then pray even harder that he doesn’t hate me all over again once I do tell him.”

“Do you still love him?” she innocently asked.

My cheeks flared. I will always love John O’Callaghan.

The only problem is if he could say the same about me.