Losing Luke

She was right, it was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the sky a clear blue, the grass an emerald green. Flowers just bloomed packed into bushes and along the walkways into the gardens. The gardens were impeccable. Flush, olive colored hedges surrounded us, cutting us off from the rest of the world. Trees provided small amounts of shade, most of them willow trees, some were apple blossoms, some were maple. Several white iron tables with two chairs each were spread out across the grass. My nurse pushed my wheelchair up to a table near a willow tree, shaded, however the sun still peaked through the cracks. She laid her picnic basket on the grass, bending to take out two plates with sandwiches on them, two tea cups, and a kettle filled with warm tea. The light breeze carried its sweet smell to my nose.
She poured me some tea and then sat across from me, giving me a dazzling smile. I lifted my shaky arms to pick up my teacup, bringing it close to my chest, cradling it in my hands. It smelled lovely and I took a tentative sip. Delicious.
“That, Mr. Neil, is English Twining tea. My favorite.”
I nodded, taking another sip.
She smiled again. “Please. Try the sandwich. It's my own recipe.”
Nervously, I peeled away the plastic wrap from the plate, picking up the sandwich and taking a bite. Oh wow. My eyes bugged out of my head as I chewed the Heaven that just erupted in my mouth.
My nurse giggled. “It's a simple bread I make myself. No yeast, explains the flatness, yes? The sauce is a sweeter chipotle I came up with, there's banana peppers, turkey, ham, and cucumber.”
I take another large bite, savoring the bursts of flavor. It's been so long since I've tasted anything other than Jello and mundane hospital food. My nurse watches me, taking a small bite of her own sandwich, and I realize I don't know her name. Deep inside me I recollect that the old me would have taken it upon himself to know the names of the people he meets, especially the one who so selflessly takes care of him. I swallow, feeling like the food plunked straight into the pit of my stomach.
“What – what's your name?”
My nurse looks up at me, startled and then she smiles. She has a beautiful smile. “Abby. Abby Jole.”
My lips quirk up in a small, although hardly at all, smile. “Pretty name.” I like the way it rolls off my tongue, sweet and tasteful.
“Thank you, Mr. Neil.”
“Evan.”
She nodded, sipping her tea. “Evan.”
“You're going to be my house nurse?” I ask, although I already know the answer.
“Yes.”
“Good,” and I smile, truly happy about going home for the first time in months.

I was checked out a week later, Abby wheeling my chair to the van. She rolled it up the slope, securing it in the vehicle with various clicks and straps. Once she was finished, she came up in a swoop, sending me a grin. “Ready Evan?”
I nod, suddenly anxious.
She slid the door to the van closed, hopped into the driver's seat, and we were off. The hospital was a good thirty minutes from the apartment, every minute seeming to add more nervous weight to my shoulders, twisting my stomach to the point of nausea.
Finally, Abby pulled into the parking lot outside my complex. It took two minutes to get me out of the damn car and roll me up the ramp to the second floor apartment. Damn... how inconvenient.
“They'll be moving you to a bottom floor apartment in a couple of days, Mr. Neil. It'll have the necessary attachments and precautions needed for you.”
I silently take in the information as she steps forward, unlocks the door and swings it open, pushing me inside. All at once, memories and feelings smash into my chest, knocking the air out of my lungs. A lump forms hard and thick in my throat, tears welling into my eyes. I can see him... everywhere.
A strangled sob escapes me, my hand flying to my mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to stifle the sound. Oh God, the pain.
Abby places a hand over mine, but she says nothing. Maybe to give me space? Or simply can't think of anything useful to say? Whatever the reason, she's utterly quiet.
“I... miss him,” I whisper, taking my hand out from underneath hers and roll myself further into the apartment. There he is, leaning over my shoulder at the table to help me fill out job applications. I look into the kitchen and he's there, teaching me how to cook spaghetti. Biting my lip, I glance towards the couch and we're there, watching boring TV, but his arm is draped over my shoulders and he's speaking to me quietly. He talks about the life outside the orphanage, how glad he is that he found me, and how much he missed me ever since he was adopted.
Abby's at my side again, watching my face, but I can't bring myself to look at her. “I see him. Everywhere. He's here.”
“He's not really here, Mr.Neil.”
I glare at her. “Don't you think I know that?”
Her face flushes pink. “S-sorry.”
I lean my head on my thumb and forefinger. “I would like to go to bed now, Abby.”
I notice her worried glance, but ignore it. She wheels me into my bedroom where more memories flood before my mind's eye. I close my eyes against them.

The wind is awfully cold as it whips across the city of New York. I huddle into the gate on the corner of a street, wrapping myself in a ball in an attempt to keep warm. The thin jacket the orphanage had provided for me barely succeeding in blocking off the chill of the wind.
People pass without a second glance, if they even look at all. The cardboard sign in my hand a waste of time. Nobody cares about the boy sitting in a corner. Nobody cares if I'm hungry or if I once had dreams like they do. Nobody cares that I'm lonely and scared. They just keep walking, their heads turned the other way.
I slouch further into the corner, burying my face in an attempt to keep it from getting wind chapped. My lips were already cracked and swollen. I wish I had gloves, holding this sign wouldn't be so painful if I did.
“Holy shit...,” I hear from the distance and then hands are grabbing my arms and hauling me to my feet. I struggle, squeezing my eyes shut. Oh god, not again. Please. I don't have any money!
“Evan? Evan, is that you? Holy shit. It's me. It's Luke!”
Just like that, I freeze, my lids shooting open. It was him. An angel descended from the Heavens to save me.
“Luke...,” I breathe, shocked to my very core. I haven't seen him since he was eight. Holy crap he's tall. And handsome. Jeez, Luke. Could you get it all?
“Evan, Jesus. No wonder you stopped writing. Come on, I'll get you warmed up.”
I smiled, but when I looked at him again, it wasn't Luke. It was Abby smiling at me, her hands rubbing my arms comfortingly, taking me under her wing.
“Don't worry, Evan. I'm here now.” .
I woke up with a jolt, staring at the light blue ceiling of the apartment. The cry on my tongue died instantly and I struggled to sit up. Hands pressed gently on my chest.
“Relax, Evan. It was just a dream.”
Abby's pixie hair and gleaming blue eyes came into sight, a soft smile on her lips. One glance at her and I burst into tearless, dry sobs. Her face went from pleasant sympathy to shock in a matter of .5 seconds.
“Evan? Hey, what's wrong?” She sits next to me on the bed, her arm going around my shoulder. I just cried harder. The sounds ripping from my throat hurt not only physically, but mentally as well. My hands clutched at my heart, as if to somehow protect it from harm. “Jeez, Ev. I'm sorry, whatever is.”
“I miss him!” I cried, the sobs slowing. “I miss him so much...,” I breathed in deeply. “He was my best friend. My best friend and my protector. What am I supposed to do now?”
Abby looks at me, her waxed brows furrowed in a soft V. “You move on,” she whispers, squeezing my shoulder gently. “Even when things seem... impossible, you move on.”
I met her gaze and, without thinking twice, I cupped the nape of her neck and kissed her, hard. I kissed her with pain, loss, regret, passion, confusion, gratefulness, joy, misery, self loathing, everything. I poured it all into this kiss. She made a sound of surprise and I pulled away, the thumb of my other hand caressing her cheek. She stared at me with wide, blue eyes, her breath caught in her throat. I searched her face... for what, I don't know.
And then reality slam dunked into my gut. I just kissed my nurse. My nurse. Who wheels me around in a chair, who clothes me, who bathes me. Oh shit....
“Evan....”
I jerked away from her, looking around the room, anywhere, but at her. Oh, god, what did I just do? I ruined everything! She's going to quit. The best nurse I've ever had. Quit, because of my stupidity! My selfish needs.
“Evan...,” she said again, softly. Her thumb and forefinger grip my chin and gently turn my head so I'm forced to look at her. Her brows are furrowed deeply in confusion, her lips tipped into a small frown. “I don't... um. I don't think things like that are... appropriate between you and I.”
An irrational flash of rejection shot through me, but I quickly repressed it. It's not like that. I nodded. “I um... I'm sorry, Abby. I didn't -”
“It's okay. I understand.”
No, you don't. But I said nothing. She flashed me a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and then she stood up from the bed. “I'll make some tea,” she murmured and left the room.
“Fuck!” I shouted once she was gone, covering my face with my hands as I cried for the second time that morning.