We stepped out onto the third floor, and the phone vibrated again.
“Oh, here’s a fresh one. It says ‘IMAGINE’—in all caps, by the way—‘how silly you would look in front of?—’”
Adair plucked the phone from my hand, smiling sheepishly. “I better text her back. That’s a, umm, serious threat.” His eyes flicked over the rest of the message I didn’t get to finish, his cheeks pinkening as he read.
The nurse on duty waved at us, then typed away onher keyboard, no doubt logging the whereabouts of Dad and Wilbur for their records.
“Why does she need to help with your closet?” I fought against another yawn so badly that my jaw popped.
“I’m colorblind,” Adair said, holding the apartment door open for me. “Red-green. It wasn’t until Delly was old enough to question my inability to match clothes that I took the test and found out.”
“Huh,” I said as I passed by him, unable to conjure a better response.
“Right?” he said kindly, that chin dimple on display.
It was almost the exact size of my thumbnail, I mused, but I had small-ish hands.
Hello, delirium.
The door closed behind us, and Adair brushed up against my back. I jolted, then mumbled an apology as I stepped to the side and gave him room to go by.
Hello, mortification.
I dropped my board by the couch, then quickly got Dad washed up and settled for a nap. He didn’t say a word as we went through the motions. With a soft tug, I closed the curtains just enough to dim the space, but not too much so he wouldn’t be confused about the time of day when he woke up.
“I’ll see you later, Dad,” I said, brushing a kiss on his cheek.
“Happy Birthday, Dancing Queen,” he mumbled into his pillow, and my heart squeezed.
There was no way to tell if he was saying that to the me of now or of memory, but I treasured it all the same.
I closed the door softly behind me and leaned against it, shutting my eyes.
When I gathered the strength to open them, Adair was there, his back to Wilbur’s door, mirroring me.
My heart skipped in a duet with my swooping stomach as we stayed like that, gazes fixed on each other across the apartment. His green eyes were so soft, so terrifyingly soft, and when I couldn’t take even that weight anymore, I looked down.
Muffled, uneven steps marked his approach, and his booted and unbooted feet came to a stop in front of my Chucks.
“Where’d you get the boot?” I whispered.
“Ran into Nurse Emily on the way to the cafeteria. She helped me out.”
“There goes her fruit basket,” I muttered.
“What?”
I looked up at him and shrugged. “Shall we?”
He studied me for a moment, a bemused look on his face as he held his arm out toward the door and stepped back. “After you.”
The ride down to the first floor was silent, and when we made it to the front lobby, Adair tugged on my arm that wasn’t holding my board, pulling me to a stop. “I’ll be right back.”
I nodded and leaned back against the reception desk, unashamedly watching him go. It was still jarring to see him move without his crutch, and I wondered what he would be like once he was fully healed. How he would move through the world, if it would change him at all. As he disappeared down the hall with his uneven gait, I searched my tired memory for the longest lasting foot or ankle injury I’d experienced over my years of dance.
Fractures and sprains weren’t uncommon, but the worst of them took weeks of immobilization to heal, if not surgery.
Adair was definitely not immobile.
