Room for Recovery Page 8

  Compared to her, Beau was a novice and his head ached from all the rules he’d tried to quickly cram for the games he hadn’t played before.

  Nate had a blast, though, and he’d forgiven Beau for standing him up the month before. So, it had been worth it. Plus, it’d been fun to be around people who didn’t judge you on anything but your ability to strategize battle sequences in a game.

  Not like Wade, who was so embarrassed by Beau that he made up lies.

  Beau had pushed that incident to the back of his mind so he could focus on gaming, but now it resurfaced bitter as black licorice. Making up some story he was a tutor was so lame, he couldn’t believe Wade had kept a straight face while doing it. Even though Wade was popular, Beau had always thought he didn’t really care about that kind of stuff.

  The more he thought about it, the more pissed he got. He picked up his phone, still fuming, and shot off a quick message.

  Beau: You don’t have to give me rides anymore

  His heart beat hard as he stared at the message, knowing he’d have to face the consequences if Wade took him up on it. He put the phone down, figuring Wade might not answer right away. Then he stood and changed into flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt and went to brush his teeth. It was only a little past nine, but he was wiped out.

  When he returned to his bed, his phone showed a notification. Wade had replied.

  He pulled back the covers and propped up his pillows, getting comfortable before he opened the message stream.

  Wade: Why not? You replacing me?

  Beau read Wade’s words with a mix of relief and anxiety. He hadn’t taken Beau up on his offer to cut off contact, but now Beau would have to explain. He pecked out the words, deleted some and tried again. After several rewrites, he hit the send button with trepidation, his stomach twisting with nerves.

  Beau: No, but you obv don’t want people to think we’re friends, making up that crap about me being your tutor. I’m just giving you an out.

  Wade: I don’t want an out.

  Beau watched the three dots start and stop several times before a longer message appeared from Wade. As he read the first, a second popped up and a third, before he could digest the words and reply.

  Wade: Here’s the thing, I wasn’t lying, exactly. I was about to ask you to help me with my English class when Anna came over. Mom wants me to get a tutor, and I’d rather ask you than some stranger. But the thing is, I already told Anna I had a tutor, so she wouldn’t volunteer, so I couldn’t “ask” you in front of her.

  Wade: I shouldn’t have lied, but I was worried you’d ask me what the favor was and then I’d have to either make up something or give away that I’d lied to her and … yeah, I’m a stupid liar who lies. But not to you! And not because of you. Shit. I don’t even believe me right now.

  Wade: I’ll understand if you still don’t want to be around me, but I swear I’m not embarrassed to know you, and I do want you to tutor me, if you’re willing.

  It was a lot to take in. He wasn’t sure Wade had ever spoken that much to him. His panicked response went a long way to soothing Beau’s ruffled feathers.

  When Wade finally stopped typing, Beau considered his perception of what happened that day. Wade hadn’t been lying because of Beau, but he’d been lying to his girlfriend, which wasn’t exactly cool. Still, it’d mostly been a harmless lie. Telling his girlfriend he already had a tutor wasn’t a crime against humanity or anything.

  Beau sighed, knowing already he didn’t have the willpower to withstand a sincere apology. He had no way to be sure Wade hadn’t taken the opportunity to call him a tutor to explain away his presence to his friends, but he seemed sincere, so he decided to take him at his word.

  Beau: I guess I accept that explanation.

  Wade: Seriously, man. We might not be BFFs, but everyone knows we’re like family. Why would I lie?

  Beau sighed. He had a point there. As much as he found that description to be annoying as hell, it was the one Wade had latched onto.

  Beau: Guess that’s true. I’m like a “brother.”

  Wade: From another mother. And father. And like every other relative, so maybe not the best description.

  Beau laughed, relieved they’d moved past the tension. As angry as he’d been, he hadn’t looked forward to losing the small pieces of Wade he’d gotten to see during their limited interactions. Wade was someone he wanted to know, to understand better. He could be an asshole, but Beau knew he wasn’t inherently bad. He was complicated and frustrating and closed off. But he was also pretty genuine, when he wasn’t lying to his girlfriend, and he’d done Beau a huge favor by carting him around town after Jeremy and Billy cornered him.

  He owed Wade a favor in return.

  Beau: I guess I can tutor you. When do you want to start?

  Wade: Thanks. I’d rather never start, but how about Sunday after family dinner? I’ll be at your place anyway

  Beau: Sounds like a plan

  ***

  Sunday, after they’d eaten, Wade followed Beau to his bedroom. He’d brought his backpack with his latest paper, wrinkled and labeled with that embarrassing D, as well as some resource books he’d checked out from the school library.

  As soon as they were inside, Beau closed the door — shutting away the rest of the family to Wade’s relief — and sat down at his computer desk, where a desktop computer rested, along with a printer, a cup of pencils and a thick trigonometry text. In Ashe, students had to complete Algebra I and Algebra II to graduate. Beau was clearly an overachiever.

  Wade turned away, overwhelmed by Beau’s academic success. What if he couldn’t pass this stupid class even with help? What if he had no choice but to drop out of high school because he’d screwed off for too many years to catch up?

  “Where do you want to start?” Beau asked.

  Wade shrugged, prowling the room to distract himself. He felt like a caged tiger, full of nervous energy.

  Beau’s bedroom was an eclectic mix of geek and cool guy. He had a fascination with comics. Action figures, stacks of actual comic books — Wade thought people just watched the movies these days — and even some comic art on the walls gave the room its geek vibe. But he also had band posters, a guitar in the corner just begging to be played judging by the layer of dust on it and the amp next to it and a shelf crammed with books. Popular books like the Harry Potter series and the Fire and Ice series, which even Wade had read, and classic books like The Great Gatsby and Count of Monte Cristo and everything in between. He always knew Beau was sweet and smart, but now he had some added dimensions to his character.

  He imagined him sitting at his desk, posed over a keyboard as he slammed out a paper that would fight Wade like a gator. He’d rather wrestle an alligator, in fact, than rewrite the essay he’d just bombed. But if he didn’t want to be stuck in high school forever, he had to figure it out.

  He could picture Beau kicked back in bed, a comic book open over his thighs, or curled up in a corner with a book. What he couldn’t see was Beau playing that guitar. Maybe because it looked so forlorn and unloved with its layer of dust.

  Wade picked up a Captain America figure — one of several Avengers lined up on a shelf — and raised an eyebrow in Beau’s direction. “Still playing with toys?”

  Beau blushed prettily, his lashes lowering as his eyes closed. “No. I just collect them.”

  His thin shoulders raised, giving him a hunched, defensive look that Wade regretted. He shouldn’t tease Beau when he was here for his help. Besides, he found it kind of charming that Beau was so authentically himself.

  “It’s cool,” Wade said.

  “Have you really never been in here?” Beau asked, as Wade returned the figure to the shelf and moved to the bed.

  It seemed strange that in three years Wade had never popped in for even a minute, but he’d avoided Beau as much as he could. He’d avoided everyone, but especially Beau because he sensed he could like him if he let himself. Wade usually spent his time in the Ja
mes household in a quiet corner with earbuds in.

  “Seen it from the hall, but that’s it,” Wade said with a shrug. “I’ve been in Maggie’s room.”

  Beau stared. “Um, why?”

  Wade laughed. “I had to return some gifts she tried to force on me. I went in to leave them on her bed. It was very … pink.”

  “She’s more into purple now.”

  Wade smiled crookedly. “And you’re more into superheroes.”

  Beau looked embarrassed, but he held Wade’s gaze this time. “I used to be into comics.”

  “Used to?”

  “Went through a phase when I was fourteen. Thought I’d be the next Stan Lee.” He laughed. “I even made some of my own comics.”

  “No way. That’s cool.”

  Wade couldn’t imagine being that creative. Most of his energy was spent on video games and avoiding his little sister.

  “Yeah, well, there was one vital flaw in my plan.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I can’t draw for shit.”

  Wade snorted out a laugh, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he mumbled through his fingers.

  Beau laughed with him, shrugging off his failing. “We can’t be good at everything.”

  Wade plopped down in the center of Beau’s bed, gaze roaming the room. “Just close to it, huh?”

  “Not that close. Have you ever seen me try to play sports?”

  Wade shook his head. “Nope. But I’m no quarterback either.”

  “You’ve got the body for it,” Beau said, before biting down on his lip and looking away. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, you ready to get started? We don’t have that much time.”

  Wade decided to accept the change in topic. He’d always been aware of Beau’s crush, so it wasn’t surprising he’d notice Wade’s body. But his comment still made Wade’s skin feel hot and his insides squirmy. Best to redirect his thoughts before he gave in to the temptation to flirt with disaster.

  He had a girlfriend. He wasn’t available. And he might be gay, but he wasn’t going to act on it.

  As he moved closer and Beau reviewed his paper and made some notes for him to review before starting his rewrite, he repeated the mantra to himself.

  Be the man your father wanted you to be. Just hold it together, Wade, and think things through.

  But as had been increasingly the case in the past year, the words rang hollow. Never had they felt more impossible than as he leaned over Beau’s shoulder, breathing in his scent and staring at the chestnut hair curling over the nape of his neck. Wade wanted to touch him, to just feel the heat of his skin, the silkiness of that hair. To press his lips to it.

  “So, is that a good start?” Beau asked, breaking the intense wave of longing that hit Wade.

  He hurriedly took a step back, putting more space between them. “Uh ... I guess?”

  Beau held out his essay. “Just review my notes, see what you think about them, and then combined with that and what Ms. Carrow wrote in the margins, we’ll come up with a plan for a rewrite. Is this the only thing you need help with?”

  Wade barked out a laugh. “No.”

  If only you knew how much help I really need …

  “Okay, so what else?”

  Wade shrugged. “I’ll be doing a term paper soon. I want to rewrite this one, so I can get a better grade and position myself better, but the term paper will be way more important.”

  “Yeah, that’s a big part of your grade,” Beau said. “I can help you there too.”

  A weight Wade hadn’t even been aware he’d been carrying lifted from his shoulders, and he exhaled a gusty breath in relief. “Thanks, man.”

  “It’s no problem. You helped me, and now I’m helping you. It’s what friends do.”

  He said that last part cautiously, as if Wade would object to calling them friends. But he realized that he didn’t. Beau was becoming a friend.

  “Well, still. I’ve been stressed out. I can’t be in high school forever, you know? But writing is not my thing. I failed last year, and now . . .”

  His face blazed with embarrassment. He hadn’t even tried last year. He’d blown off class to go hang out with friends, friends who’d graduated without him.

  “Weren’t you like a straight-A student before you moved here?” Beau asked.

  “That was years ago. I was a freshman. And I gave a shit about grades back then.”

  Beau nodded. “Well, for what it’s worth, it means you can do it again. But you’ll have to give a shit.”

  Wade looked away, pissed at himself that he’d let it come to this. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Aren’t you taking some college courses? Are they going okay?” Beau asked.

  Wade nodded, glad he could report something more positive. “Yeah, ironically, the college classes aren’t that challenging. I have public speaking on Monday nights, and it’s been pretty easy so far. I’m also taking geology, but it’s mostly an online class. We only show up for tests, so I just go through the exercises and it hasn’t been a problem.”

  “That’s awesome,” Beau said with a big smile. “We’ll nail this English paper problem, and you’ll be golden. Next year this time, you’ll be a graduate with some college credit to boot. Nothing to worry about.”

  Wade kind of wanted to hug Beau for that. He settled for a friendly punch to the shoulder. “You’re awesome. Thanks for helping me.”

  Chapter 10

  The emergency room was flooded with people as Beau entered the hospital. A stomach bug was going around, and every seat was filled. A couple of people even sat on the floor or leaned against walls. The waiting room was a nerve-grating symphony of coughing, rustling clothing as people shifted in their seats, and a small child’s crying.

  Beau glanced to the harried admittance clerk in sympathy, but there was nothing he could do to help. The ER was one of the most strained services at the hospital, according to Uncle Xavier — and that was after a new urgent care clinic had opened. Xavier and Trent both volunteered about sixteen hours a week there, and Beau had considered volunteering there as well, but it was a small operation, and there wasn’t much an untrained professional could contribute.

  Unfortunately, the ER couldn’t benefit from an untrained volunteer either, so he continued through the corridor, bypassing the vending machines and taking a right to the elevators. He rode to the second-floor gift shop, which was his starting point of operations.

  Ashe Medical Center was a small hospital, so he wasn’t assigned to one specific floor. He went where he was needed. When the staff was busy, they sometimes asked him to escort a patient to their room or down to the exit upon release.

  That’s how he met Amos Jacobs.

  Beau delivered a bunch of balloons to a young girl who’d just had surgery. Nothing serious; she had her tonsils removed. She was in good spirits, surrounded by family and gorging on the ice cream the nurse brought her, so Beau didn’t linger.

  On his way back to the elevator, the charge nurse called him over. He detoured to the nurse’s station.

  “Hey Trish,” he said, having met her before.

  “Hey, hon, can you take Mr. Jacobs to 20A. The staff has their hands full right now, and he’s been waiting a while already.”

  “Of course.”

  She called Mr. Jacobs up to the desk and introduced Beau. Amos had a full head of white hair and wrinkles for days. He seemed in good health, but it wasn’t Beau’s place to ask what brought him. Hopefully it was something routine and relatively safe.

  “This way,” Beau said, leading Amos down a corridor of rooms where patients stayed leading up to a surgery. These rooms turned over relatively quickly since many patients were there just long enough to be prepped — Beau liked the idea of nursing but didn’t envy them the task of shaving people’s various parts — and briefly after they returned from surgical recovery. Many procedures were outpatient, so Beau hadn’t seen the same patient more than twice.

  Amos followed him
to the room. He was dressed in khaki slacks and a button-down shirt in pale blue, with a corduroy jacket that reminded Beau of a stereotypical college professor.

  Beau pointed out the hospital gown on the bed and showed him the attached bathroom.

  “You’re awfully young to be a nurse,” Amos said.

  Beau smiled. “I’m not a nurse. I’m a volunteer.”

  “Aha.”

  “I’m a senior at Ashe High,” Beau added. “Do you have everything you need?”

  “Sure, sure.” Beau turned to leave, but Amos spoke again. “Hey, but sit down and tell me about yourself. I could use a good distraction. My surgery is scheduled for the morning, and I’ll be watching the paint peel before long.”

  Beau hesitated. “Do you have any family or friends joining you?” he asked. “We could call someone if you don’t want to be alone.”

  Amos smiled sadly and shook his head. “I’ve outlived them all, I’m afraid.”

  Beau didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t imagine watching his loved ones die day by day.

  “Well, I could—”

  “Ah, forget it, you’re busy. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  Beau glanced at the clock. It was only quarter to seven. “I’m here until eight. You’ll need to change and get settled, and I’m sure a nurse will be in soon, but I’ll come back after making sure I’ve got all my duties covered. How does that sound?”

  “Thanks, son. If you have the time, I could use a nice diversion.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “I hate hospitals.”

  Beau laughed. “I’ll see what I can do. See you later, Mr. Jacobs.”

  Amos waved a hand. “Bah. Call me Amos,” he said. “We’re about to be friends.”

  Beau smiled and withdrew, promising to return later.

  He did a few deliveries and escorted one more patient to a room before he was able to return to 20A without worrying he was neglecting other needs.