Authors note: If you like my story please vote, add your libraries, and comment. It lets me know that you enjoy the direction it is going in. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Enjoy!

Chapter 41

"I'm ready," I said, and he came back in and sat at the edge of the bed.

"How's your leg feeling?"

"Throbbing, but nothing too bad."

"Do you want some water?"

"Sure," I said, and he left downstairs to get me water.

I laid down on his bed and looked up at his ceiling.

His room smelled so strongly of him; it was so different from Maria's cool-toned and modern taste. I looked around and noticed the walls were just bookcases placed one after the other. He had books everywhere. By his computer, on his chair, his nightstand, the bed. There was a fire going in his brick fireplace; it was nice, cozy even.

I picked up the book at arm's reach on his nightstand. I remembered it was the book I saw him with on the plane that first day I came here, Pablo Neruda's: Love Poems. I opened it up to a page he had marked with a paper. I recognized his bookmark as the note he passed me in chemistry—the one where I drew a funny face.

The poem in the book read:

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

Risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way than this:

where I do not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

He had underlined the last stanza, and I wondered if it was because he just liked the way it sounded or if it reminded him of someone. I felt my stomach drop at the thought of it being the latter.

Suddenly I felt confused. Why did it bother me? I quickly surmised that it didn't actually bother me and that I was just obviously rattled from the fall. Maybe I did hit my head.  I heard a noise from down the hallway and I quickly closed the book and placed it back on the nightstand. Robbie came back into the room with the doctor, they rolled in a machine that I assumed was to give me an x-ray.

"Lia, this is Anna," He said, introducing us.

"Hi," I said and felt my cheeks become warm as I became suddenly embarrassed she came over due to my clumsiness.

"Alright, sweetheart, let's look at your leg," The doctor said. She was an older woman with her grey hair in a braid that went down to the middle of her back.

The whole process took around 20 minutes. In the end, my leg was not broken but very badly bruised, and I was at risk of getting a hairline fracture on my shin. The doctor said I had to keep my leg up for a few days and no running for at least four weeks. I groaned at that last part but was thankful that was the worst of it.

"My insurance is at home, but I can send it with Robbie—" I started.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I am doing this as a favor. I am long retired. Take care of this boy, if you want to pay me," she said winking, packing her things, "he's very special," she added, ruffling Robbie's hair.

Robbie went to help the doctor take the x-ray machine back downstairs. I sipped my water and continued my sleuthing. I had never been to Robbie's room, and he was always so tight-lipped about his life. The little I knew about him, I learned through passing comments Maria made. On the nearest bookshelf, I saw a picture of him and a man who looked so much like him. They had the same smile and wavy hair. I knew him from Maria's room as their dad. They were on a boat in the picture, and Robbie was hugging him around his waist, a big grin on his face. He seemed like such a sweet boy. He was always so serious now.

Robbie came back into the room and saw me looking at the picture.

"That's my dad," He said.

"I know. Maria has shown me pictures,"

He went over and plucked the picture from the bookcase and handed it to me.

"This is a really nice picture," I said, looking at it more closely.

His dad seemed like a kind man; you can tell some people are just by looking at their eyes. They're filled with warmth and comfort. Maria had eyes like that. She must have gotten them from her father.

"He would have liked you." He said, walking around the other side of the bed to sit on it.

"Oh yeah? why do you say that?"

"Because you're the kind of person he would have valued."

"How so?"

"You are kind like him, and you care about everyone." He said, shrugging, "My dad was like that. He always made soup if we were sick, and he noticed if people were feeling down. He would invite people to stay with us if he thought they would be lonely. He never forgot anyone's birthday; he always called them and sang them a happy birthday. It didn't matter if they weren't super close."

"It sounds like he was a really special person."

He nodded.

"What happened?" I dared to ask.

"Maria never told you?" he asked, turning to look at me.

"An illness?"

"Well, he was sick, but he died much sooner than expected in a car accident,"

"Jeez, I'm so sorry, Robbie," I said and grabbed his hand to squeeze it. He flipped his hand and laced his fingers with mine.

We sat in silence for a while; the sounds of our breathing and the crackling fire were somewhat hypnotizing.

"Your hands are so small," He said suddenly.

"Well, I'm almost a foot shorter than you; it would be weird if they were the same size," I said, and he chuckled.

His arm looked really tan next to mine, and I noticed he had some light scars on his arm. I traced them lightly, I noticed my restraint around him was weaker than usual. I must be more tired than I thought.

There were goosebumps on his arm as I touched him.

"Jesus, Lia," he breathed.

"How did you get these. Were they at the same time as your lip?"

"Yeah, a car accident."

"The same as your dad?"

He nodded shyly.

"Oh, no. Robbie," I sighed. "I'm so sorry," I said, furrowing my brow and shaking my head. "I can't even imagine going through something like that."

"No. No. I don't remember any of it. So, it's as if I didn't go through it. Honest."

I felt my eyes getting glassy anyway and a tight feeling in my chest.

His eyes widened and I felt his grip tighten on my hand, "Shit, I didn't mean to make you sad. I really don't remember anything of the accident and barely anything from that day itself. I don't know whether it's a good thing or a bad thing."

"Why a bad thing?"

"I mean, it's good that I don't have, you know, trauma? It's just... it was the last day I spent with my dad. We had gone out to get lunch. I uh... after he died, I've handled finances, and I saw he used his card that day at this sandwich diner. It's so weird to know something happened but have absolutely no memory of it.

I bit my bottom lip and felt my heartbreak for him.

"You know I actually went to the diner, like a year ago, and I just sat in a booth, and I looked at the menu, and I just thought, what did we even order?"

I sniffed, and he whipped his head to look at me.

"Oh no, don't cry, Lia,"

"Ignore me," I said, waving my hand, "I'm a cry baby. I see dog commercials, and I weep."

"You didn't cry when you fell," he said, wiping a tear from my cheek with his thumb.

"That was more physical pain. I don't really ever cry with that." I said and let out an embarrassed laugh.

"I mean, car accidents can be really traumatic. Sometimes our brain does things to protect us, without us even realizing it," I said.

"Yeah. I mean, I do remember one thing, or I don't know everyone I've told this to says I must have imagined it, but I remember this man there," he said, frowning.

"I remember him so clearly. I must have been strapped into the car, and I was upside down, and I saw this guy looking into the car. Like peering into the broken window and then just walking away. It was so unsettling.

"Like he was a ghost? I don't get it." I said slightly embarrassed at my suggestion. 

"No. I don't think so?" He laughed and ran a hand through his hair, "I don't get it either, it just every time I think about it, I get a weird feeling. Like this sinking feeling." 

He sighed, leaning back on his headboard; his legs were stretched out in front of him, his thigh against mine.

"What a strange day," he whispered.

"Strange things are happening to me." I softly sang.

He laughed and looked at me. "Is that a real song?"

"Yeah, it's the one from Toy Story, you don't remember?" I said, expecting him to know what I was talking about and thinking he was taking a dig at my out of tune singing. I looked at him, and he looked lost.

"I've never seen it."

"Shut up," I said in disbelief, my mouth open in shock.

He shrugged, "I didn't grow up in the States. Is it a big deal? Am I missing out on something?"

"Kind of. It's actually one of my favorite movies. It was the first American movie I saw when I got to the United States, so it is somewhat liminal for me," I said.

"Want to watch it?"

"Like now?" I asked, taken aback at his inquiry.

"I mean unless you had something else to do," he said, looking at my bruised leg, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

"Good point. Alright, put it on."

We watched the movie in silence; I was so nervous I could feel my heart thumping in my chest. Then he cracked up at a particularly funny scene. His laughter was amazing and infectious. He looked at me, and I grinned back at him. For the rest of the movie, I sneaked looks at him when funny scenes were coming up, I was a junkie now, and I wanted my fix.

"Can you stop?" He chuckled.

"I just want to make sure you appreciate certain parts," I explained.

He looked at me with laughter in his eyes, "Lia, you are so weird." He said, pushing my face lightly with his hand.

The movie finished, and he turned to me, "That was really good."

"Right? I love that movie. It never gets old," I said, leaning back on his bed.

"Do you have any other funny movies?"

"Hmmm, have you ever seen Planes, Trains, and Automobiles?"

"No, want to watch it?" He asked, already reaching for the remote.

"Sure."

To my delight, he laughed even more with this one. About halfway in, my eyes started getting heavy with the medication the doctor gave me, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. I felt him freeze for a split second, and then he shifted and brought his arm around me to cradle my shoulders. My hand came to his chest. I could feel his heartbeat through his t-shirt.

'This was nice,' I thought to myself before falling asleep.

I woke up again to see it was dark out; I heard the soft pattering of the rain. Robbie moved from underneath me.

"I didn't mean to wake you," He said, "I was going to go to the spare room."

"I don't want to kick you out of your room," I said, sitting up.

"It's okay; it doesn't bother me. Go back to sleep."

"Did you like the movie?"

"Mhm."

"That's good, I'm glad," I said, laying my head back down.

"Hey, Robbie?" I asked, noticing a painting on the far side of the room.

"Yeah?"

"Is that a real Jackson Pollock?"

"Yes. You like it?"

"Yeah, I like his surrealist art a lot more than his splatter pieces. You always find something new when you look at them," I said, my voice drunk with sleep.

"Me too, that's why I took this one from my dad's study. I like to look at it every so often to see if I find something new; oftentimes, I realize I'm looking for certain things in it. His paintings are very human that way."

"What do you mean?"

"People both look for and then see what they want most of the time, despite what is actually there," he said, looking at me.

I squeezed his hand, and he brought my hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on my knuckles. "Get some rest." He said, and he left, turning off the light on his way out.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

A/N

Hope you guys enjoyed it! Please leave your thoughts and comment, like, vote, and add to your libraries if you liked it!