She even took me to physical therapy. Which I was grateful for, because physical therapy sucked. It hurt. It was the most frustrating thing ever. I had to relearn how to use my knee. Something as simple as bending was painful and difficult. If Mom had been there, she would’ve been worried by the pain I was going through.
But Macallan stood there and helped me when I needed her. She did her homework while my therapist was working on me. And she gave me the strength to not give up, throw a fit, or cry. Which I wanted to do on a daily basis.
After a particularly painful session, Macallan sat next to me during my ice and stim.
“How you feeling?” she asked.
“Better,” I lied.
Kim, my therapist, set up my stim machine. “He had a good day today. I have total faith that he’ll only be in his brace at the dance in a couple weeks.”
“That’s great!” Macallan gave me a big smile.
Kim patted her on the shoulder. “You may need him to lean on you more when you dance, but you know how boyfriends can be.”
Macallan gave Kim a puzzled look. “Um, yeah, but Levi and I aren’t …”
“Oh!” Kim looked at both of us. “I thought, um, I didn’t mean …”
How often had this happened to us? Too often to count. It made sense that Kim would think Macallan was my girlfriend. I’d told her that I had a girlfriend, I’d talked about Macallan a lot, Macallan was always here with me. But I racked my brain trying to think if I had brought up Stacey by name. Surely, I couldn’t have neglected to mention her name.
“Sorry,” I apologized to Macallan. Like it was my fault that people always assumed we were together. But maybe it was.
She shrugged it off. “It’s okay. Maybe if you’d let Stacey come with you …”
I knew I was an awful boyfriend to not let Stacey help me. But I liked having this time with Macallan.
“Anyway” — she sat upright — “today was pretty epic at lunch. Keith was all ‘me want food, me hate food in cafeteria, me deserve better.’ ” Whenever Macallan imitated Keith, she pretended he was a Neanderthal, which maybe wasn’t far from the truth. She hunched over and stuck out her jaw. “Then Emily was like ‘Oh. My. Gawd. You’re, like, a picky eater for someone who thinks pizza is a vegetable.’ ” And whenever she pretended to be Emily — or any girl, really — she put on a Valley Girl accent, twirled her hair, and made her eyes really wide.
It was incredibly entertaining and made the silliest high school encounter hilarious. It was better than actually being there.
“You’re such a Mean Girl,” I teased.
“Hey, I’m telling it like it is.”
“So what else happened today?” I asked. I was heading back to school on Monday and wasn’t really looking forward to it, even though I knew it would be good for me to have some normalcy again. I couldn’t continue to live in my Macallan bubble, no matter how much I wished I could.
She hesitated. “Well, actually …” She bit her lip; it seemed like she was a little nervous. “You know Alex Curtis?”
Alex Curtis? He’d graduated the year before. He’d been on the basketball team, and was really good. We’d hung out a few times this summer before he’d headed off to Marquette.
“Yeah,” I said, harsher than I meant to sound. Alex was a good guy, but I didn’t want Macallan to think so.
“Well, I ran into him a couple days ago and we were talking, and, um, our moms were good friends.” I could tell Macallan was stalling. “Yeah, so he’s going to be around for the dance and offered to take me.”
Macallan was going to the winter dance with a college guy? A college guy she apparently had a history with? A college guy she’d talked to a couple days ago without mentioning it to me?
“Cool” was the only lame response I could come up with.
Relief flashed across her face. “Yeah, he’s really nice. And I didn’t even think about the dance when we were talking, but he brought it up. He asked who I was going with and when I said nobody, he …” Her cheeks flushed. “He said it was an egregious crime, which he felt it necessary to correct.”
She giggled.
I wanted to barf.
“You like him, right?” she asked.
Did I think Alex Curtis was a good guy? Sure.
Did I want to punch Alex Curtis in the face at that exact moment in time? You betcha.
Why couldn’t I tell her that? Why couldn’t I just tell her how I felt? Why did I fight something I wanted — no, something I needed so badly?
But then I flashed to Macallan leaving after I’d confessed my feelings for her. How awkward she’d been when she first came back from Ireland. How I hadn’t wanted to drive her away.
But maybe things were different now?
I opened my mouth, daring myself to finally man up. “Macallan.”
“Yeah?”
The buzzer on my stim machine went off. Kim came over to remove the ice and pads.
“Levi?” Macallan looked at me with concern. “Was there something you wanted?”
“Never mind.”
Time was up.
I began to focus on what I did have: A wonderful family. An awesome best friend. A group of guy friends. And a girlfriend.
That was what I needed to concentrate on.
Stacey insisted on having some people over the Saturday night before my, as Keith had put it, “legendary return to South Lake High School.”
“There’s my bro,” Keith greeted me now, gently putting me into a headlock. “Dude, we missed you at school. Who else am I going to cheat off during trig?”
I smiled and played the part of the happy guest of honor. When I maneuvered my crutches and leg brace to the closest couch, Stacey sat down next to me.
“What can I get you?” she asked. “Do you want something to drink or eat?”
“Just some water, thanks.” I knew I was being grumpy, but I was on some serious painkillers, and even soda made my stomach woozy.
Stacey got up to get me some water. I watched her move across the room, greeting everybody, being the perfect hostess.
I realized there was a line of people there to talk to me. I felt like it was a funeral for my football career, with people offering their condolences. Even though the guys kept telling me I’d be fine, I was the one who was speaking to the doctors. They’d confirmed it was going to take several months to get back to somewhat normal, and even then it would be hard for me to pivot and switch directions easily. The best hope I had for senior year was track. Running straight should be fine. At least I hoped it would be.
I was itching to run so I could clear my mind. And if there was a time in my life when I needed to get focused, work out issues, it was now.
I smiled politely and thanked everybody who came up to me and told me they hoped I felt better and that I’d be back to running in no time.
All I could do was sit there. Stacey had disappeared, probably talking to someone else in the kitchen.
I really needed that glass of water.
“Hey there,” Macallan said, setting a glass of water and a plate of brownies on the end table. She sat down next to me. “Enjoying your audience?”
“Oh, I am so happy to see you.”
“You’re happy to see my brownies.”
I’d been hesitant when Stacey brought up the idea for the party. In the middle of me giving her reasons for why it wasn’t a good idea (I wouldn’t be up to it, I didn’t want people feeling sorry for me, they’d see me in a few days, I didn’t want a big deal made out of it), she cut me off with “Macallan will be there. She thinks it’s a great idea.” She didn’t say it in a way that led me believe she resented Macallan. She had always understood about my relationship. She knew how things were with us.