Vivian Arend - Turn It On

She examined the posters and furniture. Everything was as close a duplicate as possible to what he had at the nursing home. It would make him feel more comfortable and increase the likelihood he could spend a night. After talking with the nurses and physicians, she understood Carl needed to remain at the care center most of the time. She wanted to at least attempt to provide an opportunity for the occasional overnight visit. Ryan had looked very surprised when she proposed setting up the room, yet she knew he’d been quietly pleased.

She ran down to the basement to grab a load of laundry, humming a carol. Walking back through the living room she could see the results of her morning’s work. The house had begun to feel festive. She’d set up her laptop in the kitchen, working on a project while she baked cookies for Christmas. Last night Ryan had brought down the first couple of storage boxes of decorations and she’d already emptied them. She passed the garlands and streamers wrapped around the railings of the staircase and many happy memories rose to the surface. There was a lot of house to decorate still, and yet she looked forward to it all. It was another chance to introduce Ryan to some of her family traditions.

Satisfaction welled up inside. He’d been much more careful to ask instead of order her around lately. Except in the bedroom. There he seemed to be getting bossier than ever, and she loved it.

She paused in the middle of folding towels in the master bathroom. She loved him . Time passed unnoticed as she stood silently, watching her refection in the mirror as the knowledge swept over her. She was in love. And she suspected he might feel the same way about her.

While neither of them had said it, there was more to their relationship than the friendship they shared. Far more than the sexual games they played. The feeling inside when she woke in the morning with his arms around her, and the expression in his eyes when he kissed her good night—it was love.

Now she needed to find the right time and place to tell him.

She burst out of the bathroom filled with excited energy. A sudden movement to her left caught her attention just before pain exploded in the back of her head. She slammed into the nearby dresser, rolling off to crash onto the hardwood floor. Her arm and shoulder hit hard, there was a loud cracking noise and searing agony linked her head and her arm. Blackness enveloped her.

The world spun, pain throbbed through her arm and head, and something liquid and sticky clung to her forehead. Maxine rolled over and was violently sick, the vomiting racking her body with pain. She attempted to rise to her elbows to stop the splitting agony from taking over. She waited until the spasms stopped, gasping through her sobs, trying to focus. It took a while to remember where she was and the muted light around her echoed with the rasping sounds of her frightened breathing. The stabbing shards of pain that drilled through her every time she moved made her cautious, hesitant to shift position.

What the hell had happened? Had a floorboard collapsed? She found her mind flitting from idea to idea. Was it an earthquake, or had she fainted? None of it made sense and the world wavered again. Brightly colored swirls hung before her eyes, and she blinked back tears. She drew a shaky breath and let it out as slowly as possible, reducing the noise she made to listen for the sound of anyone near by. If she didn’t move the pain in her head and shoulder reduced to a mild throbbing. It ached, but not enough to make her scream. Oh hell, she didn’t think she could cry out for help, the idea of making any noise above a whimper hurt. She lay on the floor, cold creeping into her body. Shivers started, triggering the pain to return stronger.

She had to get help for herself. Ryan wouldn’t be home for hours and she was sure she would lose consciousness before then. Nausea rose again and she fought it off. It was impossible to reach the stairs and crawl them. Her cell phone was downstairs. Slowly Maxine rolled to her belly, crying as she released the pressure on her injured arm and shoulder. Something trickled down the back of her neck. She realized it was blood and shuddered. Lowering her forehead to the floor, she cried as quietly as she could, attempting not to move, not to let her body become aware of the fear hovering around her.

She wanted Ryan. He’d take care of her; he was always taking care of her. She remembered his expression as they’d made love that morning, the passion and the tenderness wrapped together, their bodies and souls connected. A tear rolled down her cheek and landed on her arm, and suddenly there was a thin glimmer of hope.

The sensor.

Ryan had installed a moisture sensor in the bathroom. If she triggered it, the alarm would call someone to check the house in less than fifteen minutes.

Dragging her body along the floor took forever, but when Maxine attempted to rise the room spun so hard she toppled to the ground, exacerbating her arm and shoulder injury further. Guiding herself with her good hand she stuck as close to the vanity as possible until she finally reached the other side. She had to get the sensor wet for long enough to make it react. Her mouth was dry, the water taps too far above her head to try and reach. She stared longingly at the tub, even the toilet, but the water in them was as good as being a mile away. Blackness covered her vision again and she laid her head on her arm willing it to pass. Just a little longer. She needed to stay conscious for just a little longer.

She shuffled closer to the wall to feel her way to the sensor. Desperation drove her and gave her more strength than she thought possible. It was there, the narrow tube, low to the ground. Touching her fingers gingerly to the back of her head, she drew them away sticky with moisture. It took a few repeats to gather enough blood. It was cold on the floor, her head ached, and tremors racked her body before the blessed sound of a faint beeping from the main floor reached her ears.

Maxine put her head down and let the pain wash over her, numbness and darkness taking control.

Machines hummed in the background, low and unnatural, and there was a lingering odor that reminded Ryan of antiseptic cleansers and recycled air. Hospitals tried to make their rooms as pleasant as possible but they still were fucking awful places.

He stared at Maxine, tightly clutching her hand that lay on top of the pristine white sheets.

“You should go get a coffee or something. They said they don’t expect her to move for an hour with all the drugs they’ve pumped into her.” Maxwell Junior slid into the chair next to him.

Ryan glanced up in surprise. He’d never been so distracted on a mission to miss the arrival of another person into his immediate area. Of course, he’d never been distracted by having to sit and watch someone he loved lie in a bed, beaten, with a concussion. “You’re one to talk. Don’t you have a wife and baby to go home to?”

Junior nodded. “I’ll head home soon. I hoped I’d still be here when she woke. I need to know she’s okay.” He hesitated for a minute before lowering his voice. “You’re going to make sure she’s okay, right?”

This was about more than the injuries that caused Maxine to lie so still and pale. “You wondering about my relationship with your sister? That’s a matter between us. I thought I made that clear the last time we talked.”

Junior sighed. “I’m not asking what your intentions are or offering to meet you for pistols at dawn. I love my sister a lot and she means the world to me, but she’s got a mind of her own. I’m just curious if you’re planning on sticking around. The ass she was with before was all wrong for her, but there’s something about you I like.” Maxwell leaned back in his chair. “Even if you do cheat at cards.”