Sabrina Elkins - Stir Me Up

“I have to speak to Julian’s doctor,” Estella says. She looks at me like she’s waiting for me to do something about this.

“Okay,” I say uncertainly. “I’ll see if I can track him down for you.”

She goes into a sort of brief trance and then snaps out of it and enters Julian’s room. I watch her, fearing for her sanity and realizing more than ever that my father was right to have me come with her. When a nurse passes, I ask her if we can see Julian’s doctor. Her answer isn’t very promising. I slip into the room just to share the news that the doctor will come as soon as he finishes his rounds, however long that takes, and Estella turns and Julian falls into my line of vision and I’m horrified all over again. I try to hide it, but I’m not that experienced at masking such huge reactions.

“Hey, Julian,” I say with fake cheer.

Estella forces a smile, and Julian says, “Get her out.” He says it quietly this time. He turns his face away.

“I brought some German chocolate for you,” I tell him. I actually brought it for myself, but I want him to have it. I leave it on the wheelie half table that goes over his bed. “It’s a bit bitter. But very rich.”

Julian’s hand covers his eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Estella ushers me out of the room. I’m babbling some kind of apology and she’s humoring me instead of being in the room with him like she wants. I excuse myself, head for the lobby and text Taryn, my best friend who’s currently in Los Angeles studying acting at a prestigious summer arts program.

Guess where I am? I type.

PARIS? She replies. LONDON? CANNES? OMG!!! ARE YOU HERE IN L.A.???

NO, I text her. I’m at the military hospital in Bethesda.

HUH? WHY?

Estella’s nephew’s just been flown in from Afghanistan.

HOT MARINE? she texts.

No! He’s a mess. He lost one leg, broke the other...broken nose...neck brace.

I have to wait awhile for the reply. HOT WOUNDED MARINE??

He’s a TRAIN WRECK and a major jerk. He yells at Estella and throws things.

HOT WOUNDED MARINE—WITH ATTITUDE?? Taryn texts.

I roll my eyes and grin, shake my head. You’re insane, you know this.

SPEAKING OF WHICH, I GOTTA GO BRING ON THE CRAZY (ACTING CLASS ;). WAIT, WHAT DOES HE LOOK LIKE WHEN HE’S NOT A MESS? ACH! STOP DISTRACTING ME WITH STORIES OF HOT, HARD AND WOUNDED PISSED-OFF MARINES! I HAVE TO GO TO CLASS!!!

It feels good to laugh.

Taryn’s crazy—in a great way. Crazy-talented at acting, too. She recently signed with an agent in L.A. who’s sent her on a few auditions, but no big breaks yet. I read my book, and eventually Estella comes in and sits next to me. “Julian is going in for surgery any minute now.” Her face seems to crease up like an accordion, just fold into itself.

“Hey,” I say, as soothingly as I can. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s a good thing. He’ll have a bionic leg. Just think of it.”

“I’m trying not to.”

“It’ll be fine.”

She squeezes my hand. “I have to go back. I don’t want him taken into surgery without me knowing it.”

“I’ll be here.”

“I’ll come get you and we can wait together for him,” she says.

“Sure.”

She goes back to wait with him and I call Luke.

“Hey you,” he says. “How’s it going down there?”

“It’s going okay. I wish I was home.”

“I wish you were home too. How’s what’s-his-name, the nephew?”

“He’s a mess.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean his right calf is missing, and his left leg is broken. He’s in surgery getting it fixed now. It’s awful. He yelled at us both to leave the room. Estella burst into tears.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Fine. Estella took some kind of sleeping pill last night and I was worried she’d killed herself.”

“Yeah, try not to let her kill herself.”

“Thank you. How’s work?”

“It’s lonesome. Boring. All the eye-candy is gone.”

I can’t help but smile. “I’m not eye-candy.”

“Yes you are. Hey, a guest found a pit in the cherry granita last night,” he says.

“Oh no! You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not kidding. Fortunately, she didn’t chip a tooth. Even more fortunately, you weren’t the one who pitted the cherries.”

Oh wow, Dad must be completely losing it. “Who did it?”

“Dave.”

“Did Dad can him?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yes. And now your father’s going ape over all of us. At least out there you can keep out of the line of fire.”

I knew Dad would be mad as hell. “I’m in a line of fire of my own. That guy Julian hates my guts.”

“He probably doesn’t want to have people gaping at him. Stay away. You don’t know him anyway.”

“True.” I know Luke’s right. I don’t know Julian, and he is hurt, so of course he doesn’t want me around. But does he have to be so adamant about it? I know I shouldn’t take this personally, but I kind of do.

“When you get home, come for the whole night. Don’t leave at six,” Luke says.

Oh no—now he’s asking for the impossible. “How will I manage that?”

“Tell your father you’re spending the night at a friend’s house.”

“Taryn’s not back yet.”

“Tell him it’s with someone else.”

Who? I wonder. It might be nice to not have to wake up and leave his house so early, but not if it means I get caught. “Maybe. We’ll figure something out.”

I say goodbye to Luke, then call Dad to give him the update.

“What’s going on?” he asks. “How’s Estella?”

“She’s fine. So, Julian’s moving into our house with us this winter?”

Dad pauses. “He’s like a son to her, and he’s going to need some help.”

“I heard about the plan to give him my room.”

“There’s no other place he can go, Camille. We have no choice. Think about it from his point of view. How difficult it’s going to be for him to readjust to life now.”

“I know. But still...”

“You’ll be moving out for college next year anyway,” he points out.

Oh no. Not this can of worms again. After letting me train to be a chef for half my life, my father, in all his wisdom, now insists that doing this for a career is too hard and what I need to make sure I have a good future is a college degree. I don’t want to be anything other than a chef. But Dad wants me to have the kind of “flexibility” and “earning potential” I can get by having both a chef’s capability and an advanced education. I think it’s more about him having to drop out of school to work and never being able to go to a university himself. “Can we not get into this now? Sorry, but I have enough to deal with at the moment.”

“Fine. We’ll discuss it later.”

Again. For the millionth damned time. “Goody, I can’t wait. Hold on, Estella just came in.”

I hand my phone to her, telling her it’s Dad, and the two of them talk for a while. I try not to listen to all the “I love yous.” When she hangs up, we go to the waiting room for the families of people in surgery.

This room is insane. It’s full of stress, thick with it. The occupants have that look in their eyes, like they’re watching each minute tick past. “Maybe we should wait in the hall,” I suggest to Estella.

“No. I have to be here in case there’s word.” She flips through a magazine without really looking at it and sets it down again. “Julian’s being adamant about his privacy. He doesn’t want to receive any fanfare or get any press. No hero’s welcome or calls of support. He doesn’t even want to get in contact with old buddies of his who are still at the base.” Estella’s speaking to me, but to herself really. Her eyes are distant. “I think it’s for the best, him wanting to keep everything so quiet. But I’m not sure.”