Part 29 (1/2)

Chapter 30.

All the wind had been wrestled from her when Erva woke with what she thought would have been a scream. Without any breath, it sounded more like a bark, a mournful silent gasp. She clutched her comforter-realizing it was her sad, colorless comforter-clinging to anything to get some air into her lungs in a dark room-her dark room, the only light a pale gray from an early morning sun not yet awakening and the chartreuse numbers from her digital alarm clock. At the same time, she was too scared to breathe. If she did, then that meant she was back in her time. Without Will.

Like the sun that would surely rise, she didn't ask for it, but it came: the air she needed to stay alive. It shook her body, convulsing her into one giant sob. Then she bawled into her pillow. Maybe she cried for an eternity. Maybe only minutes. But in the midst of dryly weeping, Erva was distracted by her pillow. She'd bought it at her mother's insistence. It was thin and had some kind of made-from-petroleum fake stuffing in it. Fitting, Erva thought, comparing her pillow with her mother. And that was when she'd had enough.

For years silent resentment had resided in her body, screaming long after she'd had a visit with her mother. Her internal anger had shadowed her everywhere, except with Will when she'd let it go. The way Will accepted her had been magical. It had broken her Sleeping Beauty spell, the curse of repressed anger.

She knew she would cry more for Will, but it felt sacrilegious to do so in a bed not of her own choosing. On a fake pillow. She lifted herself, tears pouring down her face, but the moisture turned into self-righteous fury in a flash. Ripping her not quite gray, not quite beige sheets, pillows, and comforter from her bed, she screamed. Not too loud. Heaven forbid she alert her neighbors. Then Erva thought of the term, heaven forbid-something Will would say, and she yelled again. But she wouldn't mourn in her apartment. Not the way it was. It wasn't her, and Will would only want her to be herself.

She didn't care that she had constant tears rus.h.i.+ng down her cheeks. She didn't care what she looked like. Grabbing a close-by pair of jeans, she flung them on then a t-s.h.i.+rt too. Except lifting her right arm, she winced and yelped. There it was. Proof she wasn't crazy. It was still bleeding too, her gunshot wound, which looked more like a wide and deep scratch, reminding her of what she'd had, where she'd been, what she'd lost.

Okay, she thought to herself, she had to get some st.i.tches, then she would change everything. Her apartment, all the furnis.h.i.+ng, everything had to go. c.r.a.p, what day was it? Her iPhone was on her nightstand, where it always was-no longer in a Greek box in New York two hundred years ago. Grabbing it, she read that it was Thursday. Wednesday, yesterday, had been her day from h.e.l.l before she'd met Will. She hadn't missed a thing from her time. She sobbed again, thinking she'd call in sick at the university. h.e.l.l, she was going to the hospital anyway. She'd just call in sick today and tomorrow too. Because she needed time to change her apartment to match what had happened to her internally. It had to be her place now. Or maybe a place Will would have liked. A place he would have smiled in and curled up with her on the couch.

She nodded as she watched blood seep through her t-s.h.i.+rt, knowing she'd have to go to the emergency room. G.o.d, she hated doctors.

”How did you say you got this injury again?” Dr. Morgana asked as he finished the last st.i.tch in Erva's shoulder. They were in a small curtained off part of the emergency department. Everything was a cloying pink color, and the effervescent lights made the color radiate into something psychotic. The only relief for Erva's eyes was the white floor and Dr. Morgana's blue scrubs.

She sighed and looked at the clean-as-a-plate s.h.i.+ny tiles under the doctor's rolling stool. ”Just moving things around my apartment. I guess I'm klutzy.”

The thirty-something, hunky-as-h.e.l.l doctor lifted one dark eyebrow. ”You don't strike me as a klutz. You have an athletic build.” He cleared his throat. ”I mean, as a doctor I noticed your build. Of course. I'm not trying to come on to you or anything.” He rolled slightly away from her as a pink color rose up his neck. ”Unless you want me to come on to you. Of course not. How unprofessional of me.” But he smiled at her unapologetically.

Less than a week ago that would have done it for Erva. She would have grinned back and coyly tried to see what the doctor wanted. But not now.

She did smile though. A little. ”Thanks, doc. But-”

”I should have known a girl like you was taken. Sorry.”

She shrugged, then winced. ”Ouch. Jeez, that seriously hurts. Are you sure you st.i.tched this right?”

He silently chuckled. ”Just because I st.i.tched your supposedly klutzy wound, doesn't mean the pain lessens. In fact, it's often much worse. That's why I recommended numbing it.”

”With a needle. Come on. That's crazy.”

He shook his head with a smile. ”Are you trying to ask for pain killers? Because if you are, I have to ask you a ton of questions about your behavior.”

”They're really cracking down on addicts, huh?”

He tried to hide his smile, but didn't do a very good job. ”Uh, actually, it's a good way to be nosey and find out if the man in your life, whoever he is, is worth you.”

She blinked, not sure if she should think the doctor was a wee bit stalker-ish, or a wee bit sweet.

He pushed his stool over to a countertop and started writing on a notepad. ”I do have a prescription here for some antibiotics. You were current with your Teta.n.u.s shot, which utterly surprises me, considering your aversion to needles. I want you to take the antibiotics because your wound was pretty dirty when you came in. And I am prescribing you a couple Percocets if the pain is bad. Or for a good time. Your choice. And” -he wheeled closer and looked at her st.i.tches, dabbed at it a little with an iodine swab, then a clear cotton one- ”I left my personal phone number on the last 'script. If your guy is an a.s.s, you can call me. Or” -he looked down into her eyes with a sheepish smile- ”you can call for whatever.”

Just then the psychedelic pink curtain flew back. Ben stood absolutely still as he looked her over then the doctor too. Blond and chiseled, he looked more like a bootcamp sergeant than the often happy, silly man Erva knew. After a heartbeat, he lurched for Erva.

”What happened to you?” He wrapped his powerful arms around her, careful of her right arm. Then he lifted her off the emergency room's bed and settled both their bodies where she had been. ”Some nurse with a weird Mediterranean accent called and said you were shot.”

”Shot?” Dr. Morgana asked.

Erva didn't pull away from Ben. It felt too good to be in his arms. Again, she started crying, while clutching at him with all the might her left arm had. G.o.d, she'd missed him, her best friend, and the most creative creature she'd ever met.

”Miss Ferguson told me she was rearranging her furniture,” Dr. Morgana said.

Ben, as if he knew Erva's heartbreak, cradled her even closer. ”You were rearranging that shrine to your mother? I'm so proud of you, honey.”

She grinned, but the tears never stopped. ”I need your help. I need to get rid of all of it.”

Ben stared at Dr. Morgana. ”What pills did you give her?”

She smiled again. ”I'm serious.”

Ben beamed down at her, his handsome face cheery but perplexed. He nodded. ”Honey, seriously, what happened to you?”

”Well, I can see you're in good hands,” Dr. Morgana said, rising from his stool. He looked at Erva with a small smile. ”Get better soon, Miss Ferguson.” Then he left the small curtained room.

Ben leaned his head close to hers. ”That doc has the hots for you.”

She sniffed.

”He thinks I'm your boyfriend. Want me to go tell him I'm gay? Bill's coming in anyway. He's trying to find a parking s.p.a.ce.”

”Bill loves you.” Erva smiled at her best friend. ”He loves you so much.” For the first time in years, she no longer felt the p.r.i.c.kle of envy when she thought of Ben and Bill together. She'd wanted what they had, and now that she'd had it...the barb no longer stung. But tears did roll down her cheeks. She leaned her head away from Ben and made sure to look him in the eye. ”I'm so happy you found Bill. He's a good man. No, he's a great man. I'm sorry if I haven't said that sooner, but I will from now on, because I love that you found love.”

Ben smiled and wiped at her tears. ”Thanks, sweetie, but you're freaking me out now. What's going on? I get a call that you've been shot, but you were actually moving your mom's c.r.a.p, and now all this sentimental stuff?”

”Hey, I can be sentimental. And that is so weird someone called you to tell you I was shot.”

”Yeah, it was. But...” He never finished. He looked down at her t-s.h.i.+rt. ”Are you wearing a Metallica s.h.i.+rt? You haven't worn that since high school, when you'd sneak it out of your mom's house and just wear it around me.”

She leaned in and kissed Ben's cheek. ”I love you, you know that?”

”Love you too, but-”

”It's time for a big change, Ben, and I need your help. Yours and Bill's. I need everything in my apartment gone. All new furnis.h.i.+ngs. I'm cracking open my savings for this. And don't you dare give me a friend discount. I'm paying you what your clients pay. And we can spend all my savings if we need to. I just...I really need this.”

Ben blinked, then his eyes got wide. ”You'd let me design for you?”

”It's about time you did, huh?”

”Anything I want?”

”Anything goes.”

”What about hair and makeup? New clothes?” a voice asked from a few feet away.

Erva looked up and smiled at Bill. His blond hair was a shade lighter than Ben's, closer to hers, and she wondered if they looked like siblings. Well, to her they were her family. She reached out her hand to Bill who caught it and smiled down at her.