“Sandwiches?”Really?That had to be the easiest thing to throw together.We were going to have problems over the next few weeks if he wouldn’t let me do my job because he kept thinking of me as someone he used to date, instead of someone he’d hired.
He huffed.“I can microwave a lot of things, but try making a sandwich one-handed.It’s the stupidest things that trip me up.Sandwiches should be easy, but the people who stocked the place got whole wheat bread that hasn’t been sliced.”
Looking at his hand, I nodded.
“It was a bread knife that caused this—” He held up his left hand, where a long red stripe crossed his wrist.
Arne rushed back in with his markers and the notepad he liked to draw in.While he did his drawing, I checked the fridge for contents.Justin didn’t just have bread, he had sub buns, which would make excellent sandwiches as well.
I took some chicken out to thaw so I could make a stew to leave for him.It was something I could cook on the stovetop, in case he struggled taking something out of the oven without burning himself or dropping it on the floor.I had to do something to earn the money Justin was paying.
I kept one ear on the conversation between the two while I cooked, in case Arne got to be too much for Justin.Arne chattered away while he drew on the cast, but Justin didn’t appear frustrated or impatient.Justin had always been a quiet guy, happy to listen more than talk.Guess that hadn’t changed.
“Mommy, come look!”
Arne had been working hard.I could tell, because there were dabs of the colors he’d used on his hands, and even on his chin.I’d realized early that this kid could cover almost anything with food, crayons, Play-Doh—everything he touched seemed to magically spread over himself and his surroundings.
Yep.There was a spot of orange on Justin’s forearm too.
“That’s wonderful, sweetie.”He’d pointed to a vaguely duck-shaped yellow blob on one side of the cast.Then he started to twist Justin’s hand over and I had to stop him.“Careful.We don’t want to break any more bones.”
There was an orange blob with black stripes, and across Justin’s palm,Arnein purple letters.They were big, since he hadn’t mastered fine motor skills yet.
“Very good.”I kept my face straight, but Justin looked like he hadn’t realized just what he was getting into.“Why don’t you put away your markers and grab a book.”
Arne took another look at the colorful cast.“Take a picture, Mommy.So I can show Grandma.”
“We can’t take a picture of Mr.Johnson without his permission,” I warned.
Arne turned his big blue eyes to Justin, and I could see the resistance crumble.“It’s okay.”
“But only the cast, not his face.”
Arne frowned but agreed with a long-suffering sigh.I pulled my phone out of my pocket and Justin laid his cast on the table.A couple of shots of each side, with three of his own name, and then Arne ran off happily.
Justin was still looking at the cast, turning it from side to side.
“You can say no to him.Or tell me, and I’ll keep him in another room.”
Justin looked up.He wasn’t smiling, but almost.“No, I like this.Next time someone sees the cast they’ll be more interested in the artwork than asking me why I have it.”
“I’d like to look at your hand now.Make sure there aren’t any problems.”
He held it up.“Go for it.I had a long list of things to watch for from the team doctor.”
“I’m sure you did.But I’m supposed to report in on you, remember?”
I took careful hold of the plaster.I checked the skin and fingernail color.No blue, so it looked like the circulation was good.I ran my fingers over the ends of his fingers where they escaped the cast, making sure the skin was healthy to touch.He stilled beneath me, and I found it difficult to breathe.The air felt thick and heavy.His callused fingertips brought back memories.
Erik’s hands had been smooth and manicured.Justin’s were rough.He used to apologize to me when he ran his fingers over my skin, as if I’d be hurt by his touch.Those hands had been the first to hold my hand, to caress my face, glide over my body, and bring my skin to life.
I’d frozen, holding his hand while memories washed over me.I blinked and set his hand back on the table.
“That looks good.”My voice was raspy.I cleared my throat.“So, what are you doing before lunchtime?Is there anything I can help with?”
Justin pushed his chair back and stood to his feet.“I was going to use the treadmill.”
I stood up to go with him.“Okay.Maybe I should spot you.”I wasn’t going to just sit and drink tea.