Page 57 of Torn
“Hey… what are you doing home?” I ask, taking the bags into the adjoining kitchen and putting them on the counter. I pull outmy phone and send a quick text to my dad to let him know I’m safe and sound.
“I hurt my back again at the shop yesterday.”
“Oh no, again? Did you take your pills?” He’s had problems with his back ever since his truck was rear-ended while he was at a traffic light years ago.
He nods. “A bunch of them already. Why the hell do you keep knocking? You have a key.” His tone is edgy from the pain as he turns to reorganize his pillows behind him.
I empty the grocery bags onto the kitchen table and start putting things away. “I feel weird just walking into your house when you’re home. It feels rude and invasive.”
“Kenzi, you can come in anytime. I’d never have someone over here in the middle of the day if that’s what you’re worried about. I have a job, remember? And I don’t walk around naked. So just come in.”
“Okay.” I admit I’m happy to hear he doesn’t have women here during the day, but then, of course, I wonder if he has anyone over at night.
“I was going to make you a beef and broccoli stir-fry for dinner. Do you feel all right to eat?”
“That sounds great, actually. All I’ve had to eat today is a Valium, Vicodin, and an orange juice cocktail, so real food would be good.”
After I put the groceries away, I cross the room and sit on top of the coffee table in front of the couch to talk to him. His eyes are glazed from the high of the pills, making them look like glassy onyx gems.
“Tor, you can’t take pills on an empty stomach like that.”
“You sound like my mother.” He scowls.
Diogee sits up and lays his head on my leg, peeking up at me with his big black eyes.
“Hi, puppy. Did you miss me?” I lean down and kiss the top of his head.
“He’s an attention monger. He’s constantly nudging my hands to get petted or laying his head on me, like he just did to you, with that face.”
Laughing, I rub the dog’s ears. “I think he’s good company for you.”
“Yeah, I guess he is. He sleeps with me every night and at least he’s still here in the morning.”
I try to ignore that comment that hints at more info than I care to know right now.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask. “The heating pad? Or maybe an ice pack? What helps with the pain?”
He shakes his head. “None of that shit helps.”
“Okay. I’ll just vacuum and do your laundry, and then straighten things up a bit.”
“Skip the vacuum. The noise will make my head explode.”
“All right. What else can I do to help? Maybe you should take a hot bath or shower?”
Squinting, he falls back against the pillow, grimacing in pain. “I don’t fucking know. I’m sorry, Angel. I’m in a ton of pain. I can’t even think straight. Just pet the dog and make dinner. You don’t have to do anything else.”
Seeing him in so much pain and the cranky mood it’s put him in bothers me and makes me want to do something—anything—to make him feel better. When I was younger, I used to rub his back and evenwalkon his back sometimes when it was hurting him, with my mom yelling that there was no way that could be safe for a back injury, but he said it felt good. Giving him a back massage would probably be really inappropriate after what’s been changing between us recently, though, so I nix that idea.
He opens his eyes and grins when he catches me looking at him.
“You still look at me the same way you did when you were a baby,” he murmurs.
“How’s that?”
“Like I’m the only thing you ever want to look at.”
Not breaking eye contact, I smile at the truth in his words.