ée Carlino - Nowhere but Here

“Thank you.” I laughed.

“We don’t want to bother you guys while you get settled in, we just wanted to give you a hug and say welcome home.” They both hugged me at the same time.

“You two are sweet.”

My apartment looked untouched. I scurried around, embarrassed, trying to clean up, open the blinds, and air the place out. Jamie set the food on the counter and watched me until I stopped. “What?”

“Your place is nice.”

“I’m sure you don’t think that. It’s eight hundred square feet of uninspired space.”

My apartment was a simple U-shape. The living room and kitchen were open to each other, and the windows faced the street. A short, skinny hallway led to my decent-size bedroom and bathroom, which had one window facing the courtyard at the back of my building. I joked that it had been finely decorated by the wonders of IKEA and Target, and Jamie laughed.

I watched him slowly take it in. He picked up a framed photo of my mother that was sitting on a small end table. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

“She was.”

Jamie was a presence in my small apartment. He stood near the counter, taking the food containers from the bags and opening them up. When I approached him, he removed his jacket to reveal a plain white T-shirt. I ran my hands up his forearms and studied his strange tattoos. They were interwoven in a pale reddish ink. “Did you get all of these in Africa?” He nodded. I brought his hands to my mouth and kissed them. He gently pulled me up to kiss his mouth. His hand went to the back of my neck, just below my injury. I winced. He quickly pulled away.

“See, we can’t do that,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

“It was too much. I could hurt you.”

“I’m okay.” I grabbed the food and carried it to the small square table at the edge of my kitchen where it met the living room. “What would you like to drink?”

“I’ll get it,” he said. “You sit down and eat.”

“I’ll have a beer,” I announced.

“I don’t think so, lush. You’re not allowed to drink on your medication.” I was taking a few different medications for the swelling and pain. “In fact, I think it’s time for one of your pills.”

We ate practically in silence. I was starving and Jamie just sat there and watched me like a hawk, searching for any indication that I wasn’t perfectly comfortable. I took my medication and within half an hour I was feeling very groggy and ready for a nap. He walked me to my bedroom and motioned for me to sit at the edge of my bed. He removed my shoes and placed a soft kiss on the tops of both feet. He reached for my hands and lifted me to a standing position and then unbuttoned my jeans.

“I can undress myself. Shouldn’t you check your blood sugar?”

“I’m fine.” He pinched my chin with his thumb and forefinger and lifted my face until we were gazing into each other’s eyes. “I like undressing you.” He left me in panties and my T-shirt and then tucked me into bed.

“Aren’t you getting in here with me?”

“I would love to, but I think you need to get your rest. I have a few things to take care of. I need to call Susan and get my stuff from the hotel. Dylan said he would come and watch you so I could do that.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Well, I would feel better with someone here.”

We spent the next week figuring out how to exist in such a small place together when Jamie wouldn’t allow me to do anything except lay around, read or watch TV. We had our first fight over whether or not I was allowed to bend down and shave my own legs . . . seriously.

“I can do it for you. I’m very good with a razor.”

“You’re insane. You’re not shaving my legs.”

“I don’t think you should dip your head down, it might make you dizzy in the shower.”

“You need to back off a little.” We were standing inches apart, face-to-face near the bathroom door. He towered over me, making me feel like a child.

“No, I won’t!” He said in a determined voice. “That’s what I did before, and you ended up almost bleeding out on a fucking subway.”

“This is not the same thing. Nothing is going to happen to me. You’re smothering me.”

“I’m going for a run. Please wait to take a shower.” He lifted the bottom of his white T-shirt to draw his earbud wires up through the neck. He was wearing gray sweats and trainers. Jamie could pull off sweats—he had one of those low angled V-cut stomachs. The sweats hung just below where the side indentations began. My mouth dropped open. I thought about slipping my finger in and tugging the waistband of his sweats down. I was practically drooling, even though I was totally pissed at him. I looked up to find him glaring at me, with a thick sheen of moisture near his sideburns.

“You’re sweating already, Jamie. Have you checked your blood sugar?”

“I don’t need you to keep reminding me,” he barked.

“You’ve been doing the same thing to me! How do you think I feel?”

He walked over to the entry table where his insulin pen was. He grabbed it and swiftly jabbed himself in the side without pinching his flesh. “There, happy now?”

“You shouldn’t do that without metering.”

“I’m fine! I’ve been living with this most of my life. What happened to you is different. It was a trauma; you were attacked.”

“I know what it was.”

“Then why can’t you understand why I’m worried?”

“Is this our first fight?”

He paused in front of the door and took a deep breath. In a low voice he said, “Please, Kate. Please wait until I get back to take a shower.”

“Only if you’ll join me.”

A tiny smile touched the corners of his mouth. “Only if I can shave your legs.”

“Fine.” I rolled my eyes.

That night I let Jamie shave my legs in the shower. It was intensely erotic, or at least he made it seem that way. Damn tease. He still wouldn’t go any further than kissing me in bed. He showed great restraint; I’ll give him that, but the caretaker act was getting old.

At my follow-up appointment, Dr. Coco gave me permission to resume normal activities. I made him write it down so that I could wave it in Jamie’s face every time he tried to do something for me or every time he tried to prevent me from doing something normal. Every day since I was home, Jamie asked me if I wanted to try and ride the subway. The answer was always no.

We spent one Saturday cuddled up on a bench, sipping hot cocoa at Millennium Park.

“Christmas is in four days. Can you believe it?”

“No, it’s so soon. Are you going to go back to Napa for the holidays?”

His jaw clenched. “Why would I do that?”

“Well, I don’t know, you have Susan and Guillermo there.”

“They have families of their own.”

“Don’t you have things to take care of at the winery? And what about your organization in Africa?”

“The winery and organization run themselves. I do a lot when I’m there, but it runs smoothly when I’m not. My first priority is you. So what are we doing for Christmas? Should we get a tree and decorate?”

“That would be fun. I haven’t done that since I lived with Rose.”

He squeezed my hand. “What do you want for Christmas?”

“I want you. I want to make love. I don’t want you thinking about my head injury while we’re kissing. Do you think you can manage that?”

Smiling, he reached over and fluffed the back of my hair. “I’ll see what I can do, even though you still have this silly hair to remind me.”

I punched him in the arm. “Jerk.”

The next day, Jamie let me go shopping with Beth. He made me go through a checklist before I left, asking me a hundred questions to make sure I was up for a long day away from home.

“You’re not gonna spy on me while I’m shopping, are you?”

“I might. If you feel the slightest bit dizzy or nauseous, call me.” Jamie had started to use a cell phone again, but he never texted on it. I knew why. “What’s the plan for tonight when you get home?”

“I want to write a little, but my computer has a glitch. It keeps crashing, and I’m worried I’ll lose work. I have another older laptop in the closet. I might try and get that one working.”

“Okay, and what about dinner? Do you want to stay in or go out?”

“Let’s stay in.” I walked up to him and slipped my hand down the front of his sweats. I grabbed him and squeezed. He gasped. “Maybe we can go past first base?”

“I think I can arrange that,” he said.

The doorbell rang. Jamie quickly darted off to my bedroom. I swung the door open to a smiling Beth.

“Let’s shop till we drop.”

“You’re being sarcastic?”

“Yeah, I hate shopping. Jamie practically begged on his knees for me to go with you.”

“You mean he asked you?” She shook her head up and down dramatically. “Jamie, you’re in trouble!” I shouted.

“Have fun, ladies!” he yelled back. I grabbed my new purse off the table.

“I need to go by the bank first; I haven’t gotten my cards back. Do you mind?”

Before Beth could answer, Jamie shouted again from the other room, “I put a credit card in your purse.”

“Hold on one sec,” I said to Beth.

I stalked off to my bathroom and found Jamie standing completely naked in front of my sink, brushing his teeth.

I marched up to him. “You!” He spit toothpaste into the sink and turned toward me, exposing himself. He grinned arrogantly.

“Yes, dear, what is it? Have I upset you?”

“I have my own money . . . and you have toothpaste on your lip.”

He grabbed both my wrists, held my arms down, and bent so that we were face-to-face. “Can you get it for me?” I squirmed and tried to break my arms away, but he held them firmly.