The Boy from the Band

When No Means Yes

There are streaks of light from the street lamps coming in through the curtains and I am afraid Rick can see the damage my face has suffered. I cover myself with my hands because I don't want him to see the lumps and the bruises. I hear the lamp switch click and I say, "Don't look at me, I look hideous."

He pulls my hands away with his gentle touch. "Let me look, I want to know what those bastards did to you. Robbie said you were pretty banged up."

"Robbie told you what happened?" I can't believe what I'm hearing. Why did Robbie call him?

"Yeah, he called me a few days ago, but today was the earliest I could get away. He was worried about you. Here, scoot over a bit so I can sit next to you, do you want a pillow under your head?" It's painful but I nod and he pulls out the topmost pillow and puts it under me. "Now, tell me how this happened?"

I close my eyes because moving is making the room spin. "There's not much to tell, I went to the little cantina down the street to have a drink then left around two. I was jumped by some guys who wanted my purse. I wouldn't let them have it so..."

"You knucklehead, why didn't you let them have it?" he asked, "If you had given them your purse you would have been better off, and this might not have happened."

"They made me mad and I wasn't going to stand for it. They thought they could just take it and I wouldn't fight back, but that's not what happened. I know," I sighed, "It was pretty stupid but I was damned if I was going to let them have it. They beat me up pretty good before a couple of guys passing by saw what happened and stopped it. I think they may have been in the cantina when I was there. They fought them off but weren't able to catch them when they ran. My rescuers called 911 and they took me to the hospital."

Talking is making my head throb and I don't want to discuss this, at least not right now. "Rick, please, can we discuss this later? Talking is making me feel sick and there's not a place where I don't hurt. I feel awful and I just want to sleep."

"Okay, I'm sorry. Here, let me take some of your pillows into the bedroom. I'll come and get you after I get your bed turned down." He disappears into my room then comes back and lifts me as if he's afraid that if he isn't careful I might break. He carries me into the bedroom and lays me down on the bed and removes first my clothes, then his.

"I can't do anything," I tell him, embarrassed, "Not until ten days have passed."

"I know," he tells me, "I expected that,  just go to sleep, you need your rest." He takes me into his arms and for the first time since I was attacked, I feel like I can relax. I spend the night curled up next to him, savoring his warmth and wake feeling rested for the first time in days.

Early in the morning I open my eyes and notice he's not in bed. Afraid of getting dizzy, I get up slowly, and look around to see if he's left. His suitcase and guitar are in the corner, so I lay back down, satisfied that he hasn't taken off, and pull the covers over me. Now that I have him back, I don't want to let him go.

He comes in the door carrying Styrofoam containers with two large cups balanced on top. "I was awake so I got us breakfast and coffee. I figured you needed to eat." He handed a large cup to me, "This is one of those nasty mochas you like so well—careful, it's hot. I got scrambled eggs, hash browns, and toast. I know you have orange juice. I'll get some silverware, do you mind not using plates?"

I check an urge to shake my head. "No," I replied, "that's dishes that don't have to be to washed--and you'd have to wash them anyway."

He ignores me and sets the food down, saying, "I didn't have much to eat yesterday so breakfast sounded good."

We eat, saying little, communicating with our eyes and smiles. How long had it been since I'd eaten breakfast with him, naked? I miss these too few tender moments we used to share. He's over three thousand miles away from me now and we hadn't spoken in six months. I was supposed to start having a "whole relationship" with someone new in place of the half-relationship which had been the best he could offer me. Had he changed his mind?