The next morning, Lizzie came at his place at the usual time. She didn't took him out for once, they stayed in his kitchen while she unpacked what she brought.
-- You already made a mirror box, Tom asked stunned.
-- Well, you're very much less of a dick when you spend 15 minutes in it, so yeah!
He sulked. He wasn't in the mood for jokes. Pain had woken him up before the sun again and the effect of his meds was fading.
It was not really a box, just a rectangular mirror on a stand. But she set it on the kitchen table after pushing aside empty boxes and dirty plates. She made a face. He should go put on a t-shirt.
He placed himself so that the edge of the mirror rested against his left shoulder and sighed in relief. His arm was back. The pain slowly flushed away as he flexed his hand. His hands.
-- Take your time, she said. No session today.
She ran her hand in his short hair. Then she pulled out her phone, started some music and unpacked the second bag. She had brought groceries. Tom listened to her as she hummed the tune. It was kind of enhancing the effects if the mirror.
-- Seriously Tom, she scowled lifting up his watch from under a half empty box of thai food. This thing probably costs more than my car! Take care of it!
He shrugged and held out his right hand to grab it. He used to love this watch. His Mum and him bought it together a few years ago. What was the point now? He couldn't put it on. And even if he did, it wasn't like he had an agenda nowadays so he could live without knowing what time it was.
Lizzie sat in front of him with a tissue and took the watch to clean it. She was frowning and pursing her lips. She carefully put it on the table, between his arms. His arm and the mirror. Then she rested her hand on his and squeezed it.
Tom watched the reflection of her fingers rubbing his skin. A warm sensation started spreading on his left side. It was almost as if she was caressing his left hand. He caught her thumb with his, making her flinch but she didn't moved. Their eyes met briefly and they stayed like that for a long time, music filling the silence.
Then she sent him to get dressed. He put on a t-shirt but she glared at him.
-- You still look like you're in your pyjamas. Get dressed, Tom.
She wanted him to try put on his jeans again. He sighed. She was stubborn! But his mood was better now, so he tried. Maybe he wanted to please her? She came in his room while he was zipping his fly up and gave him an encouraging smile. But after 3 failed attempt with the button he sighed heavily and sat on his bed. This was stupid. He was worthless!
-- Come on Tom! You used to brag about how you could untie a bra with one hand, she giggled. How is that harder?
-- I guess that's another skill of mine I won't be needing anymore, he sasses. No girl's ever gonna want me to do that, he added with a sigh. No girl's ever gonna love me...
He felt Lizzie tensing and lifted his eyes up to hers. She was glaring at him.
-- You're such an idiot!
There was something else in her eyes. Something he couldn't read. She took his face in her hands and he was ready to hear another lecture about self esteem and shit like that. But she didn't spoke...Her face softened as she leaned closer. Tom's brain went blank, unable to process what was happening.
She kissed him. A gentle kiss, pressed on his lips. For a second it sent a wave of warmth through all his body, flushing away what was left of pain. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the serenity it brought to him.
Then is brain started to function again and he remembered. All the frowns, the winces, the scrunches of her nose...Pity. That was just pity.
-- What are you doing Lizzie, he asked.
She froze then quickly removed her hands from his face and stepped back. She wasn't looking at him. He saw her clenching her jaw before she stormed out of the room. It was better that way. Tom couldn't stand being pitied by her...
Lizzie didn't came back the day after. She didn't came back for 3 days. Tom didn't saw anyone. He texted his Mum, just to be sure she wouldn't popped up in his flat. He didn't answered to his friends or brothers. He didn't even read the texts. Maybe he should have, because now his twin brothers were standing in his living room, looking pissed off.
-- What did you do, asked Harry.
-- What the fuck are you talking about?
-- Lizzie, said Sam. She won't tell us what happened. She just asked us to take you to some group talk at the hospital.
-- I don't need it, grumbled Tom as he slouched back in his couch.
-- She said you'd say no, replied Sam.
-- And that we should force you. Drag you to it if needed, said Harry.
-- I'm not going to those damn sessions anymore, barked Tom. Just get out!
The twins glanced at each other and nodded. Harry pushed on the floor everything that was on the low table and Sam settle the mirror box on it. Tom had forgotten about it somehow.
-- You haven't been using it, have you, asked Harry.
Tom blinked and found himself kneeling before the table and putting his arm on it. Sam pushed the mirror so it would hide his stump and the trick was on. That feeling of fullness submerged him. He wanted to cry all of a sudden, but he held it up in front of his brothers.
They stayed silent for a moment until Tom mumbled:
-- She kissed me.
-- That's about time, said Harry.
-- Damn it Tom, tell me you didn't screw this up, added Sam.
He stared at them dazzled. What the-?
-- He screwed it, sighed Harry. Well, now we know why she doesn't want to come here anymore.
He left to the kitchen and Sam sat on the couch behind Tom.
-- What happened, bro?
-- She deserves better. And she's just pitying me anyway.
-- This is bullshit and you know it. She's in love with you since forever!
-- We're just friends.
-- Friends don't come visit you everyday before going to work. And I know you love her too. I can remember of at least three times you asked us. if you should date her or not those past 10 years.
Tom remembered that too, but he couldn't remember how it felt. Harry came back with 3 cups of tea. As he put one in front of Tom he said with a bossy tone:
-- Once you've got enough of that mirror thing, I want you to go find her and explain to her what a twat you are.
-- She's better off without me, he sulked.
-- Cut the crap, they both said in one voice.
Finding Lizzie wasn't hard. It was sunday, she was in her flat. Sam and Harry stayed in the car down the street and he knew they wouldn't leave until they were sure he had a talk with her.
She looked surprised to find him at his door but she let him in. He sat at the kitchen counter while she made some tea. It smelled nice. Or was it her? She sat next to him and they drank in silence.
-- It doesn't have to change anything, she said when her cup was half empty. I just need some time to get over it, that's all.
He glanced at her and felt the familiar sting of guilt. He also felt something else, but he wasn't sure what it was. Pain maybe? Of a different kind that the one he was used to.
-- I'm disgusting, he blurted out.
He wasn't aware he wanted to say that until he did. It made her turn to him with a frown.
-- Of course you're not!
-- I see you wincing and scrunching your nose. I'm not stupid. This is disgusting, Tom added wiggling his stump.
She shook her head and sighed heavily.
-- This is not the problem, she said. And what's disgusting is your flat, Tom. I mean, it smells like something died in it. And I'm sorry but you stink, most of the time. So yes, I twitch my nose, because it feels assaulted!
Tom winced. He wanted to call her a liar - not for saying he smelled bad, he knew this was true - and at the same time he wished he could believe her.
-- Also, I am mad at you, she added. Sometimes I went to shake the sense out of you. Because I hate seeing you walking around like a zombie. I hate that you gave up. This isn't you.
He stared at her, dazzled. But she was looking right ahead as she kept talking.
-- I wish I could help you. I wish I could be the one to bring you back to yourself. I tried to...
She sighed and wiped a tear off her eye. Then she turned to him and met his eyes.
-- You need to forgive yourself Tom. I don't know what you feel guilty about, but you need to get over it. Then maybe you'll be able to move on.
He looked away. All of them, they didn't understand. The accident, the amputation, he could only blame it on himself. He fucked up his own life for a stupid thrill. They told him not to do that stunt, but he insisted. Because it looked dope. Because he wanted to tell the world that he did it, even if it was dangerous. Because he thought he was dog's bollocks.
But everyone was acting like it wasn't his fault. Like it was a very unfortunate accident that could not have been prevented. Well, it could have. If only he had listened to his stunt coordinator.
And now he was dragging down with him the people he loved the most. They worried about him, they cared for him, the spent time on him. But he kept disappointing them. He was fucking up their life too. This guilt was even more painful.
Lizzie sat up and squeezed his left shoulder as she walked past him.
-- There's one more thing I'd like you to try, she trailed.