Being Okay and Making Mistakes

EMERALD

I sat in the chair in Lance’s hospital room, feeling nearly sick to my stomach at the sight of my brother.

He looked like he’d been broken and pieced back together with tape, glue, and a prayer. He was also glaring at me as best as he could through the drugs as Mom sniffed beside him.

I decided Mom needed to know sooner than later to save at least my own hide when she found out.

She was having a bad day, but it came in bursts, like squeezing the trigger on a water bottle. She’d be confused and lost, then snap into reality, then back into confusion.

I introduced her to Tate, and I like to think she liked him, but it was hard to tell. Now, Mom was in tears, though she had managed to regain herself a lot faster than I had.

Tate sat next to me, as close as the chairs would let him, and Barb was in the hallway reading a magazine.

“Where are you going to stay?” she asked him.

“Carter is fine with me staying there until the Navy can process housing for me,” he answered.

“Will they be covering your medical expenses, too?” she asked. “What about physical therapy?”

“It’s all covered, Mom. And really, it looks worse than it is,” he said as she held his least battered hand gently.

Neither of us had the heart to tell her that he was, in fact, paralyzed, mostly because there was still no word on if it was permanent or not.

I hated not telling her something important like that, but it was probably better that she didn’t know right now. Not when she was having a hard time staying in the present.

“That doesn’t help much, son.” She pursed her lips. “You look awful.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back to my overly attractive good looks in no time.” He smiled as best as he could with a busted lip.

“If you’re so attractive, how come I don’t have nieces and nephews yet?” I asked, which earned me a horrible glare.

“How come I don’t?” he countered.

“I have a jarhead for an older brother,” I replied. “Now, he looks like Quasimodo, so… Thank god Tate’s already committed, right?”

“It will take a lot more than this to run me off, and I’d never go willingly, Emerald.” He gave my hand a squeeze.

“Excuse me while I vomit,” Lance muttered.

“Hush,” Mom scolded him, then turned to look at me. “I’m sorry about your car, sweetie.”

“I don’t give a shit about the car. It’s my brother I’m more concerned about.” I shook my head.

“And there’s nothing to be concerned about with me,” Lance said with a pointed look.

Tate’s phone rang, and he looked at it before he scowled.

“It’s Devon,” he told me, then showed me the screen. “He thinks he’s funny.”

Wang Han Joobie.

“I’ll be right back.” He kissed my cheek and got up to talk to his brother.

“We should go soon. There are a few more things we need to do today before I go home,” Barbara said, and Mom nodded.

We said our goodbyes, and Mom left, leaving me with Lance, who was ~still~ glaring.

“I said ~after~ lunch, Em,” he said.

“I ate early.” I shrugged.

“Well, I have to give him credit. Tate is taking care of you.” He sighed, looking at the bottle of water and empty chip bag that Tate insisted I eat when we first got here.

“And don’t think I haven’t noticed the news. What is going on, Em?”

“Someone slinging lies and hoping one sticks,” I replied.

“And you’re sure it’s lies?” he asked.

“Of course, I’m sure,” I answered. “Whatever that woman says, Tate isn’t some kind of monster. He’s a good man, Lance. I wouldn’t be with him if I thought he wasn’t.”

“I don’t know what to do here, Em.” He sighed and lay on his pillows. “I feel even more useless now than ever. And now, you’re moving Mom by yourself.”

“You aren’t useless, and I’m not alone,” I replied.

“The odds of returning to service are very low, Em.” He looked at me. “Spinal injuries are difficult to recover from, and most of the time, you never truly recover. I’m done.”

“There are other things you can do that don’t require a flawless physical exam,” I said.

“Desk job. Did you forget who you’re talking to? Lance Wells, king of restless ticks. Nice to meet you.”

“You can go into private sector security. There were a lot of firms interested before, and some of them were the same ones looking at me, so they have low standards,” I offered, and he gave me a flat look.

“I’m crippled, Emerald. I don’t exactly exude ‘bodyguard’ now, do I?” He gestured to his legs.

“For now,” I corrected. “You are crippled for now.”

“Oh, come on. You don’t honestly think I’ll wake up tomorrow and start doing the Jitterbug, do you?” he snapped.

“Of course I don’t. Healing takes time, Lance. I’m not an idiot, and I’d appreciate it if you dropped the tone before I tell them to stop your meds.”

“I didn’t say you were an idiot,” he snapped, then sighed as he relaxed the anger from his body. You’re always so optimistic; it’s annoying. Realistically optimistic, though.

“You believe that all the bad will eventually work out, but in the meantime, you’re right there, prepared for damn near anything while hammering the rough bits into shape again.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m having a hard time seeing the good lately,” I admitted and rubbed the back of my sore neck. I needed to schedule a massage with Macy. Screw clubs. We were both pretty wound up.

“Mom’s taken care of. I didn’t die. And as much as this is going to hurt to say, you have Tate,” Lance said, then twisted his face up. “God, that was brutal and tasted like vinegar.”

“I bet it did.” I giggled, and he smiled at me softly.

“He’s good for you, Em. I see that. I just… I promised Dad I’d look out for you, and I haven’t been doing a good job of that,” he admitted. “While I’ve been doing what I wanted, you gave up everything.”

“You’re being unfair to yourself.” I shook my head.

“By the time he died, Dad wasn’t Dad anymore. His sickness had spread so much, he was more cancer than not. He was in pain and on so many drugs, his mind was like Swiss cheese.”

“I still should have been here for you and Mom, not thousands of miles away,” he said.

“I told you to go, remember? I packed your bag and threw it out the window.” I laughed.

“You were right where you needed to be, Lance. I grew up while you were gone and figured out what I’m capable of without my big brother coming to my rescue every time I make a move.”

“I’m not okay. Am I?” he asked, staring at his unmoving legs.

“No. No, you’re not okay. But you will be,” I answered. “Wheelchair or not, you’ll get back to okay. The Wellses always do.”

“Emerald?” Tate knocked on the door that Mom had closed behind her. “Devon has something for us. We need to go home soon.”

“Okay. I’ll be right there.” I nodded, and he left.

“Does he always use your whole name?” Lance asked me.

“You know, I think he does.” I laughed. “He hasn’t called me Emma or Em once since I met him.”

“That’s kind of weird, right? Everyone has a nickname,” he said.

“He calls me Shrimp.” I shrugged.

“That’s not a nickname, Em. That’s a pet name, and I don’t even want to know how that came to be a thing.

“I might not be completely against this anymore, but you’re still my sister and there are things I don’t want to know.” He shuddered and groaned when it hurt him.

“Apparently, I’m short.” I laughed and kissed his cheek. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“Morbid,” he muttered.

I left the room, and Tate put his arms around me, kissing the top of my head before taking my hand on the way to the elevators.

“Better?” he asked.

“Better.” I sighed and leaned into him. “Thanks.”

“I don’t need thanks, Emerald. Not from you. Never from you.” He gave my hand a small squeeze.

“So, what did Devon find?” I asked.

“He wouldn’t tell me, but he sounded pretty worked up about it.” He shrugged. “He’s been trying to find the person that forged the medical records for Nicole, so I’d guess it has something to do with that.”

“Speaking of, have you thought about which volunteer program you want to be a part of?” I asked him.

“Aside from the crazy left-side ideas that aren’t even close to the realm of possibility? No,” he answered.

“Had a few of those crazy ideas, have you?” I giggled.

“A few,” he said in a tone that said he’d actually seriously considered some of them. “I’m actually a little worried about Devon.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“He sounded…like we were kids. He was scared, I think,” he said, frowning.

“You think he’s in trouble?” I asked.

“Maybe?” he said as we walked across the lobby toward the parking lot.

“The kinds of people that forge things can be dangerous. Worse, they could work for dangerous people. Devon isn’t stupid, but he can forget that occasionally.”

“I’m sorry, Tate. I should have thought about that before asking him to help.” I bit my lip.

“No, you were right.” He shook his head and put his arm over my shoulders, pulling me into his side.

“He just wants his older brother to like him. I think he would have tried to do what he thought would be helpful regardless, but his brand of help usually ends up making a fucking mess to be cleaned up.

“It’s good that you pointed him in a direction so he doesn’t go off on a half-cooked idea.”

“I forget that he’s not that much younger than I am.” I shake my head. “I just turned twenty-five. Four years doesn’t seem like it makes that much of a difference.”

“You also had a very different life to make you grow up, not allow you to hold on to being a child.”

“He loves you, Tate.” I turned to face him when we reached the car, and he opened the door for me.

“Growing up without it means he doesn’t know how to say it, and you don’t know how to hear it. I’m glad you’re trying, though.”

“You make me want to try, Emerald. You make me think that it’s time for a new normal in my life,” he said, kissing my hand as he helped me into the car.

“Keep it up and I’ll be baking brownies when we get home.” I laughed, and his face lit up.

“We’ll stop at the store on the way and grab a box of mix.” He grinned.

“Ha! I make mine from scratch, Treeman. Let’s go home.” I laughed.

***

“Emerald! You made me brownies?” Devon said as he walked into the kitchen where Tate had been hovering for the past ten minutes, waiting for the brownies to cool.

“Fuck off. She made these for me, asshole.” Tate glared.

“I might let you have some if you tell us what you found out,” I said as I pulled out plates and handed Tate some glasses and pointed at the fridge.

“I’ll do you one better.” He grinned. “Meet Ginger.”

He stepped sideways, and I saw this tiny woman looking like she was a lamb in a lion’s den.

She was maybe five foot four and had a very petite frame. Shocking red curls made me automatically think of ~Brave~ from Disney, and she had healing bruises on her arms and a scabbed-over cut on her lip.

“Siobhan James,” she whispered, looking between me and Tate. “Everyone calls me Ginger.”

“Hey, do you have any dinner left? We’re kind of starving,” Devon asked, and I saw Ginger’s cheeks flush.

“We haven’t eaten yet either,” I said. “We were going to order pizza since your brother was being demanding about brownies.”

“Sweet. I’ll call Mario’s,” he said, dialing his phone.

“Okay. Just throw her at us and walk away, jackass.” I rolled my eyes as he walked to the living room. “No lead-up or introduction, just… Here you go.”

“He’s got about as much tact as a rock to the face.” Tate snorted and sat at the island so he could watch me cut the brownies.

“Anyhow, Ginger, I’m Emerald, and this is Tate. Since Devon is being a fuckwit, why don’t you tell us how you ended up here?” I asked.

She started talking, telling us how her father had been one of the best forgers in the city and taught her everything he knew. When he died last year, she took over so she could support her family.

“About a week ago, a man came in and asked for some medical records to be tampered with,” she said, sipping on a glass of water and staring at the counter in front of her.

“He looked like one of those models you see pasted on the walls of the mall. But he reminded me of something vile.”

“I showed her a picture of Leo. It was him,” Devon confirmed from the back of the couch where he had perched.

“I don’t like to do medical records, but they keep the lights on. Most of the time, it’s for insurance fraud or fudging about drug use,” she said and shook herself.

“He offered a lot of money, and I couldn’t just say no, you know?”

“How did he get Nicole’s records?” I asked Tate.

“He didn’t bring them. The next day, a courier delivered the file and a phone number for when I was done,” she said.

“The name on the originals was Nicole Everett. When I was finished, a woman came to pick them up and she read them like she knew them before leaving.”

“So, what happened?” I pointed to her lip.

“That might have been my fault.” Devon winced. “I figured I’d start at the top of the list and go down.

“After I talked to Ginger, someone broke into her house and attacked her. Thankfully, she has a large family and one of her siblings interrupted before things got bad.”

“The fuck?” Tate growled. “Don’t tell me you think Leo sent them.”

“I know Leo isn’t that evil,” Devon deadpanned. “But…”

“We were chased,” Ginger whispered. “Devon followed me to the grocery store, and some people started following us. They chased us all over the neighborhood before we lost them.”

“They kept saying things that made me think that whoever it was that sent them was female,” Devon added.

“I’ve done a lot of work for women, so it might not even be related,” Ginger said quickly.

“We’ll deal with that later. What about the file?” Tate asked.

“Well, I have to make scans of the original document in order to doctor them properly.

“Normally, I work away from home, so there are no greasy kid prints and peanut butter smears on the work, but there was a power outage where I normally go, so I worked at home,” Ginger said.

She pulled the bag that had been around her body to the front. “My little sister, Prudence, hit Copy so she could watch the paper come out while I was busy with my little brother, Ben.”

She pulled out a few papers and handed them over to Tate.

“She had a lot of checkups with a gynecologist from ages fourteen to twenty-two. I mean, a ~lot~.” Ginger looked at me. “Turns out they were to check her hymen.”

“What?” Tate and I said at the same time, and Devon made a bad face as he went to get the pizza from downstairs.

“Every two months, she’d get a pregnancy test and an exam to confirm her hymen was intact.” She nodded.

“Apparently, it’s one of those old-time things that was pretty common in high society before women started putting their foot down.”

“So, how did you change it?” he asked. “Surely her doctor could just pull up the file and be done, right?”

“No. Part of what I do is ensure that the real documents are buried very, very, ~very~, deeply, so that if anyone goes looking about, they see mine, not the original,” Ginger said.

“It’s why Pops struggled so much at the end. He couldn’t keep up with the digital era.”

“Do you have a copy of those, too?” I asked her, and she nodded and pulled out a few more pages.

I glanced at them and frowned.

“When did you say you stopped seeing her?” I asked him.

“Back in high school,” he answered. “I was seventeen, maybe eighteen. Why?”

“She has this for the year after.” I showed him the papers.

“That’s what I was told to do,” Ginger shrugged. “And she confirmed it was what she wanted before she left.”

“I was in college on the other side of the country,” Tate looked at the dates. “She made a mistake.”