Spinning Out

Chapter 11

JAINA

My eyes open after what feels like three seconds of sleep. It's been two hours. That will have to do. I have a lot of research that needs to happen. I realized yesterday that I know nothing. The sun is barely coming up outside and peeking through the cracks in my blinds. It's warm under my covers, and if this were a normal day a few months ago, I'd be grateful to have woken up too early and have the opportunity to roll over and go back to sleep before starting my day. But it isn't a few months ago. It's a few days after.

My phone pings. My heart drops. It's a sinking feeling like it actually plummeted to the bottom of my stomach where they had a quick chat and decided to rally against me. Now I'm nervous, nauseas, and anxious. I take a deep, calming breath. Four steady seconds in, then out for four. My palm presses against my abdomen as I try to focus my attention.

One, two, three, four. My hand lifts as my stomach rises.

One, two, three, four. It falls as the air is released.

He's ok. The hospital would have called if he wasn't. Self-talk--a skill I learned in therapy as a child. I thought it was useless then, but it turns out my therapist had known what she was talking about. The deep breathing and self-talk does seem to take the anxiety down a notch. It's not perfect of course, but under the circumstances, I don't think much has a chance of helping.

When my heart feels like it's made its way back up to its place in my chest, I retrieve my phone and hope for the best as I check the alert. I completely forgot I requested to follow Elijah. His request to follow me back has me sitting straight up in bed. No rejection. He has let me into this window to his world. I finally feel like my investigation might be moving forward—ok and I can check out pictures of him.

There isn't much posted. I'm disappointed. It's mostly care stuff. There are a few posts about engines with picture of projects he must be working on. There are also some pictures of cars racing, but not the kind of cars I'm interested in. Some of these cars look super expensive and even sponsored by companies I have heard of before. There are only a few pictures with hm in them. Some with what appears to be celebrities of sorts. He's standing beside each of them with a thumbs up or their arms around hm as if they have a more familiar relationship than just the photo op.

Elijah looks different in the pictures than he does in person. First of all, he isn't bruised or injured in any obvious way. Secondly, he seems more relaxed months ago. He smiles bright into the camera and you can almost feel the joy he has in each picture. They have all caught him mid laugh, his eyes wrinkled at the edges and his bright smile stretched across his strong face. The boy has a jaw line the Greek gods would be envious of.

I scroll all the way to the bottom and find a few more pictures of him with friends. Mostly one guy in particular. Leave it to boys to not have tagged their friend. Instead, it's simple one word photo captions like "Hollywood," or "Beach." He is not a man of many words and judging from these posts, he wasn't a child of many words either. The photos date back about four years, but there aren't many. I wonder if he is the kind of guy that posts and then takes them down months later. Nathan is like that. When the season of that even passes, he takes the picture down and moves on. I like to keep an archive of my life. My account is private, so what does it hurt? My feed is years of friendship and fun. A running stream of quotes I love or pictures of my favorite food items. It's so different now. I don't have the time to luxuriate in what fun food item we can go get. My day is full of hospital smells and vending machine snacks.

The magic is when I click on who has tagged him. It seems like miles of scrolling potential opens up. Tiny pictures fill my feed.

Who is this guy?

He's tagged on some verified pages. His large frame leaning over the engine of some really fancy cars. There's an older man with him in a lot of the pictures. It's the two of them working on a car together. I assume it's his dad since a few of the captions mention the "Meyer Team." I knew Elijah was good looking, but seeming him working is a whole other level. In one picture, his face is determined and I can't stop looking at the way his bicep flexes over the engine as he studies something the camera can't see.

There are also some pictures from his high school a few years ago where he's tagged. He stands proud, but not smiling. His face is stoic as he and some football team mates stare ahead at the camera. Grass stains soil their white pants as the light glistens off their helmets in the packed stadium. I bet all the girls loved him. There's something about a boy in tight football pants that tends to drive girls wild. I know—because I am one of those girls.

I could spend all day going to the rabbit hole of who Elijah Meyer's is, but I need to get to the hospital. This deep dive will have to wait for when I'm with Nathan—he might not be able to see the pictures, but I'm going to have some fun describing them. I chuckle at the thought of how quickly Nathan would tell me to "Please stop," if he could.

I move the charger to Nathan's phone and then grab my clothes so I can jump into the shower.

"Are you headed to school?" my mom asks from the kitchen table.

"Not until Nathan can come with me," I tell her. She doesn't push or ask again. When we were little, Nathan and I would tell each other if we were sick and not going to class. That was our cue to fake sick so we wouldn't be alone. My therapist had tried to convince me that our relationship was co-dependent, but I just felt bad for her that she ever had a friendship like ours. 

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