Boot(s)

26- Boot

Sergeant Jackson

"Alright, alright. Fine. Fine. You can choose the next song," Bella was in the backseat of the Land Rover, passing me her phone between the gap in the two front seats. We were driving her to a birthday party a ways down the parkway, and she had been playing Greatest Showman on repeat after last night.

Last night, when Jessie was at her mom's book club/wine night until midnight and Bo and I were babysitting. Babysitting is too strong of a word. The complete wrong word, actually. We were more like puppets and Bella was the puppet master. 

Since I had never seen The Greatest Showman, she insisted we watch it, which of course I was fine with, no problem. But things took a bit of a turn. She made Bo and I stand in front of the TV and assume the roles on the screen (Bo was Hugh Jackman, naturally. I was his handsome sidekick, Zac Efron.) and perform her favorite numbers real-time. She even printed out lyrics for the two of us. She gave us appropriate practice time, thank god, but when The Other Side started blaring from the television screen, we were called up to serve her.

Now, in the car, Bo was belting out the lyrics from the night before, encouraging me from the driver's side to trade the typical for something colorful. To join him on the other side.

"Sorry, Hugh," I told him, grabbing Bella's cell phone. "I'm calling in reinforcements."

Reinforcements were, in fact, Taylor Swift.

Bella's hands were on the sides of my chair in seconds, shaking my entire body, rattling my crutches against the car window. "Ooo Petey I love this one!"

"Me too." I glanced over at Bo. He was smiling, softly, his eyes on the road, one arm around the back of my seat, the other hand draped over the top of the steering wheel.

He was bopping his head. "Don't know if I know this one yet," his tooth sunk into his bottom lip. His eyes found mine just as the lyrics started. "Ohhhh, okay. This is good."

And when the chorus hit, I looked at him; singing every last word.

He got that boyish look that I like in a man
I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans
It's like I'm seventeen, nobody understands
No one understands

He got my heartbeat
Skipping down 16th Avenue
Got that, oh! I mean
Wanna see what's under that attitude
Like, I want you, bless my soul
And I ain't gotta tell him
I think he knows
I think he knows.

At some point, I think he realized what was going on. What this was, what this meant, me serenading him. His smile faded a bit, but Bella and I just sang louder. When he dropped his arm from the back of my seat to put two hands on the wheel, I turned up the volume. I let my arm drape over the armrest, right within reach of the denim on his legs.

When the song ended, Bella asked me to play it again. "I love it," she said.

"Yeah," I glanced at Bo: two hands gripped the steering wheel like he was going to lose it. "I think he knows, Bel."

"Yeah," she repeated me like she knew exactly what I meant. "I think he knows, Pete."

And hey, maybe she did.

Maybe he did, too.

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I wanted to surprise him, so I didn't tell him anything about what I was doing that day. "Oh yeah, physical therapy," I told him when he asked what I was up to as we sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper and drinking sweetened coffee. "Lunch with Nance. May take Millie for a swim."

He got up to put his glass in the sink, but he made sure to smile at me as he got up. Not his perfect Bobby O'Callahan smile—the political smile. The celebrity smile. This one, the one he reserved for me, was real. You could see it start in his eyes, then you could see it slowly reach his mouth, and then it ended with his dimples. You could practically see him glow. "Love it." He squeezed my shoulder as he passed me on his way to the door. "Have a good day, bud. Take the Rover, Jeep needs gas. I'll be home at 7."

I gave him a two-fingered salute. "Sir yes, sir."

Later, a few minutes before 7, I sat anxiously on the living room couch. I had been standing by the door, for greater effect, but my body grew weak and I couldn't take all the pressure on my limbs. I sat down on the couch, my crutches flanking my sides like bodyguards. That's what the doctor said they should be like now, anyway. Support.

The door flew open like he was about to tell me the whole place was on fire. "Pete! I got stuff for margaritas! Where are you?"

Whole place on fire... margaritas. Same thing.

I got up, grabbing the bodyguards. Except now, I could take steps. And I took the steps around the couch and made my way for the kitchen where I could hear Bo already unloading groceries. He hadn't heard me coming. "Peter?" His back was to me. He was pulling a handle of tequila out of a brown paper bag. His old gray t-shirt was covered in a pool of sweat; it had been hot today, for Fall. I felt my lips curl into a smile.

"Yeah, Bo, I'm here."

He turned his head over one shoulder just enough to get a quick look at me. He flashed a quick smile and returned to unloading his bags. "Amazing. Can I make you a drink? I've had a shit day. Been craving these and tacos since 11. Want to start cooking? I got some taco meat here..."

My mouth was dry. I wanted to say, turn around, Bobby, and look at me, damnit, but my body wouldn't move and neither would my mouth, and both of those things were very unusual for me, so ultimately, Bobby did, in fact, turn around damnit. "You okay?" He asked me, taco meat in hand. And then he saw me. Like really saw me. And his jaw dropped open. And then the taco meat hit the floor with a very horrible sounding squish.

"Oh my god ,you—your leg!"

All I could do was nod. Up and down. Yes. Yes. Yes. This happened. Finally, this happened.

I couldn't see Bo for a second, because suddenly he was gone and then he was picking me up—new prosthetic and all—and knocking my crutches to the floor and spinning me around like some stupid Raggedy Anne doll.

But at that moment, I didn't care that I felt like Raggedy Anne. Or a doll. 

I wouldn't have wanted to be anything, to be anywhere else in the world. Not then. Not ever.  

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Author's Note: I just want to give a quick (but huge) thank you to everyone reading this right now. Your comments and votes have kept me going through this. I love hearing from you guys and I am so grateful you like this story as much as I enjoy writing it. I don't have as much time to write now as I did in the summer, so I will be updating sporadically, but as often as physically possible. In the meantime, please binge read some of my personal favorite stories: Lasagna, As Told By Tuck & Axel, Something About Sam, Anything But Normal... As always, love you all. Keep on reading, writing, and inspiring. And remember. GOOD THINGS TAKE TIME.  Insert evil laugh here :)