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“Jennifer! How lovely to see you.”
Despite the warmth in Lorraine’s greeting, there was something tight to her voice as she opened the door to usher Jennifer inside. It was easy enough to guess why. Ever since the accident, Marty’s parents had been fretting over her almost as much as their own son. It was… kind of sweet, but Jennifer was getting a little tired of everyone treating her like she was made of glass.
“Marty’s in his room,” Lorraine continued, a little too brightly. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”
“How is he doing?” Jennifer asked, afraid she already knew the answer.
Lorraine’s smile faltered slightly, and Jennifer found her heart sinking.
“Oh, you know,” said Lorraine. “You both went through something very scary. He’s a tough boy though, he’ll pull through this.”
“Yeah,” said Jennifer. She wished she felt as sure of that herself.
“But how are you doing, Jennifer?” asked Lorraine. “No more sling, I see. That’s good!”
Jennifer put a hand to her shoulder, rolling the joint a little awkwardly. She still had a cast on, but it was good to be out of the sling her surgeon had been making her wear the last couple of weeks. Other than that, she was still pretty sore, but a lot of the cuts and scrapes she’d endured as a result of the accident were fading, leaving behind nothing but frightening memories.
“I’m doing alright,” she said. “Still a little shaken up, but I’m just glad things weren’t worse.”
Shuddering, she closed her eyes for a moment, attempting to banish the horrible images that had been haunting her ever since the car accident. The shattered windshield that had sent shards of glass into both of them. Marty unconscious in the seat next to her, his face covered in blood from a gash above his eye. How small he’d looked in his hospital bed, hooked up to all sorts of beeping monitors and things when she’d finally been cleared to visit him herself.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Lorraine said, putting a comforting hand on Jennifer’s shoulder. “It’s just awful this happened to you kids.”
“Yeah,” said Jennifer, wondering for the millionth time since the accident if she could have stopped Marty if she’d protested just a little bit more. “It’s pretty awful.”
“Well, don’t let me keep you,” said Lorraine. “I’m sure it will brighten Marty’s day to see you. You’ve been such a dear to him since the accident.”
“I’m worried about him,” Jennifer admitted. “But thanks, Mrs. McFly.”
With that, Jennifer made her way down the hallway to Marty’s room, though she found herself hesitating a little when she reached the door. It was… harder, seeing Marty since the accident, thinking about how close she’d come to losing him. Blaming him for it a little bit too, because he’d been stupid and look where it had gotten them both. But she couldn’t hold it against him for long. Not when he’d been hurt so much worse than her. Not when he’d scared her so bad.
“Marty?” she called. “It’s Jen. Can I come in?”
“Yeah, sure,” came the distracted reply.
The first thing Jennifer noticed was that Marty’s room was a mess. It was always a mess, but the chaos was a lot less controlled, as if he’d simply given up on it. She hadn’t been in his room for a while, but she suspected the change was recent. Clothes were strewn everywhere,
Marty was sitting on the bed, attempting to pluck the strings on his little yellow Erlewine. It didn’t seem like it was going very well.
“Are you sure it’s okay to be playing that?” Jen asked, shoving aside an abandoned jacket in order to sit down next to Marty.
“You sound like my mother,” he said.
“Well, maybe she’s right this time. I thought your surgeon told you to take it easy outside of physical therapy.”
“I’m just noodling,” he said.
“Noodling?”
“You know. Noodling.”
“Okay, well what did your doctors say about noodling?”
“Nothing Jen, honest.”
Jennifer wasn’t sure she liked that answer. “That looks like it hurts.”
“Yeah, well, everything hurts,” Marty said, frustration in his voice. “Get off my back, okay?”
“Marty, that's not—”
“—I don't want to hear it, Jen!”
There was a particularly dissonant twang from Marty’s guitar. His face crumpled in pain, and Jennifer had to resist the urge to swat his hand away from the instrument.
“What’s this really about, Marty?” she asked, when he finally looked like his hand didn’t hurt so badly.
Marty could be stubborn—that was part of how all this had happened in the first place—but he wasn’t stupid. Or at least, he wasn’t as stupid as a lot of guys his age. Sure, sometimes he let his insecurities get the best of him, but she could usually talk him down from doing anything too dumb. That was why she was still kicking herself over the accident. She probably could have stopped him from racing Needles if she’d tried harder.
Which was why Jennifer was pretty sure there was something else bothering him.
Marty was quiet for a while, the only sound in the room his mournfully plucking one of the open strings on his guitar.
“My physical therapist thinks I’m not going to get full range of motion back in my hand,” he said eventually, switching to a different string. “Which means no more guitar for me.”
A pit opened up in Jennifer’s stomach. “Marty, that’s… does he know for sure?”
Marty shrugged. “He says it’s too early to call it, but it doesn’t look good. I guess the nerves were pretty damaged.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Sighing, Marty flopped backwards on the bed, staring up at nothing in particular. She didn’t like the defeated look in his eyes, like he was trying not to cry.
“I really screwed things up, huh, Jennifer? I shouldn’t have let Needles get to me.”
Jennifer didn’t really know what to say to that. He wasn’t wrong. The accident had been his fault, even if he’d been egged on. But it didn’t seem like saying so was going to make things any better, and she hated seeing him looking so miserable.
“Well,” she said instead. “If you think I’m the kind of girl who only liked you because you could play the guitar, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“Aw, come on, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know. I’m just saying.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“Wow, thank you, Mr. McFly,” Jennifer teased him. “Your appreciation is noted.”
The joke didn’t seem to land. Marty was still staring up at the ceiling, fingers clumsily plucking the strings of his guitar, his eyebrows furrowed in thought.
“Something else on your mind?” she asked.
“How come you’re still being so nice to me?” he said. “I put you in the hospital, Jen. You broke your arm!You must think I’m the shittiest boyfriend in the world.”
“Well, I don’t,” she said, finally reaching a hand out to clasp his. “A little reckless, maybe, but I know it was an accident. And I still love you.”
“I love you too.”
He still looked pretty despondent, lying there on his back with unshed tears in his eyes, but Jennifer was pleased to note the faintest smile on Marty’s lips. Maybe she’d be able to get through to him eventually, when all this was a little less raw and frightening. When they’d both healed up.
“Marty McFly!” she exclaimed, remembering something. “You haven’t even signed my cast yet,”
He gave her a sheepish look. “I can’t even hold a pen right, Jen.”
“Well, then you haven’t scribbled on it. Come on, let’s find a marker.”