One minute, Liza was fine, blissfully driving down the interstate with her best friend, Jason, shooting the shit, heading south to take in a rock concert. The next, her world exploded into horns, and flashing lights, pain in her side, and a scream. And then it was dark. The next thing she remembered thinking about was whether Jason was all right. Then the pain slammed back into her, and she realized she was swathed in bandages, in a hospital room. Her vision was a little blurry, but she saw familiar faces. Her mother, her father, her husband Jim. They looked worried. Things went black again.
-----
The accident was a year ago, but Liza still felt nervous getting into the car. Jason had pulled through without any major injuries, but he had chronic neck and back pain that sometimes laid him up for weeks at a time. He couldn't keep a job, but the lawsuit they had filed with the drunk driver that caused the accident paid his bills. Luckily, the physical therapy had him up for longer and longer periods of time.
Almost as bad as the guilt she felt over Jason's injuries was the explosive realization she'd had as she recovered. She loved him. Even worse, she'd told him she loved him, and the surprised look on his face wasn't the one she'd hoped to see. He loved her, too, he said, as a friend. Maybe once upon a time...
She'd been so embarrassed, she hadn't spoken to him in a month. He finally got her on the phone, and they had awkwardly talked around her confession for weeks before things got back to normal, more or less. She and her husband would invite Jason and his wife over for dinner Sundays, and things didn't feel strained anymore.
But a year later, the feelings were still inside. She and Jim hardly ever made love, and when they did, she was picturing Jason instead, filling her, caressing her, loving her. She kept burying those feelings, willing them to go away.
-----
Liza knocked on the door, fussed with her pink sundress. She admitted, at least to herself, she was a little nervous. She and Jason hadn't been alone in a long time. Actually, she hadn't even been to his house in weeks.
"Come in," a voice called from inside. She went in, and followed the voice down the hall and into the spare bedroom, where Jason was laying on the bed, watching a television that had been mounted onto the ceiling.
"Jase, what are you doing in here?" she asked.
"Oh, Ronnie thought I should put a TV in here so I can come in and watch when I can't fall asleep. These days it hurts more often than not, so, actually I don't really even sleep in our bedroom anymore."
"You guys doing okay?"
Jason was silent a long time before answering. "Not really," he said carefully. "I think she might be seeing someone else."
"No, not Ronnie! What makes you think that?"
"Little things. Sometimes I can hear her on the phone in the next room, giggling like a schoolgirl. She gets home late. She leaves early. I don't know."
Liza could see he was uncomfortable. She changed the subject. "So, what are you doing flat on your back? Didn't you have a physical therapy appointment today?"
"Nah, cancelled it. Doesn't seem to be helping much."
"Are you going regularly?"
"I was, but... Ronnie's had a hard time getting off work to take me," he said bitterly.
"I'm really sorry," she said quietly.
"Hey, how many times do I have to tell you? It's not your fault." Liza knelt on the side of the bed, and he gripped her hand.
"I just feel responsible because I was driving."
"I know you do."
"Look, what if I gave you a massage? I don't get enough chances to put those classes I took to good use. If you can't go to physical therapy, at least let me do that much."
"I don't think that would be a good idea," he said, after a minute.
"If it's about what I told you last year, I already told you, I didn't mean it. Must have been... delirious... after the surgery," she finished lamely.
"It's not that."
"If not that, then why not?"
Jason was quiet for an even longer time. Liza lay on her back beside him, nestling her head in the crook of his armpit.
"Come oooooon," she wheedled. "Let me help you."
He turned to face her, smiled at her batting eyelashes. "Okay."
She smiled brightly. "Let's get your clothes off then."
"I'm not getting naked for you, ya perv," he teased.
"Just to get you more comfortable." She helped him out of his shirt and then his jeans, trying not to look at the place where his dick lay, curled up comfortably inside his underwear. She helped him turn over, and then said, "I should probably get some lotion."
"On the dresser," he said. She grabbed it, noticing it was almost empty.
"Not much in here," she complained.
"Yeah, well, I've been using it a lot lately," he said into the pillow. She blushed at his admission, glad his head was turned the other way. She didn't answer, but got back up onto the bed and squeezed some lotion into her hands, warming it between her palms.
She slid her hands over his back, coating it slickly with the lotion.
"Mmmm," she said, "smells nice." Actually, it smelled, well, kind of familiar. She glanced at the bottle again, saw it was the same scent she always wore.
