by L. B. Dunbar
33
All jokes aside
[Brut]
Seeing Lily sick restores my faith. Not in a negative way, but in a determined manner. I’m a putz, and I chickened out when she rejected me after the night of her sister’s funeral. Instead of accepting she was hurting and might need my support, I gave her space. The longer the time spanned, the greater the distance, and I didn’t know how to retrace my steps. Instead of sticking to my original plan—win Lily back—I lost focus. After finding my son in her arms, learning of his mother’s death, and then struggling to help him through a situation I could hardly wrap my head around, I could no longer see straight. My end goal was Lily, but the finish line blurred.
When Midge told me she saw Lily at the doctor’s office and hinted I might want to check in on her, I wanted to chastise my sister-in-law for meddling again. Then I thought twice. This was the push I needed and the excuse I had to visit her. She really is sick. I didn’t think someone could turn that shade of green, and I’m a dad. I’ve had my share of sleepless nights with a vomiting child. Still, Lily looked different. Maybe it was just that I missed her—and her body—because her boobs definitely looked bigger. Her curves perfectly fill my hand, but somehow, she looked a little fuller up top. I dismissed it as the way she lay on her bed, her brow pinched after the retching, and her face clammy. I watched her rest.
I didn’t want to project what was going on in her pretty head, but her sister’s death threw Lily for a loop as well. After our night together, I didn’t want to say goodbye, but I could see old fears written in Lily’s face. In fact, her expression looked very similar to the night she told me to leave her way back when.
Everything in me wanted to pull her tight and refuse to walk away when she was nineteen. The same feelings occurred a month ago when she told me goodbye in her apartment. I would leave her alone if that’s what she wished, but I didn’t wish it, and I didn’t really believe Lily did either. She wouldn’t let me touch her, kiss her, or slip inside her if she could so easily dismiss me. We might have needed some space after Lauren’s second intrusion into our lives, but this time, Lauren would not win.
It’s the afternoon of my sick-call visit, and I’m putting into place what I said—if she wouldn’t call me to check in, then I’m checking in with her instead. It’s only been an hour, and I need contact.
What did the cupcake say to the muffin? I text.
Three dots appear and disappear. When they pop up again, I hold my breath waiting.
I don’t know, what?
I’m just a cupcake looking for a stud muffin. It’s cheesy, no further food puns intended, but I need to reach Lily on some level.
That was really bad.