by Garcia, Amy
“Ahh, I’m sorry.” I swallow a few times and conclude that it’s over, for now.
“What are you apologizing for?” Isaac asks rubbing small circles on my back; the sensation intensifies the nausea.
“I didn’t know you were sick, Mia; I’m so sorry.”
“I didn’t know either, Cecelia, it’s fine, just a bug I’m sure.” I turn and prop my backside against the counter scrubbing my face with my hands. Isaac reaches around me and turns on the faucet to wash my puke down the drain.
“Do you feel better now?” Isaac asks while Cecelia covers the food on the tray with a towel.
“No, not really. Maybe Evan isn’t septic; maybe we have the same thing?” Isaac presses the back of his hand against my forehead.
“No, you’re not hot, and his lab work confirms sepsis. We need to get you into bed.” Cecelia nods in agreement.
“I can’t leave him, he’s gonna freak out if he wakes up without me, again… I have to stay with him,” I argue
“Mia, listen to me.” He holds me by the shoulders, bending to look me directly in the eyes. I cover my mouth to protect him from my puke breath.
“I can give him his meds, and you can’t be here putting him at risk of catching whatever you have,” I growl in frustration, he’s right, I have to go.
“Can you turn on the security cameras in our room so I can see him?” I ask softly behind my hand. Isaac smiles.
“Of course, come on, I’ll put you to bed.”
“I will get rid of this. Is there something else I can get for you, Mia?”
“No, please nothing.” I grit my teeth at the thought of food. “But we can’t leave him alone down here.”
“I will take you to bed and come back for the food.” Cecelia offers.
“No, Cecelia I’ve got her.” She has no medical training as far as I know, no way; I’m not leaving him with her.
“I’m ok, I can make it myself. Cecelia, I almost forgot, Dr. Carmichael is coming to stay with us. Can you get a room ready for him?” That will give her something to do so I don’t have to come right out and say ‘I don’t trust you to watch Evan.'
“Isaac please, really. I’ll be ok, can you just stay with him until Dr. Carmichael comes back?” I can see him scrambling mentally for another reason to take me himself.
“What about the security camera?” And there it is, he just found one.
“I’ll stay over here until he comes back. I slide down to the floor and put my head between my knees, I’m feeling a little faint. Cecelia knows the deal; she grabs the tray leaving us there to argue it out.
“How about Mr. Saint? Can I call him and have come and stay with Evan? Mia, you really need to get to bed, I’m sorry, but you kinda look awful.”
“Does he have medical training?”
“He was a Medic in the Marines, that good enough for ya?”
“Ok, yea.” He's dialling and propping the phone with his shoulder while gathering me up in his arms.
“I can walk Isaac,” I whine, but he ignores me to speak to Saint. “Hello sir, we need you in the chamber, Mia is sick, she needs help getting to her room.” The chamber? Why do they call the mini hospital a chamber? Ohh God, I don’t get a chance to figure that out before I begin retching all over Isaac. Well, that’s what he gets for being all hands on with a nauseated woman! He’s a trooper though, doesn’t even flinch, just starts toward the elevator, and even lets his phone fall between us into the foul smelling bile.
“Shit, I’m sorry Isaac, that came out of nowhere, your phone…”
“Don’t worry about it, phones can be replaced. Mr. Saint will meet us at the elevator entrance upstairs, Evan will only be alone for a few seconds. I don’t like it but the longer I stay here, the more he’s exposed. I look over at Evan; he’s breathing easily and sleeping. I nod in agreement, and we board the elevator. Inside the confined space, the smell is worse, yuck.
When the doors slide open Saint is standing waiting, and he looks pissed. He reaches for me, but Isaac side steps him. “We’re covered in vomit; I’ll take her.” Saint steps out of the way allowing us to pass. Humph, for a medic he’s sort of a pussy.
“You sure he was a medic?” I ask and Isaac chuckles
“Yea, it’s been a while, and I know for a fact he hates puke.” I’m feeling a little better by the time we’ve made it to the bedroom.
“I’m better now you can put me down.” He opens the door and sets me on my feet, his phone clatters to the floor when our bodies separate. We both go for it and bump heads.
“Shit!”
“Oh God, Mia, I’m sorry,” he's holding his head.
“Wow, it’s really not my day is it?” We both stand and I hand him his gross phone. “Sorry again about your phone.”
“Like I said…no biggie.”
“Um well, you wanna wash your hands or something?” I ask when the silence between us becomes uncomfortable.
“Oh, yeah sure, I guess I probably should, huh?” He heads into the bathroom, and I open one of the wardrobes to look for something comfy and clean to change into. I hear the water turn on and then off a few minutes later. I’ve chosen some cotton sleeping pants and a tank top, man I need a shower. When I turn, Isaac emerges from the bathroom with his shirt in his hands wadded up. Good Lord, he’s ripped! I figured he was in good shape, but jeez… I avert my eyes to the window and clear my throat.
“Ahem, um, Isaac…”
“Sorry, I had to take it off, puke ya know?” He's being genuine, I really don’t think he means to make me uncomfortable, but I am just the same. “Mia?” I look at him but my eyes dart between the door behind him and his chest, it’s impossible to ignore his physique.
“I’m sorry” he crosses his lean muscular arms across his chest. “I needed to get you alone…”
“Oh no, no, no!” I cut him off shaking my head back and forth vigorously. “Mr. Saint told me about your feelings for me. Isaac, you’re going to ruin this, you’re my best friend!” I back away from him my hands out in front of me, focusing on my feet.
“God no, Mia! That’s not why…I mean yea, I love you, shit who doesn’t? I just saw the handcuffs this morning and, fuck!” He drops his arms and begins to pace.
“And what?” I peek up at him fuzzy headed and sit on the floor before I fall on it.
“I don’t know what all he remembers from his old life, and I don’t know how much he’s told you but Mia, he’s the most dangerous man I’ve ever known, and I’ve known some pretty fucking nasty people. I thought he’d changed; I thought he was going to be all right after his accident after he met you. But if he’s hurting you, Mia, I swear I’ll fucking kill him!” I press my hand on my forehead; this is too much, this situation, Evan, Isaac, my life has become too fucking much! Isaac crouches down in front of me. “Mia, Dr. Carter might have had the wrong intentions but he wasn’t lying, Evan was a murderer, he tortured people in this very house, he abused women, moved drugs for the Ndrangheta, do you even know who they are? No, of course you don’t because he didn’t remember until now, that’s the problem, Mia. If he remembers the old Evan, who’s to say he won’t become that man again?”
A nuclear bomb explodes in my head; I don’t want to hear anymore, I don’t want to know anymore! “Ahhhhhhh!” I pull at my hair and scream, piercing the air around me, squeezing my eyes shut tight until sparks burst inside my lids. My scream like a ripple in a still pond reverberates through the house. Pond water is so sensitive, so easily disturbed, like me. Arms circle me in a tight embrace but I kick and fight my way free, pulling myself across the floor wildly with my arms, backing away from Isaac until I smash my back into the end of the bed and yell out again in pain. So much fucking pain, swarming like bees around a hive, I attract it, I can’t escape it. It just keeps coming and coming faster and more furious every time, teasing me with happiness only to slam down and crush me again. This is my life.
“Don’t you touch me! G
o! Leave me alone, I can’t believe you would betray him that way, you love him, he’s your friend!” I continue chucking my hysteria at Isaac, but he doesn’t stop coming toward me. Scrambling to my feet, my back is throbbing now, I crawl across the mattress to the other side of the bed where the handcuffs are in the night table drawer, I hop off the bed and yank it opens roughly snatching them, shaking them at Isaac.
“He didn’t hurt me!” I yell. He bows his head shaking it back and forth and thrusts his hand into his hair with frustration. “He fucked me while I was cuffed to the headboard, Isaac, is that what you need to hear? I spit the venomous words at him, and they hit the target with perfect accuracy. Shock rolls through him as he stumbles back a step, my words physically moving him.
“He was gentle and kind and tender and loving! The same way he’s always been when we are together!” I throw the cuffs at his bare chest and watch them bounce off and fall to our feet. Anger pulses through me, and I want nothing more than to inflict more pain on Isaac, the same way he just hurt me.
“I loved it, his hands all over my naked skin, I rode him nice and slow while he took control,” I say dragging my words out slowly, seething mad, cutting and wounding him with every detail. I can’t think past the moment, hurting Isaac is my only focus, my soul purpose and from the looks of him I’m succeeding. Cecelia bursts through the door gasping for air. Her eyes scan my body from head to toe looking for some sort of physical injury. “Ms. Mia, are you ok? I heard you screaming from the kitchen!”
“She’s fine, Cecelia, just tired and sick; she needs to rest.”
“I do not! Isaac’s an asshole who stabs his best friend in the back! He’s just jealous; he wants to get into my pants, so he’s trying to turn me against my own husband!”
“Wha..?” Cecelia stammers in confusion.
“Never mind, Cecelia, she probably has a fever,” he turns to face me narrowing his eyes to glare at me when he speaks his next words. “She. Just. Needs. To. Rest.” he pauses pointedly between every word making it very clear what he expects me to do. I grit my teeth so hard I’ll probably need a dentist tomorrow but between the fury and nausea it’s my only outlet for the stress. The room falls quiet with the three of us looking from one to the other, waiting for someone to end the stalemate when I realize in a few seconds it’s not going to be me.
Tunnel vision and no hearing, yea, I’m going to pass out. Cecelia yells and shakes her hands gesturing in my direction for Isaac to catch me, the last thing I see is him coming toward me and then…nothing. Once again, my body protects me from pain and possibly the crippling truth about my husband.
When I come to, I hear the spattering of running water hitting the tile floor, I open my eyes to a very worried Cecelia. “I’ll help you get cleaned up, ok? Let’s get these smelly clothes off of you.” I look down, and I’m still dressed in my jeans and vomit covered sweatshirt, I smell horrible, and I feel worse. My tummy lightly churns, my head throbs, my throat is sore from screaming and my heart pounds.
I’ve been carried upstairs to the shower in our original room, by Isaac no doubt. The bathroom in our makeshift quarters has only a tub. Thank God it’s Cecelia in the shower with me and not Isaac, at least he knows enough not to cross that line! Sitting on the stone seat in the shower I close my eyes and sigh while I allow Cecelia to remove my clothes and point the soothing spray of water in my direction. She pays no mind to the fact that the shower soaks her in the process. Instead, she just works at removing my clothes with an occasional bit of help from me. Handing me a puff with a large amount of body wash to clean myself with she silently begins working on my hair, shampooing, rinsing and using damn near an entire bottle of conditioner. She toils away until the wide toothed comb she’s been using glides through my hair effortlessly.
It’s been a long time since I’ve needed help bathing and managing my hair; my mother had to do it for months after I was attacked. I was so grateful for her help then, and I’m grateful for Cecelia now, she’s like a substitute mom. When we are done, she shuts the water off and steps out grabbing a towel to wrap around me before she dries herself. “Cecelia, thank you, please go dry off. I feel bad that you’ve gotten all wet.”
“I’m ok, don’t worry about me.” I have no fight left in me, none, zip, zero, so I let her lead me to the bench that sits facing the bathroom mirror. Only when she has me off of my feet does she grab a towel for herself and dry off. I watch her behind me in the mirror throwing the towel in the laundry shoot and returning to me without a word she and braids my hair down my back after toweling it dry.
When she’s done, she looks into the mirror catching my eyes before speaking. “I know you don’t want to hear what Mr. Isaac told you, whatever he told you, but you need to know this.” She pauses to give me a chance to refuse her, but I don’t, I can’t, it feels like whatever she has to say is important.
“Mr. Lawson…Evan, he was a good boy. I have taken care of him since his mama and papa died. I watched him change from a sad, sweet, shy boy into a monster. I know the things he did but I know this too. God makes miracles. Evan drove off that bridge, and God gave him a second chance for life. He took that troubled girl to heaven, and he took the monster from Evan’s soul. What he did in the past is the past; he’s not that man anymore. You’re married to the Evan I always prayed he would be. The man with no mafia to ruin him.”
We look at each other in the mirror for a time, her hands on my shoulders her eyes begging me to forgive Evan for his past and Isaac for caring enough to risk his life warning me. There is no doubt in my mind, especially after the incident with Dr. Carter that Evan would pummel Isaac within an inch of his life if he knew he had spoken to me, no… warned me… about him. I nod a slow, shaky, agreement to let this go and make amends with Isaac. How am I going to erase my husband’s past from my memory? The information Dr. Carter tried to poison me against my husband with, the stories I’ve been trying to deny ever since were all confirmed by Isaac today.
“I can’t do it yet, Cecelia,” I admit and drop my chin to my chest. She massages my shoulders silently and kisses the top of my head before leaving and pulling the doors together with a gentle click. I return my eyes to the tired woman in the mirror staring back at me. “What are you going to do?” I ask myself before pulling myself up and making my way back downstairs to our alternate bedroom.
Opening the doors to our room, I slip inside shivering from having wet hair and walking through the drafty house in just a towel but surprisingly I feel much better. The T.V. is on; it’s set to the security system and the camera is focused on Evan, zoomed in as close as it can probably get I am able to watch his every breath.
Isaac did this for me, even after I was so ruthless in my attack on his feelings. Shit. I feel guilty, like I totally overreacted, in fact, I feel like I’m not entirely in touch with my emotions at all. Placing my hand on my own forehead and wonder if I’m finally losing it, can a sane person tolerate this much stress and continue to be sane? I inhale deeply and blow out a big breath, drop my hand limply to my side and make my way to end of the bed and lean on the footboard to watch the source of my roller coaster ride of emotions.
He’s resting quietly, I can’t see who’s is with him because the camera is zoomed so close into his face, but I assume it’s Mr. Saint. My heart flutters in my chest and that familiar magnetic feeling of being bonded together courses though me just looking at him. I wonder if that will ever fade? If, over time, this extreme need to occupy the same space and breathe the same air will diminish, or will it grow stronger? I can’t imagine things being more intense between us, but then again I couldn’t even imagine loving a man a few short months ago. Now I’m drowning in him, consumed by him, even married to him. It’s strange and surreal but natural and necessary at the same time.
He is my sun; my existence depends on him to warm me, provide me with life. If my sun ceases to exist, I wither and die. I don’t think many people find their sun very often in this wo
rld, and that saddens me. Everyone deserves unconditional, passionate, unmatched all-encompassing love, the other side of their coin, a reason to live.
I’m lost in thoughts of forever love when two little blurs wiz through the room, taking a severe turn when they nearly crash into my wardrobe. They grip the carpet with their sharp claws for greater traction and chase each other under the bed.
“Oh! There you are!” Someone must have let them back into our room, someone who knows I need a distraction and a little love right now. It could have been Isaac or Cecelia; both have developed a knack for anticipating my needs. Kneeling down to look under the bed, I immediately have one black and one white bundle of energy pouncing on me. I tip over on my side gripping my towel, giggling as they bat at my face and nudge my hands for attention.
“So you love me when he’s not around, huh? Playing favorites isn’t nice, you know.” I tease and watch as they attack invisible threats under the bed. “I’ve got to get dressed little monsters, don’t break anything.” I stand too quickly and find myself grabbing hold of the bedpost until the blood returns to my head, and my vision is corrected. I thought maybe whatever was wrong with me had passed but apparently I haven’t seen the end of it.
Once I’m dressed in a pair of cotton sleeping pants and a tank top, I debate going down to see Evan or just getting into bed. I feel better, the severe nausea and dizziness have passed, leaving me with only a mild stomach ache and sore muscles from vomiting. I want to see him, but I better not risk it. As much as I know he will be pissed when he wakes up down there without me, I also know he’s better off not being exposed.
I sink down under the duvet and between the Egyptian cotton sheets that Evan and I just made love on last night. I hug his pillow and breathe in the mixture of his earthy eucalyptus and my light lilac scents combined with sex. The potent scent invokes a strong physical reaction deep in my core. I long to have him back in our bed, to curl up against, to be warmed by his skin, to have him inside of me, part of me. Somehow I’ve been blessed and cursed at the same time with such a deep unlimited love. He brought part of me to life, but his past has me in a choke hold.