by J. Lea
“Where are you, slowpoke? I’m not going to wait around forever,” Everly calls. Her voice is muffled by the wind but still strong enough it cuts through the fog in my brain. She turns around, rollerblading backwards, a grin on her lips, which feels warmer than the sun.
I catch up to her easily and wrap my arms around her waist. We’re still moving, when I spin us around, making her shriek. She accidentally hits my knee, making me stumble and we both crash to the grass on our left in a tangled heap of limbs, her lips almost touching mine.
“Klutz.” She giggles, her hair falling in waves on my face as she lifts her head, looking at me.
“What? Now I’m the klutz?” I feign insult. “You’re the one who hit me.” My hand on her hips tightens.
“If you kept your hands to yourself, we wouldn’t be lying here now.” The playfulness in her voice tells me she’s having fun even though we’re both lying in grass. Shaking her head, she makes a funny face while pouting her lips. “You have grass in your hair.” After she removes it, she pushes herself off the ground. Extending her hand to help me get up, she examines herself and starts swiping at her legs to clean off the dirt. “I think I need a shower, look at us.”
A great idea pops in my head. “Take off your rollerblades.” I start doing the same, but she stands still, regarding me with narrowed eyes.
“Why?”
“Come on, just do what I say.”
“Okay. Now what?” she asks as she pulls her second rollerblade off her foot.
Returning the rollerblades to the rental place, I can’t keep a mischievous grin off my face as I slowly stalk toward her. She sees the intent in my eyes, so she starts moving backwards, raising her hands in defense.
“Don’t you dare!” she tells me, laugh in her voice.
Smirking at her panicked expression, I grab her and swing her over my shoulder so her ass is in the air, her hands smacking my back.
“Put me down!” she shrieks in laughter, flailing her legs in the air, as I run toward the beach.
“Gladly.” When I’m up to my hips in water, I let her go. I don’t expect her grip on me being so tight and she pulls me under the water with her.
Her head pops out, and she tilts it back so her hair slides off her face. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“Now you won’t have to worry about being stinky,” I tease her.
Faking an outraged gasp, she puts her hands on her hips for bigger emphasis, “I don’t stink!”
She’s absolutely right, of course. She always smells amazing. “Well, maybe a teeny bit.” I show her with a thumb and index finger slightly apart.
Everly punches me in the stomach and tries to push me under the water, but to no avail. She’s light as a feather, so I have her under in seconds.
“That’s not fair,” she splutters when she resurfaces and splashes me with water. I spray her right back, and a splashing war ensues. She eventually surrenders, running from me, her laughter a beautiful melody to my ears. When I catch up with her, I crush her to me, her back to my front, and wrap my arms around her shoulders. Embraced like that she can’t really move, so she stops resisting, breathing heavily. I can feel her heart beat as if trying to escape her chest. If I’d bent down a little, I could kiss the tender spot between her shoulder and her neck. I’m tempted.
“Do you surrender?”
“Never.” Her laugh is laced with challenge.
“Is that so?”
We both jump, when a plastic ball lands before us. Letting her go, I bend, and throw it back at a father and son playing on the beach.
“Thanks!” the father calls. With a nod, I turn back to Everly, getting a splash of water right into my face.
“Oh, that was a low blow.”
We both stumble on the beach ten minutes later, plopping our asses in the sand, catching our breaths. Her wet hair is falling on her face, clinging to her skin.
“You play dirty.”
“Me?” She raises a brow. “You were the one who kept my head under water. I was just defending myself.”
After she splashed me, I went for her, caught her of course, and pushed her under. But she bit my thigh and escaped.
I pull my shirt off, and it doesn’t escape me Everly’s eyes are trained on my bare chest. “You could take some clothes off, too, you know.”
“Ha, nice try. I think I’m okay.”
“Worth a try.” I give her a cheeky grin. “There’s a spare shirt and a towel back in my car. I’ll go grab them for you.”
“No need to. It’s hot, I’ll be dry in no time.”
But I run to my car anyway. I’m back in a blink of an eye and hand both to her. I try really hard not to peek while she changes. I almost succeed. Almost.
Walking on the beach, with the waves caressing our feet, we talk about anything and everything until the sky is filled with millions upon millions of bright stars. We finally take a little break and sit down.
“Thanks for this,” Everly says quietly. “I needed a little distraction and fun.”
“So did I.” Leaning back on my elbow, I draw circles in the sand.
Our conversation shifts to our college years, and Everly tells me a funny anecdote of when her best friend Amber applied for a part-time job at a bistro on behalf of both of them.
“I thought I was going to kill her.” She giggles. “She said we were going to be hostesses. Can you imagine the look on my face when the owner gave us the chicken costumes we were supposed to wear? I can still hear the clucking noises people made at us on the street.”
“I would’ve loved to see you hidden beneath so many feathers,” I laugh. “I bet you were an adorable chicken.”
“Shut up!” She jokingly punches my shoulder. “I could never go there again after that day. I was so embarrassed.”
“That’s nothing. When Phoenix and I were in high school we sprayed a car with graffiti. Imagine our surprise when that car turned out to be the principal’s and his kid was who we constantly fought with. We had three days to scrub off the red spray from the black mustang.” I can’t help but to run my eyes down the length of her legs.
She looks incredibly sexy in my T-shirt that falls halfway down her thighs, covering her shorts. The sight of it prompts all sorts of sexy thoughts to come to mind.
“Did it come off?”
I get on my feet and help her get up, too. It’s getting late; even though it was fun to escape the real life for an afternoon, it’s time to go home.
“No,” I shake my head. “We had a month of detention and had to do all sorts of odd jobs around the school so the principal wouldn’t report us to the cops.”
“Juvenile delinquents, huh?” Her eyes shine as she’s teasing me.
“You could say that, yes.” I nod. “I was always getting in trouble.” I unlock the car and open the passenger door for Everly. When I get behind the wheel, Everly’s stomach growls. We look at each other, erupting in laughter. “You want to grab a bite?”
“Mayb—” she starts, but the loud ringing of my cell interrupts her.
“Sorry.” I left my phone in my car on purpose, I didn’t want any distractions. Dana’s name lights up the screen. “Hey, Dana.”
“Don’t ‘hey’ me.” She sounds pissed off. “Where are you? I’ve been waiting for you like an idiot. Are you coming or what?”
Furrowing my brow, I remember my promise to her. “Shit. I’m sorry. I totally forgot.”
“So you aren’t coming?” She whines, disappointment clear in her voice. I sneak a look at Everly, who’s eyes are on me. She gives me a small smile.
“No.” I scratch my head, shuffling in my seat. “I’m busy right now. But I’ll make it up to you, okay?”
“I don’t want you to make it up to me. I need you now. I look like a fool, waiting for you all dressed up. What am I supposed to do now, huh? I’m not letting you off the hook for this one.” I promised Dana I’ll be her plus one at some gala event, after she pestered me about it for a whole month whi
ch wore me down eventually.
“I know, and I’m really sorry.” It’s not like me to forget a promise I made.
“I can walk home if you need to go,” Everly says. I shake my head at her.
“Did I hear a woman’s voice? Who’s with you?”
“Everly.”
“Everly?” she hisses. “Seriously? You ditched me because of her?”
“I already said I was sorry, I lost track of time. I promise to make it up to you, and I mean it. I have to go now. Bye.” I shove the phone onto the dashboard, and sigh.
“She sounded furious.”
“She’ll get over it.” I’m used to her outbursts by now.
“If you need to go—”
Not a chance in hell. “No,” I say firmly. “Let’s go eat.” I’ve never broken a promise before, but being around Everly apparently makes me forget everything.
“Why don’t we just go home? It’s getting late; besides, I can’t go to a restaurant looking like this.” She points at the oversized shirt she’s wearing. “And I need to take a shower.”
I think she looks beautiful, but I just nod. “As you wish.”
S trange moaning sounds wake me up and judging by the darkness in the room, it’s still night. One glance at the phone lets me know it’s 215 AM.
“Ugh!” I bury my face in the pillow. The moaning finally stops a few seconds later, allowing me to shut my eyes again. It doesn’t take long before moaning starts up again. It takes me minutes before I realize they don’t sound like pleasure moans but like someone is in pain. I slide out of bed and open my door. The bathroom door is open, the lights are on. Someone is puking their guts out. I gently knock before entering. Sitting on the floor by the toilet, sweaty and ashen, I find Connor. I run to his side, kneel down, and press a hand on his back.
“What’s going on?”
“It must be something I ate. My stomach started bothering me as soon we finished eating, but I thought it’ll pass.”
“I told you that ham smelled funny. You should’ve listen to me and thrown it away.” When we came home earlier, he helped himself to a turkey ham sandwich. I thought it looked weird, and smelled too, but he didn’t listen. He wolfed down the whole sandwich while I only ate a croissant.
I place a hand on his forehead to check his temperature. It’s clammy and he’s burning up. He heaves but nothing comes up. He’s been throwing up for so long his stomach is completely empty. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he fumbles to his feet. He walks slowly to the sink, splashes water in his face and rinses his mouth with mouthwash.
“Can I get you anything?” He looks exhausted.
Connor shakes his head. “I think I’m feeling a little better. I’m going back to bed.” I help him reach his room where he drops down on the mattress, face down. I throw a blanket over him because he’s shivering.
“Do you have any extra blankets in here?” I ask, and he points to the closet while he turns around. I find a bunch of soft blankets on the top shelf, then I pull out two. “Here, you should feel a little better.” I move the wet hair sticking to his forehead to the side. He surprises me by grabbing my wrist.
“Thank you.” The look in his eyes tells me he’s truly grateful.
“No problem. Now rest.” It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep while I trace my fingers over his forehead gently. I stay a few minutes longer to make sure he’s going to be okay. His chest rises and falls, but his face is twisted, and he’s still pale. I can’t help myself. I run my hand through his hair, just a light touch so I don’t wake him up. Running downstairs, I take a bottle of water from the fridge and put it on his nightstand.
An hour later, the same sound wakes me up again. He’s still throwing up.
“You aren’t feeling any better?” I ask concerned as I find him in the same position as before in the bathroom. He just shakes his head. “Did you drink any of the water I left on the nightstand?”
“No.”
“You need to drink so you’re not dehydrated.”
“I can’t,” he moans, hugging the toilet again, but he only dry heaves.
“You need to force yourself, even if only a sip at a time. We need to get fluids in your body.” I gently rub his back. Connor lifts his head slightly so he can look me in the eyes.
“Fine,” he mutters. I fetch the water bottle from his room and give it to him. “Why aren’t you in bed?” he asks, his voice raspy, tired.
“You’re sick. I want to help you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“But I want to.” I’m not the kind of person who leaves a sick person to their own devices.
I help him to his bed once more, and the rest of the night passes without further complications.
At seven in the morning, Connor is still sleeping. Dolores just left for work; I told her about the incident. I gave Carlos all his medicine, made him breakfast, and left him in front of the television to watch his favorite show. Later, we’re going for our daily walk. I wake up Ava because I’ll be the one to take her to preschool today. Connor needs his rest, and I doubt he’d be feeling well enough to sit behind the wheel.
“Can I wear a skirt?” Ava mumbles sleepily, sitting on her bed.
I browse the contents of her closet.
“Okay. What about this one?” I pull out a black, ruffled skirt, tights, and a purple Elsa shirt.
“I don’t want the black one. I want the pink skirt I had tomorrow.”
“Yesterday,” I correct her. “You wore the pink one yesterday, but you spilled ice cream on it so you can’t have it.”
“But those one is my favorite.” Her shoulders sag.
“I know. But that one,” I correct her again, “is filthy and in the basket with the rest of the dirty clothes. You can wear this one, or you can wear just tights. Your choice.”
She extends her chubby little hand. “Fine, I’ll wear the black skirt, but I don’t like it. The pink skirt is pretty,” she sulks. I swallow my laugh. If she’s fussy about clothes now I’m scared to think what she’ll be like in a few years.
“Where is your hair brush? Do you want your hair in a braid or a ponytail?”
Ava pulls her shirt over her head. “Can I have it down like you?”
I shake my head. “Your grandma said you have gym class today, so you need to have your hair up.”
When Ava is done dressing, she brings me her brush and plops on the bed. “A braid.” She drops an elastic band in my palm. “Why is Daddy still sleeping?” I told her Connor’s still in bed, and she should let him rest.
“He isn’t feeling well.”
“Why?” Ava asks and touches the braid I just made.
“While you were sleeping, Daddy was throwing up. And since he didn’t get any sleep, he’s tired,” I explain.
She creases her forehead. “But Daddy is never sick.”
“Even grown-ups get sick sometimes, sweetie,” I explain.
“Is he going to die? Like Mommy?” she asks sadly. “I don’t want him to die.”
Oh. “No, Ava. He just has a tummy ache. When he gets enough sleep, he’ll feel much better. You’ll see.”
“Promise?”
I smile. “I promise.” I stroke her cheek.
After she eats breakfast, I help Ava brush her teeth, and I take her to preschool. I have a long day ahead of me, I can tell.
When Carlos and I return from our walk, I find Connor lying on the living room couch, the television on and an opened packet of crackers.
“How are you feeling?” Carlos asks him when he joins him on the couch.
“Better. At least I stopped throwing up. How was your stroll around town?” I see color is slowly returning to his face.
“Don’t even ask. It was horrible. Horrible.” Carlos replies dryly. “I feel like Everly’s training me for a marathon. We walk further every day.”
We all chuckle at Carlos’s attempt at complaining.
“It was just half an hour,” I tease him, poking his
shoulder affectionately.
“It felt like three hours to me. I think it’s best if I go lay down before she drags me out for another round.” He winks at me. I get up to help him, but he stops me. “I can handle those three steps to my room on my own, thank you very much. Have fun, kids.”
I like seeing the playful and cheerful side of him. Happy, I turn to Connor, his gaze is already fixed on me. He watches me as if he’s trying to read me. I get goose bumps under the weight of his stare. I shift in my seat.
“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.” I give him an awkward smile.
“Me too. I felt like crap. Thank you for helping me.”
“I didn’t do much.”
“You were by my side, that’s more than not much.”
“No problem.” I smile. “Do you want some soup? Your stomach would appreciate a light, warm meal, and I’ll bring some to Carlos, too. His appetite isn’t that good lately.”
He nods. “How is he doing? The truth, please.”
“He’s weak but he’s not getting worse, so that’s good. I’d like to see him eat more, but I’m really glad he stopped fighting me about our daily walks, it’s good for his health, and his mood has improved. His blood tests are also better than the last time, but not ideal, of course. We need to make sure he doesn’t have any complications with his liver and hypercalcemia again.”
“Yep, that thing with the high calcium had us worried for a minute there. We really thought he was dying. I’ve never seen him in such a bad condition. That’s why Dolores decided she needs professional help once he came back from the hospital.”
“She did the right thing.”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he says, his gaze boring into mine, “to help him, I mean.”
“Sure,” I force a smile. For a second there, I thought he meant to finish the sentence differently. “Well,” I say, getting up, “I’m going to make some soup.”
The day slowly turns into night, and I’m just rolling up my yoga mat, ready to hit the shower before bed, when my cell dings.