Love Wasted

by Shirl Rickman

  “Laney, go get Mrs. Porter,” I order without looking away from Cass. Laney runs off in the direction of the house. Cass is cradling her arm against her chest. “Cass, put your arm around my neck,” I suggest gently. She does as I said, and a tiny whimper escapes her when she first moves. I slide my arms under her long, gangly legs and scoop her up.

  Luckily, she isn’t very heavy, so I carry her toward her house just as Mrs. Porter comes running out with worry on her face and Laney not too far behind her. Matt is scrambling at my side.

  “Oh my gosh! Cassandra!” Mrs. Porter screams as she draws nearer. “Paxton, put her in the car.”

  Matt opens the back door so I can place her in the back seat and Laney jumps in on the other side while Mrs. Porter runs into the house to grab her keys. I’ve never seen her move so fast.

  When looking back down at Cass’s face, I see it’s white as a sheet, which makes my stomach turn because normally she’s the shade of caramel candy. Her eyes are wide and bloodshot, but still no tears. As I set her down, she shakes her head and holds on to my neck. She won’t let go, and after a second I realize she wants me to go too. I climb in without putting her down, and it feels strange being worried about her.

  It doesn’t feel like the same kind of worry I felt when Laney had the chicken pox, and I heard mom say her fever was dangerously high. This concern seems different.

  As we pull out of the driveway, all of us piled into the Porters’ car, Cass speaks for the first time.

  “Pax,” Cass says weakly, and I look down at her.

  “Yeah?” My throat feels a little tight because I can see the pain in her eyes.

  “I didn’t cry,” she whispers, and then she closes her eyes.

  A small smile stretches across my face, and I just look out the window, holding Cass, protecting her.

  Present

  When I open the door of the apartment, I can barely stand up, and my stomach is revolting against any movement.

  “Cass, our reservation is for an hour from now. Why aren’t you dressed?” The tone of his voice is agitated as he brushes past me. He doesn’t even glance in my direction—if he had, he would have seen me stumble and put my hand against the wall for support.

  “Seriously, Cassandra, we need to go or we will never make it on time.”

  He finally swings around, looks up from his phone, and takes me in. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He grimaces but takes a hesitant step toward me, slightly reaching his hand in the direction of my forehead then pulling back just before he makes contact.

  I wrap one arm around my middle. “I don’t feel very…” I can’t finish my sentence because I realize I need to make a mad dash for the bathroom. I need to get to the toilet because breakfast and lunch are about to make a reappearance. Richard jumps back as I run past him with both hands covering my mouth.

  I barely reach the bathroom in time. Jesus, I want my mom right now. I’ve never been very good at being sick. I feel tears beneath my eyelids, on the brink of spilling over. The stress I feel in my stomach is painful. The tile floor feels cold and clammy, or maybe that’s me. Once I stop heaving, my head falls to my forearms, which I have folded over the toilet seat.

  “Uh, Cassandra, are you okay?” Richard asks from the doorway. “Can…Can I get you anything?”

  He hasn’t ever been very comforting in situations like this. Over the years in our relationship, I’ve learned a few things about Richard, one of them being that he doesn’t take care of sick people—not even the girl he says he has some sort of commitment to. This is huge—the fact that he’s standing this close to me, even though he’s still five feet away. I can’t open my eyes because the thought of moving them makes me nauseous, and I can only imagine what actually moving them would feel like. I really want him to come hold me, but I know that’s not an option. “A glass of water please.”

  I’m not sure if he answered me or not. I don’t think I even register him leaving or coming back until I hear the clanking of the glass being placed down on the tile floor beside me. “Cassandra, I left a glass of water beside you…I’m going to go…I’m sorry, but I can’t get sick right now. There’s too much going on at work,” Richard mumbles from the doorway again.

  I want to call him a fucking prick. I want to ask him if he’s fucking kidding, but instead, a low moan is all that leaves my mouth. “I’ll check on you later,” he tells me just before I hear his footsteps retreat from the bathroom and then the distant sound of the front door closing.

  God only knows how much time passes before I open my eyes again. I’m only aware that I have emptied myself of what seems like two weeks’ worth of meals. I’m cold, and perspiration glistens across my skin. I’m lying on my side with my cheek to the floor, and everything hurts. My top is soaked through, and I need to get it off. Slowly, I begin to peel my shirt up my body, succeeding at getting one arm out before it falls limply to the floor. Another agonizing moan echoes through the bathroom. This is straight-up bullshit. I feel like I’m dying, and the guy who has supposedly cared for me for years left me on the bathroom floor, practically helpless. I reach for my waist of my skirt and slide it clumsily down my legs until it’s at my feet then gingerly kick my feet until I’m free. My shirt is still halfway on, but I can’t move quite yet. My limbs weigh a hundred pounds each, and the thought brings tears to my eyes. I couldn’t be any more pathetic.

  Okay, maybe if I start calling for my mommy like I really want to then I may be more pathetic, but I won’t. I’m a twenty-six-year-old woman whose non-boyfriend left her alone on the floor of her best friend’s bathroom when she’s puking her brains out… Oh god, I’m so pitiful. Tears begin streaming down my face, creating a tiny puddle on the tile next to where my head lies. And now I’m crying. These tears are exactly why I hate being sick—it makes me vulnerable, and being vulnerable makes me emotional. I’m just going to close my eyes…then maybe all of this will go away.

  “Cass! What in the hell?” a voice shouts, waking me from my haze. I try to open my eyes, but it seems impossible. A cold hand touches my forehead first, then my neck, arms, and face, gently but frantically. My eyes finally open enough for me to see Paxton kneeling over me, worry etched across his features. Before I can say anything, he’s lifting me into his arms, cradling me against his chest. “I’ve got you, Cass. I’m just going to lay you on the bed.” His voice sounds soft and soothing, and the worry I hear makes me want to start crying again, though for a different reason this time. “Jesus, Cassandra, you’re burning up.” His lips lightly touch the skin of my forehead then Paxton carefully sets me on the soft, plush mattress. “I’m going to get a wet cloth and some water.” He pauses, caressing my cheek softly, then continues, “And a trash can.”

  Closing my eyes, I sigh in relief because this bed feels a hell of a lot better than the cold, hard tile floor of Laney’s bathroom. I don’t even care that its’s Paxton that’s here while I’m half naked, or that if I could actually open my eyes, they’d probably be all heart-shaped just thinking about the fact that he’s taking care of me. Oh, fuck! I can’t be sick. I don’t want him to see me this way—not Paxton. Anyone but Paxton.

  “I’m going to sit you up.” His voice startles me awake. I hadn’t even realized I’d drifted back to sleep. “It’s just me,” he says softly. Carefully, he lifts me up so I can lean against the pillows. Paxton handles me in the most nurturing manner, and my eyes begin to sting again. I feel on the verge of death, and I can’t guard my heart. It’s just me—such a simple thing to say, but there is nothing “just” about Paxton Luke.

  Lifting the glass to my lips, I do my best to take a sip. It’s cool to my tongue, and I’m filled with a small sense of relief. “Thank you.” It’s barely a whisper. I look at him for the first time since he picked me up off the floor, and he looks so…so…so Paxton. Effortlessly good-looking. Completely unaware. Utterly oblivious to the effect his presence has on the world around him. Without hesitating, I reach for his hand. I’m definite
ly not thinking clearly.

  I catch him glancing down at my hand covering his before he moves to pick up the wet cloth he brought for me. My hand falls to the bed.

  My eyes close of their own volition and everything fades into darkness.

  When I come to again, I can feel the cool, damp cloth smooth over my skin. I release a quiet, appreciative sigh. “Welcome back.” I can hear the relief in his voice. “I’m going to let you get some sleep. Let’s leave the washcloth around your neck to cool you.” He starts to leave. My mouth is too dry to speak so instead, I reach out with every bit of energy I can muster and take hold of his wrist.

  “Stay…” I croak. “Don’t leave me again.”

  He stops and although I feel myself drifting back to sleep, I hear him say, “I won’t leave you.”

  Pulling on his arm, I do my best to move over on the bed to make room for him. He follows my movements and lies down beside me then places the blanket at the end of the bed over me. He takes my hand in his and allows me to cradle our interlocked hands against my chest. I release a long sigh, and a hint of a smile touches my lips.

  “I can’t lose you again.” My words are barely a whisper.

  “Cass, what are you saying?” Paxton asks, sounding confused and concerned.

  “Don’t leave. Sleep,” I say just before I drift off once again.

  Present

  Opening my eyes, I feel a bit disoriented and unaware of my surroundings. The light streaming into the room is blinding and I shield my eyes instinctually. Suddenly, I’m alerted to the warmth of someone holding my hand and remember falling asleep with a very sick Cassandra talking nonsense. I’m not sure how long I lay here awake last night, thinking about the last words she spoke before she drifted off to sleep.

  Turning on my side, I allow my gaze to roam over her soft, feminine features. The delicate way her lashes curl up when her eyes are closed. The small mole just above the corner of her mouth. Cass is arresting, captivating. My thoughts begin to overwhelm me—she overwhelms me.

  “Cassandra?” A male voice startles me from my thoughts. I turn my head to find a stunned Richard standing in the doorway. I’m trying to read his expression, but it’s like he can’t decide how he feels about the fact that I’m lying here in bed with Cass curled up next to me, my hand in hers. A laugh bubbles in my chest. “Uh…hey Paxton,” he finally says, quietly.

  I better put this guy out of his misery. Gently, I remove my hand from Cass’s clutch.

  “Hey Dick.” He scowls at my nickname for him. “We should probably let her sleep; it was a rough night.” I get up and walk past him to the other side of the bed. Lightly, I place my hand against Cassandra’s forehead. She no longer feels as hot as she did last night, and I sigh in relief.

  When I look up, Richard is still watching me with a curious look on his face. “So, you stayed with her all night? I guess I’m glad to know she wasn’t on the floor the whole time,” he states, his voice still sounding annoyed.

  Lifting my brow, I look at him quizzically. “You what?” I’m trying to put two and two together based on what he just said. “How’d you know Cass was on the floor?” I’m afraid I’m not going to like his answer.

  “Well, I was here when she got sick, but I don’t do sick very well. Work and being sick really doesn’t work for me right now.”

  “You left her?” My face feels like it’s on fire and my hand is beginning to twitch. “She was lying on the bathroom floor, vomiting and feverish, and you thought it was okay to just leave her alone?” His eyes widen as I start to take a step forward.

  Before I can move too far away, a tiny hand wraps around my wrist, reminiscent of last night. “Pax…” she says in a soft, hoarse voice.

  The discussion I was just about to have with our friend Dick becomes an afterthought—for now.

  “Pax,” she says again.

  “Hey…yeah, I’m here.” My voice is calm, although inside I’m fighting a battle to keep my cool. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Richard has moved closer. His gaze is bouncing between Cassandra and me.

  “I’m thirsty,” she whispers. Her eyes are opening for the first time, and when her gaze lands on mine, she gives me an almost smile. Then she catches a glimpse of the other person in the room and drops my hand. “Oh, Richard. When did you get back?”

  “Yeah Dick, it’s so kind of you to check up on Cass this morning. I mean, your concern for her health is unbelievable, Dick.” Anger coats my words, and I keep repeating his nickname because I know he hates it.

  He glares at me, his jaw tense. I return his penetrating gaze with one of my own.

  “Richard, you shouldn’t have come this morning. I could still get you sick,” Cassandra says, interrupting our standoff.

  “Yes, Dick, she could still get you sick. Also, she has me to take care of her.” I’m not letting up. This guy is a douchebag. I only thought I didn’t like him before, but now I know I don’t like him. He left Cass lying helpless on the floor because he was afraid of getting sick himself. Dammit, I want to kick his ass, and my jaw twitches as I clench my teeth.

  Moving his attention to Cassandra, he sits on the bed and takes her hand in his, although he hesitates slightly before doing so. “I shouldn’t have left you. I’m sorry.” He tries hard to pretend he isn’t paying attention to my continued observation of his proximity to her.

  “I understand,” she replies weakly. “Actually, I don’t really understand, but I know you don’t do sick people, so I guess what I mean to say is, I get you and your reasoning for leaving me.”

  An irritated huff escapes me, and they both look in my direction. Why won’t she call him out and tell him he’s an asshole? I stare right back at Richard without apology. He at least looks like he feels somewhat like a jackass, but then his eyes dart to mine. I realize then that he feels bad more because I was willing to help her and it makes me look good.

  Cass looks over at me, and I watch as she tries to gather her thoughts. “Thank you, Pax, for taking care of me. I’m sorry if I was a pain in the ass.” She hesitates before continuing, “God, I’m thirsty.”

  The look on her face brings a smile to mine, especially when I notice Richard grimacing. “No problem. I’ll leave you two alone and get you more water.” She nods, the smile she had fading as a blank expression covers her face, one I can’t read. I hate when her walls go up, and it seems they’re suddenly back up. Glancing one more time in Richard’s direction, I can see his relief that I’m leaving the room. I’d like nothing better than to stay right there if for no other reason than the fact that he wants me gone.

  I don’t stop until I’m standing alone in the kitchen. Placing Cass’s glass from last night in the sink, I decide to pull out a clean one for her.

  Once I fill it up with cool tap water, I make my way back down the hall until I’m just outside her bedroom door. Listening to their hushed tones, I barely make out Richard apologizing again. Cass tries to ease his mind then I hear him say my name, and there isn’t anything friendly about it.

  When Cassandra responds, I can tell she is defending my actions and hers, and frustration seeps into her voice. She sounds so small, and it only makes me feel more protective. He left her alone, on a cold bathroom floor, sick with fever, and he’s giving her a hard time.

  Footsteps grow louder until I’m standing face to face with Richard outside the doorway. His eyes are sharp, searching for the answer to a question he hasn’t even asked. My manner is unapologetic for eavesdropping on their conversation, and even more unrepentant for being the one who took care of Cass when she needed someone.

  “Here.” I hold the glass of cool water out to him. “She needs this, and maybe take her temperature too. It was pretty high last night.” My voice is cold.

  Without another word, I turn on my heels and walk directly into my room, shutting the door behind me. I sit on my bed with my head in my hands, willing the unfamiliar feeling of jealousy to leave my mind…and my heart.

  Presen
t

  Walking through the doors of the restaurant, I glance around, searching for Richard. We’re finally having the dinner date we missed the other night when I was so sick. He’s kept his distance after showing up the day after I fell ill, saying he was letting me have time to get well. I wanted to roll my eyes at his explanation, but it’s Richard. He’s never once been overly concerned or nurturing when I’ve been sick in the last five years. The more I think about it, the more I think Laney is right. Richard and I have an unusual relationship.

  It’s worked for us. The benefits were mutual. There weren’t any of the pressures that come from a normal relationship, and we cared enough about one another to respect each other. It was the deal. Every time we tried for more, it didn’t feel right, so we would talk and fall back into our usual pattern. There was never anyone else, and I was okay with that because having someone else created complications.

  I spot him sitting at the bar and wave when he sees me too.

  “Hey,” I say as I walk up to him and place a kiss on his cheek.

  He smiles. “Hey back.”

  Taking a seat next to him, I pick up the drink menu.

  “Should we order an appetizer and just sit here?” I ask without looking up at him, continuing to skim the menu.

  Placing his hand over mine, Richard sighs my name. “Cassandra.” I hear a quiver in his voice, like saying my name caused him pain.

  Lifting my eyes to regard him, I examine his face. “What is it?”

  A sad smile forms on his features. “You know. This is really your conversation anyway.”

  Swiveling in my chair to face him, I raise my eyebrow in question. “Oh? My conversation? That’s strange, because I don’t recall having a conversation planned for tonight other than the typical back-and-forth banter between two people in an intimate relationship.”