by Brittany Bly
Fox’s answering meow is response enough. Holding him up, I look into his eyes, “I missed you too. I’m going to put you down now so I can get situated.”
I gently place him on the floor and lug my suitcase to my room, pushing it into the corner. Fox jumps onto the couch, perching himself on the back of it. From there, he can see the entire house and there, in turn, see me wherever I go. I rub my temples as a faint pressure begins to build. Gradually, all day I’ve felt it and the underlying presence. I guess today, whether I like it or not, is going to be one of those days… or rather nights.
“You okay?” Marissa asks from her spot on the couch.
“Yeah, my head’s wanting to hurt,” I reply pinching the bridge of my nose.
“When was the last time you ate?” she asks.
I can see the mother hen beginning to emerge, so I gently shake my head “Not long ago, I ate on the plane.” Marissa doesn’t reply, but her pursed lips give away exactly how she feels. “Hey, I hate to be a killjoy, but I think I’m going to take something and go to bed.”
“Okay, do you need anything?” she asks worriedly.
“No, but thank you for coming to get me.”
“No problem, dear” she hugs me before heading toward the door “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will” I respond walking with her. I close the door behind her and lock it before trudging to the bathroom. I have to dig through the cabinet before I finally find something. I toss it back with some water. The pressure’s building and the only thing I want to do is crawl in the bed and bury myself beneath the blankets.
Chapter Twenty-Five
My throbbing temples wake me.
I’m in a cocoon of blankets nestled deep within; and an all too familiar feeling of wetness between my legs jolts me completely awake. I should’ve known it was getting close; but with all the excitement of last week, it just wasn’t on my radar. Groaning, I throw the blankets off my body and sit on the edge of the bed. I sit up much faster than intended and pay the price as my head spins. I try to slow the spinning and calm the beating drums by cradling it in my hands. I manage to get to my feet and slowly make my way to the bathroom after a few minutes. But standing only intensifies the pressure. When I reach the toilet, I hang my head once more, resting it in my hands as I relieve my bladder.
My period isn’t within the category of normal – along with the things associated with it. Vice-like cramps and migraines from hell accompany the usual. I understand not everyone experiences the same as I do… I’m one of the lucky ones. When I see the tampon commercials of the girls laughing and jumping up and down, I just want to throat punch every one of them.
So, I manage the best I can; but for a week out of every month, I’m basically useless. You would think there would be some type of sympathy for women, but we are still expected to do what everyone else does and go about our daily lives.
I discard my ruined panties. A shower is the only option for getting clean and erasing what looks like a murder scene. The warm water does little to soothe my aching body. I towel off and throw on my most comfortable pair of pajamas and drag myself into the kitchen for a glass of water. I tip my head back and down it. The weight of my body causes me to have to drag myself throughout the house. I strip the bed and take the now red sheets to the washer. I turn it on and once again make myself walk back to bed, one step at a time, grabbing the flannel blanket from the back of the couch as I go. I wrap myself up and crawl onto the bare mattress, and that is where I remain for the next several hours.
×××
The pounding hasn’t subsided, but this time it takes on a different sound – almost like it’s in the room and not just in my head. It’s as Fox begins meowing that I realize someone is knocking at my door. Groaning, I roll over covering my head with the blanket. But the knocking doesn’t stop, causing all the sound to vibrate around in my head.
“Go away!” I shout as much as I can muster. But they do the opposite – knocking again. After what feels like the hundredth time, a muffled voice comes through the door. I barely make out Blaine’s familiar voice before he knocks once more. Obviously, he isn’t going anywhere, so I shout, “Keys stuck in the blue plant!” and I leave it at that. If he doesn’t find it, tough, I’m not doing anymore.
Soon I hear the key being placed in the lock and the tumblers turning. The door cracks open as Blaine peeks in “Scully?”
“In here,” I groan. I assume he follows my voice because he soon stands at the edge of my bed.
“Jesus, Scully, you look awful.”
“Aww, you’re too sweet,” my face scrunches up, but I’m still unable to open my eyes.
“No, really, are you okay?” his voice sounds genuinely worried.
“I’m going to go with no,” I say, bringing my knees closer to my chest.
“We need to get you to the hospital,” he says his voice taking on a harder quality.
“Don’t be fussy. I’ll be fine,” I say dismissively. I have no intentions of leaving this bed.
Reaching down, he rests his hand on my forehead, pulling back, “You are burning up. This isn’t up for discussion. We’re going to the hospital.”
“What…” my words are cut off as he scoops me up and carries me toward the door. My head is too heavy to hold up, so I lay against his chest and say, “I have my period, Blaine. I don’t think the hospital can do anything about that.”
Blaine stops midstep cradling me close to his chest “You have your period?”
We lived together for years, so he understood the magnitude that information meant for me. But I know why that hadn’t been the first thing that came to mind considering it had been years since we’d been together; and plus, with him being a man he, of course, doesn’t have to deal with such things.
“Damn, Lila,” he says, turning around and carrying me back to bed. “Where are your sheets?” he asks, laying me back on top of my mattress.
“In the washer,” I mumble.
“Why are they in the washer?” he grumbles, placing a hand back on to my forehead.
“Well, when a woman has her visit from Aunt Flo, certain things happen and blood…”
Blaine cuts me off, “Okay, okay, I get it.”
I begin to doze off, but I hear him walking away along with some banging and the dryer turning on. A hand brushes across my forehead “I’ll be back,” and with that, I fade out of consciousness.
Chapter Twenty-Six
A soft purring vibrates my cheek, rousing me from sleep. My limbs feel heavy, but not quite like they did. Slowly, I test them out, raising one arm then the other. I peek my eyes open, having to blink several times before I can fully focus from the dryness. The room is dim. The purring continues. Gradually, I turn my head to find a sleeping Fox nestled close beside me. With some difficulty, I raise my arm, running my hand along his head, “Hey, sir,” I speak out loud, my voice sounding like a frog. Amber eyes spring open and stare back at me. He meows and scoots closer to me – if that’s even possible.
“He hasn’t left your side since you fell back asleep.”
My eyes roam the room looking for the source of the voice. Seated in the corner Blaine is in my armchair his long legs stretched over the side. I don’t remember how he got here. He’d been in my dreams, but lately, that wasn’t really a surprise.
“What are you doing here?” I ask genuinely confused as to how and when he came by.
“You don’t remember?” Blaine asks, but I guess judging by my expression he shakes his head mumbling, “Of course you don’t… and yet you were fine.”
“Are you going to explain or are you just going to mumble to yourself.”
“I stopped by yesterday. When I knocked and got no response, I was about to leave, but then I heard you… but you didn’t sound right. You eventually yelled where the key was, which isn’t safe by the way. Anyway, when I came in, you were bundled up in a small blanket, and your sheets were gone.”
Memories flash through my mind, matching what he’s telling me. But strangely, it’s like watching a movie – as if I wasn’t present.
“I was about to scoop you up and take you to the hospital… but then you told me… it was your time of the month. I forgot how ill you can be during that time.”
Standing, Blaine lifts his arms over his head, arching his back in the process. He stretches his lean muscled body, releasing the tightness from sleeping in the chair. He walks into the kitchen, grabbing a few grocery bags and places them in front of me. “I didn’t know exactly what you would need, but I tried to get everything I could think of.”
I don’t go for the bags immediately. I just look at Blaine unsure of what to say… or do. I feel as if something is wrong with me; the first thing that crosses my mind is what are his motives for being helpful. But then guilt comes to the surface.
It isn’t like Blaine was always the evil villain in my story; and he is the one person around me who understands what this one week out of every month means for me. Escaping my own thoughts, I reach for the bags. The plastic crinkling as I pull the sides apart. Inside, there are three boxes of tampons – each one a different absorption, two packs of pads, a heating pad, three different kinds of chocolate, a box of cupcakes, ibuprofen, and wet wipes. My mouth hangs open as I look at all the things laid out on my bed.
Gradually, I look up at Blaine, who scratches his head “I tried to remember what you used to need… then I threw some other things in there too.”
“Thank you,” I say and mean it. I’d been ill-prepared, and that’s my fault, “I think you covered all areas.” For the first time since opening my eyes, I realize my bladder is on the verge of bursting “Eh, again, thanks and all, but I have to go to the bathroom now so…”
“Okay, go take care of that, and I’ll get you something to eat. Do you feel like anything particular?” Walking over, he leans down, placing his hand on my forehead “Your fever has dropped. That’s a good sign.”
I can only stare at this beautiful man willing to take care of me as if nothing else matters. It isn’t long before reality sets in, and I lean away from his touch “You don’t have to stay here. At this point, I can take care of myself.”
“Well, you aren’t going to, so, again what would you like to eat?” Blaine responds straightening and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Blaine, seriously you have no obligation here.”
His green eyes flash with anger “Who said anything about fucking obligation? You’re sick. I’m not leaving you here to try and fend for yourself. So, for the last time, what do you want to eat?” the last of his words come through gritted teeth.
“Soup, please.”
He walks toward the living room saying over his shoulder, “Soup, it is.”
“Your bedside manner could use some work,” I shout after him as I push myself up from the bed and move as fast as I can to the bathroom.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Blaine has taken on the role of caregiver and refuses to let me lift a finger. Even though as the days pass, I begin to feel more like myself. The only aspect that he relented on was sleeping on the couch instead of the armchair.
I no longer feel like I have to drag myself out of bed, and the weight of my limbs has returned to normal. I quietly walk to the kitchen, passing a sleeping Blaine on the couch. As silently as I can, I start a pot of coffee. Its gurgling is the only sound in the house. I turn to head toward the bathroom while I wait for the brown goodness to be ready. I quickly shower, throw on some pajamas, and pull my hair into a bun. The smell of coffee fills the house. I make my way to the kitchen, my steps slow as I pass the couch.
Blaine’s hair drapes across his closed eyes. His lips are parted slightly allowing his soft snores to escape past the piece of metal snuggly fitting around his bottom lip. He looks peaceful, all the usual worry and pain that line his face are gone. In the past, when I would wake up beside him, I would find myself staring at him while he slept. I wouldn’t gawk for long, because even before, I thought it was creepy that I did, but I couldn’t help tracing the lines of his face – following his strong jawline up to his full lips and upward to his straight nose and eyes. There’s no denying how gorgeous he is.
“Mm, that coffee smells good,” Blaine’s sleep filled voice says.
Jumping, I hurry away from the back of the couch and into the kitchen. Reaching up, I grab a mug, “Would you like a cup?” I ask, trying to control my voice and my racing heart.
“Yes, indeed,” he replies, stretching his long body like a cat over each end of the couch. His shirt rides up, revealing his toned abs below, and my mouth goes dry. The mug slides from my hands clattering to the floor. I feel my face heat, and I quickly bend to pick it up, trying to hide my shame. Blaine rushes over, coming up behind me, “Woah, you okay?”
I stay crouched down for a minute, trying to wish the blush back to wherever it came from. Taking hold of the mug, I release a shaky breath and stand “Eh yeah, my hands must have been wet from my shower.” My back brushes against his chest and I shudder at the contact. Damn these crazy hormones! Pouring two cups of coffee, I steady my shaking hands before handing it to him, “Here you go.”
“Thank you, what would you like for breakfast?” Blaine says his breath caresses my neck.
“I can… make… something” I stutter taking a step toward the fridge.
“I’ll do it. Go sit on the couch and get the last season of the X-Files ready,” he says, gently pushing me out of the kitchen.
“I can make breakfast,” I say, placing my hands on my hips trying to stand my ground. He’s been cooking for me for days now, and I’m not useless.
“Go,” he says his green eyes cutting in my direction.
Huffing, I pad over to the couch with my coffee curling my legs under myself I blow on the steaming liquid before taking a sip. Fox soon joins me, crawling in the hole my legs created. I stroke his back as he nuzzles my leg with his head. He gets clingy when he senses that I’m not well. Not that I mind, I’m one of those people that want to cuddle when I don’t feel well, and I would rather cuddle him than be tempted to with the other person in the house. Lost in my own thoughts, I don’t notice Blaine until he’s right in front of me holding a plate of French toast out for me to take. He makes the best breakfast, my mouth starts watering just thinking about it. Taking it, I waste no time digging in. I’m unable to stop the moans that come from deep in the throat. The syrup mixed with the cinnamon and whatever else he puts in it sends my taste buds into a frenzy. “This is delicious” I mumble through a mouthful.
“The way you’re moaning, it sounds almost better than sex,” Blaine says grinning at me over his mug.
“It is, well depending on who you're with, that is” I reply stuffing another oversized bite into my mouth.
“I’ve heard those moans and much more,” he says his tone turning husky.
My core tightens in response. I know very well what he once elicited from my body; and it had been a long time since I felt anything close. My body might not have this response if I didn’t deprive it. Hell, who am I trying to kid?
It would.
Swallowing, I reach for the remote and press play. Blaine chuckles but doesn’t say anything else.
Hours pass, Blaine making lunch and supper in between the time, but we finish all ten episodes of the final season. I wipe the tears away and try to hide my face from him. Damn hormones, well that’s what I’m blaming it on anyway. Despite all the time I’ve slept the last couple of days, my eyes begin to droop. “I think I’m going to call it a night. Thank you for taking care of me” I say hesitantly turning to look at him.
“You’re welcome. Go ahead, and I’ll clean up,” Blaine replies, standing he reaches a hand out to help me up.
I stare at his outstretched hand. Feelings that I long pushed down, now swirling freely inside. I flick my eyes up to his “Blaine, why did you stop by the o
ther day?”
His eyes locked on mine, he stares back at me – or almost past me, into my soul, “I told you I would see you when you got back.” For a minute, he doesn’t say any more, like that was enough… but then a piece of truth come out or in a sense a leap of faith “As soon as I got back into town, the only thing I wanted to do was to see you.”
I reach out and take his hand, he helps me to my feet. Chest to chest, my breathing turns shallow as electricity flows through me… us. Blaine gently takes hold of my cheek, guiding my face toward his. My eyes lock with his once more before they wander, taking in the rest of his handsome face. Without thinking, my shaking hand brushes against the stubble that has grown in during his time here… until I am holding his cheek just as he is mine. He begins to lower his face closer to mine. His eyes locked on my lips while mine is flicking between his eyes and mouth. We are a breath from each other, both breathing heavy, and pressed together when my inner bitch rears her ugly head and I pull away. Breathing heavily, I say “Thank you, Blaine, but I think I’ve got it from here” turning I walk to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
After a few more days and plenty of fluids, I’m back to being a functioning human. Dressed in a black leather dress with heels to match, I swagger into the club Marissa gave me specific orders to meet her at. The place is thrumming with energy. I scan the area, even having to stand on my tiptoes at times with how packed the place is. No sign of her. The bartender comes over, and I order a whiskey sour, no sense in being thirsty while I search taking a sip I turn back toward the crowd of people.
“Lila, babe!” a booming voice shouts somewhere within the mob.
There’s no indication of where it came from; so, I ignore it and prop against the bar, sipping on my drink. Suddenly, the crowd parts; and barreling toward me is Cohen. I have no time to register my surprise when without warning, he picks me up squeezing tightly “Girl, where have you been hiding?”