A few minutes later, Sara started stuffing pillows around herself, and when she finally settled, I smiled to myself, knowing she was the tiniest bit closer. Her head wasalmostresting in the crook of my arm, where it draped over the back of the couch, and I didn’t mind one bit.
Throughout the entire movie, we awkwardly tried to ignore the moans that carried down the hallway, some louder than others—until a muffled scream from Gina cut through the chorus of thumping.
“Oh my God! I’m about to stab a Q-tip into my ear, so I never have to hear them again.” Sara groaned, “She’s gotta be faking that, right—I’ve never heard someone sound like that in my life.”
I opened my mouth, and then immediately shut it—nope, not even remotely appropriate.“Probably.” I muttered, trying to ignore what she’d just unknowingly admitted to me.Motherfucker.
Eventually, the banging down the hallway quieted, and as I watched Sara out of the corner of my eye—she got sleepier andsleepier, until her head finally did tip onto my shoulder, making me hyper-aware of every point of contact. I sighed contentedly, relishing in the feeling, and while I didn’t dare move, I was watching the hallway like a hawk,just in case.
When the credits started rolling and Sara still hadn’t moved, my heart thundered in my chest, wondering what to do. Should I wake her up? Carry her to bed? Sleep right here, sitting up, so I didn’t disturb her, while she got the rest it looked like she so desperately needed? I was not about to ruin possibly the best moment of my life.
Her wine glass made the decision for me—it was still in her hand and barely upright, threatening to make a mess at any second, as it tipped little by little, getting alarmingly close to spilling.
As I reached for it, she made a tiny noise, and her fingers tightened around the glass just before I could grab it.
Her eyes fluttered open. “What time is it?”
“Late.” I murmured.
She pushed up to stand, but when she stumbled, I shot up—hands instinctively going to her waist as she swayed. “You good?” I swallowed hard because she feltso impossibly frail beneath my grip.
“Mhmm,” she clutched the wineglass, and my heart sank.
I swallowed hard, trying my best to sound casual. “You want me to finish that for you?”
“Helps me sleep.” She said, tucking the glass into her shoulder before heading towards her bedroom. Her hand trailed along the wall for stability. “Night.” She called.
“Sweet dreams.” I sighed, and let my head drop back onto the couch.
I had to dosomething.
It was party day, and I was standing at the stovetop making eggs, panicking about the fact that Sara hadn’t even bothered to open the candy I’d brought her when she strolled into the kitchen.
She offered me a small smile as she turned the electric teakettle on.
“Can I make you some eggs?”
“No thanks.” She didn’t look at me as she started digging through the loose-leaf tea drawer, and my chest tightened.
Frick.I stared into the pan, treading very carefully. “I make a mean blueberry oatmeal, what about that?”
She shook her head, and my shoulders sagged as I stared at my eggs, suddenly not feeling very hungry myself.
“What about a walk after breakfast?”
“A walk?”
“Yeah, just a short one.” I shrugged. “Might be nice to get some fresh air.”
“I don’t think so.” She immediately shot me down.
“Come on.” I stared into the pan, frantically trying to salvage my idea. “We could go look at the puppies. It’s only a couple blocks away.” I snuck a glance as her mouth twisted, getting ready to say no. “I’ll even carry you if you get tired.” I offered.
“I don’t know.” She clutched an empty mug, deciding.
“Please?” I stuck out my lower lip, switching tactics—making it about me. “Ireallywanted to see the puppies.”
“Alright.” She folded almost instantly, and I grinned, grateful my new strategy worked, but heartbroken all the same. She’d do it for me, apparently, but not for herself. My sweet, sweet girl. She needed to find some strength to take care of herself, otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to do it for anyone else. I wondered if she knew that.
