She doesn’t answer. I turn to walk toward the living room and feel a tiny furry body rub against my ankle.
Cabby Cat purrs, and I bend down and pick her up. “Hey, Cabby,” I say, cradling her above my forearm. “Where’s our girl?”
Cabby meows at me, and I give her a scratch behind the ears as I continue my search for Paige.
When I turn into the living room, I find the TV on, playing a scene from Paige’s comfort movie,You’ve Got Mail. A box of tissues sits on the coffee table, and a thin blanket hangs haphazardly off the couch and onto the floor, but I don’t see Paige.
“Paige,” I call again. I wander down the hallway toward her room and see that the door to the hallway bathroom is slightly ajar and a pair of feet are poking out. Worry courses through me, and I quickly open the door all the way to find Paige curled up and sleeping next to the toilet.
Cabby Cat jumps out of my hands and nuzzles her face into Paige’s plush yellow robe. Aside from her robe, Paige’s green-striped PJ bottoms and old Pine Lakes High School T-shirt is all that cushion her from the tiled floor. She looks wildly uncomfortable.
I crouch down and brush a strand of brown hair off her cheek. For a moment, I feel like I’m looking at eighteen-year-old Paige. Her features are soft and unguarded. A shiver runs through her, and I can’t help but think that Paige would feel a lot better if she were someplace more comfortable.
“Paige,” I whisper, pushing gently on her shoulder to nudge her awake.
She moans, and her body rolls and faces the opposite direction, looking more uncomfortable than she did before.
After another unsuccessful attempt, I tuck one arm behind her head and the other under her legs and pick her up off the floor. Paige barely stirs in my arms, her eyes remaining closed.
Cabby Cat flees the bathroom and runs toward the living room, and I follow, laying Paige down on the couch. I pull the flimsy blue-and-gold Berkeley blanket off the last cushion and drape it across her, tucking her in like a child. But while theblanket covers most of her, her bare toes poke out the bottom. I am moving to turn off the TV so Paige can get some rest when I feel something tug the fabric of my pants leg.
“Jordan,” Paige says weakly, pulling at every single heartstring. Her eyes are still closed, and one of her hands has broken free from her blanket, barely grasping me.
I turn around and tuck her arm next to her, pulling the blanket over her arm once more. She grips the blanket and tugs it closer to her body.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, crouching down to her eye level.
“Cold.” Her eyes crack open, showing me a sliver of green. “Very cold.”
A visible tremor runs through her, and she pulls the thin blanket tighter.
“I’ll be right back.” I stride over to Paige’s room and grab her comforter and a pair of her favorite fuzzy socks that are folded in her laundry bin before returning to the living room.
In the short time I’ve been gone, Paige’s shivers have increased, and her teeth have started to chatter. I pull a sock over each of her ice-cold feet and wrap the comforter around her legs before drawing the blanket up to her chin.
“How’s your stomach? Do you feel like eating anything?”
“No food,” Paige moans as she curls into herself. “I’m so embarrassed.”
I almost chuckle. “Paige, it’s me. Why would you be embarrassed?”
“My hair is oily.” Her words slur together.
“I don’t care about what your hair looks like. I’m here to help you feel better. Whatever you need.”
“I know. You’re Jordan… I bet we’d be more than Pop-Its.” Her teeth begin to chatter again, and she pulls further into herself.
I suck in a breath and try not to laugh.Pop-Its?“Did Paige take medicine?”
“You bet. It was very grape.”
Ah, loopy Paige.
I start to stand up, planning to get her something to drink and a bowl just in case, when her hand reaches out, her fingers brushing against mine.
“Jordan,” she murmurs.
“Yeah?” I turn back to her.
