“What?! No!” First I had loud Skye, then laughing Skye, and now whiny Skye. This woman gives me whiplash.
“Sunny’s running a fever and Mom can’t find the ibuprofen.”
She drops the moping act, standing up straight and nodding her head once. “Gotcha. Ok, no prob.”Hello, responsible Skye.She turns to her man friend, blows him a kiss, wiggles her fingers goodbye, and starts pulling me through the crowd to the exit.
I stumble after her, thankful she’s holding onto me so I don’t faceplant from the shoes. “That was abrupt.”
She shrugs. “He was fun to dance with, but conversation was not his strong suit.”
“You expected to converse with him out there? Could you even hear each other over the music?”
“Oh yes. And rather than asking my name, he kept moaning and grunting into my ear every time I rubbed my ass against his crotch.”
“Ah, I see. Well at least you know he enjoyed himself.”
“If he didn’t, it’s only because I didn’t slide my hand into his pants and rub him off in the middle of the dance floor.”
“That’s disgusting,” I say, crinkling my face and shaking it side to side. “Dammit, Skye, now I can’t get that image out of my head.”
She laughs. “Stop being such a prude.”
We finally make it to the door, and just before stepping out, I turn to look over my shoulder toward the bar, hoping for one last glance at Dexter before I leave.
He’s there. Right where I left him. Elbow resting on the bar, eyes fixed on me, half smile firmly in place. Goodness gracious he’s beautiful.
Smiling, I turn back to Skye and follow her through the door and into the humid summer night.
I pull out my phone from my clutch and find more than my personally-sent text from Dexter.
Unknown Number: Not one word, not one gesture of yours should I, could I, ever forget.
TWO
9 years ago
I wakeup in the hospital chair the next morning at 7 a.m., just as my parents walk into the room. They don’t look much better than they had the night before, Mom’s eyes nearly swollen shut from crying.
My restless night hadn’t been much better. I woke with a knot in my neck, compliments of my pretzel-twisted sleeping position.
“Hey,” I croak.
“Morning.” Mom doesn’t sound rested. I wonder if she was able to sleep at all last night. She walks to Belle’s bed, brushing her matted hair aside and kissing her forehead.
“Has the doctor begun his rounds yet?” Dad leans out the door, looking side to side down the hallway.
“I’m not sure. I only just woke up when you walked through the door.”
“Right. Of course. I’ll check with the nurse’s station to see if they can give me a time frame on when we’ll see him.” Dad turns and walks into the fluorescent-lighted hallway in search of Belle’s nurse.
“How was she last night?” Her question is quiet, heavy withgrief. She never looks away from Belle’s sleeping face and continues to stroke her hair.
I stretch, trying but failing to loosen the twisted muscles in my body. “No change.” My yawn muffles my words. “I sat with her and talked to her for a bit, and then fell asleep in this chair.”
“I’m glad you got some rest.” Mom’s soft eyes are now fixed on me, a small smile on her lips. As soon as it appears her lips begin to tremble, tears filling her eyes. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to tell her Alex is gone.” She chokes on a sob, covering her mouth with her hand and closing her eyes to keep the tears at bay.
“I don’t know that she heard me, but I tried to tell her last night. I told her she won’t be alone, that we will be there for her and raise Sunny together.”
Mom cries quietly, her shoulders shaking as she nods her head in agreement.
