She grabs my phone from the charger on my nightstand and puts in my code that hasn’t changed in 15 years. She’s squinting at the screen, scrolling with her thumb.
“Dr. Dick,” I murmur, and she just shakes her head and smiles as she presses the screen then lifts my phone to her ear.
I pull my leg in and bend it over my good one then let my fingers press and push into the ball above my heel. It feels like I’m sticking my fingers into an open wound.
“Jeff, it’s Tara—yeah we are ok—sort of. No. We slept at Meredith’s. It’s Devon’s heel—she’s in pain and I’m not sure—ok.” She’s nodding, staring at me, her lips turned down. “Right. Ok. Thanks, Jeff.” She presses her thumb to the red circle and drops my phone on the crumpled sheets.
“He’s on his way,” she tells me, and I find myself surprised by the fact that I’m not surprised. I knew that he would come. Despite my mini-breakdown while breaking it down.
Tara gets down beside me. “He wants me to elevate your ankle and put ice on it. Do you need help getting back in bed?”
I shake my head and pull myself up on the nightstand putting my weight on my good foot then plop back into bed. The effort makes my head spin, but I’ve lost track of what’s messing me up. Tequila or the pain? Or Jeff.
Tara disappears to play nurse and I’m left with my fuzzy memories of last night. Jeff must think I’m a lunatic—crying like that on the dance floor. It’s almost been twenty years since my dad died. But somehow, sometimes, it feels like I’m still sitting at that table holding Tara’s little hand, watching my mother talk to the police beside the hostess stand at his favorite restaurant. A pain in my chest takes the attention away from my calf. I rub atmy face then catch sight of myself in the mirror hanging over the closet door. Yikes.
“Tara?” I yell.
I hear her footsteps hurrying back.
“Can you buy me makeup that looks like that—” I point to her face, “—the day after?”
“Jesus, Devon. I thought you were in pain,” she hisses then disappears from the doorway.
“I am in pain. I saw my reflection. It was very,verypainful,” I tell her. I’m gonna buy a silk pillowcase. That’ll do it. I slide my finger over the shiny pink covering of her pillow while I watch myself in the mirror, imagining that I’m soaking up the magic and my face will suddenly be less puffy and hungover.
Tara reappears with a bag of frozen peas and a bottle of water. She tosses me the water and grabs the magic pillow from my hand. She lifts my ankle and slides the pillow and the peas beneath my heel, then lowers my foot like it might break into a thousand pieces.
“Drink that,” she inclines her head toward the bottle, and I twist off the cap and obey. “Before he gets here, we need to talk.”
“I know. But brush my teeth for me while you talk.”
She rolls her eyes but scurries off to the bathroom and comes back with my toothbrush and a dixie cup. I press my teeth together and pull my lips back like a horse and she thrusts the items at me. I guess I’m brushing my teeth myself.
“Alright, tell me what’s going on,” she says.
Here we go. This is the first time Tara and I have been alone and sober since she broke her news. Did she see my heartbreak? Was I that transparent? She knows me well enough to understand that I would never want her to leave, but she’s studying me right now like I’m one of her sketches and I need adjustments.
“What’s going on with you and Jeff?” she asks.
The toothpaste goes down the wrong pipe and I sputter. Drool leaks out over my lip and drops onto my t-shirt. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and stare at her.
She lifts her brows and waits.
“Nothing!” My voice is too loud. Too squeaky. I spit out some toothpaste and try again. “Nothing is going on. He’s just a friend. Some doctor who made me into the punchline of a cosmic unfortunate coincidence.”
“You know thatI knowthat isn’t true. I saw the panic attack when he didn’t show up at the restaurant. And, unfortunately, I also saw the scene from dirty dancing at the club.”
Annoying, nosy-ass, know-it-all.
“You saw me reacting to the fact that my only sister is being swept away by Marcello the Italian pirate. That’s all you saw,” I lie.
There’s a knock on the door and Tara is still staring at me like she can see right through my dry, bloodshot eyes into my shriveled, slow-motion brain. She pushes her lips together and gives my leg a patronizing pat then stands to answer the door.
“You have toothpaste on your chin,” she says over her shoulder.
I let out a breath the second she leaves the room and I feel my heart fluttering in my chest. I look down to tell it to knock off its shit and realize I’m braless. My favorite shorts have tiny holes trailing up my inner thigh. I’m a god-damned mess—and not even a hot one. But there’s no reason to care. It’s just me and my annoyingly perfect little sister. And Jeff. Who just keeps getting to witness me at my best.
He appears in the opening to Meredith’s guest bedroom, a dark circle of sweat makes his tee shirt cling to his chest, like he’s been working out hard. Or running across town in this awful heat to assist a crazy woman. His eyes are so filled with concernthat I’m suffocated with that deep gut-wrenching empathy I feel when my students cry and need comforting.
