"Of course I will," I say, brushing her hair out of her face. "Is that all? I thought you were going to ask me to commit a war crime or something."
"No, I would definitely ask Ellie if that's what it was," she chuckles feebly. "Are you sure? That isn't too weird?"
"There's nothing you could ask me that I wouldn't do for you," I say. "Including war crimes. Washing your hair is nothing."
"I would never ask you to commit a crime, Jacky boy, you're too pure," she says, leaning her forehead against my chest.
"And you don't have to dig a bathing suit out if you don't want to," I add, albeit hesitantly. "Do whatever is going to make you most comfortable, don't make more work for yourself."
"I promise I'll add so many bubbles, you'll barely be able to find me," she says, looking up at me. "I'll do my best not to scandalize you."
I take deep breaths, pacing nervously outside of the bathroom while the water runs, trying not to think about the fact that a very naked Abby is on the other side.
Get your shit together. Don't be weird. It'll be like in the hospital, just focus on her face, you won't even notice the rest.
"Come in, Jack Robbit," she calls, and I open the door slowly.
"Don't call me th—" I start, but my jaw drops at the state of the bathroom. There are bubbleseverywhere.And I really mean everywhere.
"How did you get bubbles in the toilet?" I ask, flushing the suds down the pipe.
"I had to scoop out a place for my head," she says sheepishly, her head resting on an inflatable bath pillow attached to the end of the clawfoot tub. "I went a little overboard."
"You think so?"
"You better be careful or you'll be getting a handful of bubbles up your nose," she threatens.
"Shh, no need for all that," I say soothingly, kneeling on the black and white honeycomb tile and folding my arms on the edge of the porcelain. "How do you want to do this?"
"My stuff is on the sink," she says, pointing a bubble covered hand to the shampoo and conditioner bottles. "And I brought in a cup for the water. Your number one job is tonotget soap in my eyes."
"Wouldn't dream of it," I promise. "Just tilt your head back, I'll take care of you."
"It seems like that's all you do these days," she says quietly. "This isn't your job, you know. You can leave anytime you want. When I asked you to come to the hospital, I didn't mean to make you feel like you needed to come back here full time again."
"First of all, you didn't make me do anything," I argue, filling the cup with the warm water and pouring it over her head, holding my hand to her hairline to shield her face. "Second, I'm not going anywhere."
"Are you sure? You're not obligated to help with everything just because you helped with on—"
"Hey, Abby?"
"Yeah?" she asks, tilting her head back and looking at me upside down.
"Stop talking," I say, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She grins, then tilts her head back down and closes her eyes. I finish wetting her hair, then work the shampoo in, massaging her scalp in small circles until it lathers up.
"Mmmm, that feels nice," she hums. "Please don't stop."
My cheeks flush, and no matter how hard I try, I can't pretend there's not a very different context in which I might enjoy those words.
I continue on, following her instructions carefully as I use a wide-tooth comb to distribute the conditioner evenly through her curls. I think back to lamaze class, another instance of something incredibly intimate that I should not be here for. But just like then, I can't help but feel like this is actuallyexactlywhere I should be.
After rinsing it out, she tells me the rest of the hair routine is too complicated for boys and relieves me of hair-care duty. I sit on the edge of the bed and wait, listening for any signs of additional help being needed, but all I hear is Abby chattering away to herself, narrating the rest of her routine out loud.
I smile to myself, so hard my cheeks hurt. I missed that sound—I was only out of the house for a little over a week, but those nights alone in my apartment were the loudest silences I've ever heard. I don't want to ever think about going back to a life where Abby isn't the soundtrack.
You'll have to eventually.
