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“Suggestions.” I hiccup.
Bex looks over to Alvie, who’s joined us on the couch and is sitting on my other side. He doesn’t touch me, but even his presence at my back is reassuring.
“I think you need sleep first,” he offers. “More water. Then I think you need to talk to someone.”
I let us sit in silence, but he breaks it. “A professional, bunny.”
More tears leak out. “I am the professional, Alvie. I shouldn’t need help.”
“Everyone needs help, Nay,” Bex says.
“I don’t,” I reply stubbornly.
“Okay. Okay. Let’s get some sleep. I think we all need it,” Alvie soothes. “We’re supposed to have some friends come over to dinner tonight. Do you think you’ll be up for that?”
“It might be a nice distraction,” Bex suggests. “And they’re chill. You don’t need to perform for them. We’re just grilling on the porch and drinking wine.”
“Yeah, that sounds like it could be nice,” I agree.
Alvie is the first to stand, and he pulls me up and into his arms for a hug.
“It’s going to be alright, bunny,” he affirms as Bex closes in behind me, giving me neck kisses that make me shiver.
When we all pull apart to go to bed, I’m feeling a little lighter but exhaustion kicks in.
Settling into the center of their massive bed immediately has my eyes fluttering closed. Other than the shifting of the mattress, I don’t even notice the couple folding me between them until Bex’s head is on my chest and Alvie’s hand is holding mine.
My mind settles as their comforting presence envelops me, and I settle into a deep slumber.
Iwake up alone in the bed. Glancing at the clock, I see I've clearly slept the day away. I hear noise and voices coming from down the hall. Music is playing from somewhere in the house and has me pulling myself up.
Someone set out towels for a shower.
I take them and go into the bathroom to rinse off the stress of the night and the sleep in my eyes.
Coming out of the shower, I feel better, but my exhaustion isn't quite gone. Back in the bedroom, I settle in on the bench before the vanity and just stare into the mirror.
I don't know how much time passes as I sit there, staring at my sallow complexion and the dark circles under my eyes.
"Bunny." Alvie's voice comes from the doorway, and I finally focus my eyes on him in the mirror. "You need help."
I freeze, hoping we aren’t about to repeat this morning’s conversation, but when I realize he’s motioning to my damp, unkempt hair, I nod in appreciation.
He grabs the hairdryer that's been sitting in front of me along with a round brush and, without a word, starts drying my hair. The ritual is calming, causing my eyes to flutter closed. I relax into the feeling of warm air as it blows through my strands of hair and onto my scalp.
When Alvie turns off the dryer, I open my eyes to find that he's curled my hair with the round brush and given me soft waves that frame my face.
"Before Mamá passed, she would have me style her hair every week for church." He smiles at the memory. "I got pretty good. I do my nieces’ hair when I see them too. They're out of their pigtails and braids phase now, but they love having me curl their hair and feeling like grown-ups."
I smile for the first time in what feels like forever and his own widens.
"I like seeing you happy."
The phrase is so simple, but it shakes me to my core.
"Thank you."
"You’re welcome . . . for the blowout. But don't ever thank me for treating you as you deserve." He tucks strands of hair behind my ear. "Let's get you dressed. Our friends will be here in a bit for dinner."
