As soon as I get home, I beeline for our room and find Kendall in bed. She’s asleep, and I don’t want to wake her, so I move quietly to close the door, but she stirs.
“James?”
“Yeah,” I answer hesitantly. My hand is still on the doorknob, and I watch her lift her head, her weight on her elbow. Strands of her hair fall across her temple and cheeks, and the collar of her sweater slips past her shoulder. Aside from a single strap from the top she’s wearing, it’s bare. I have an impulse to pull her sweater to cover her up and keep her warm.
“What are you doing here?”
“I just came to check on you.”
“You left work?”
I nod. I close the space between us, perching myself at the edge of the bed. She smooths her hand over her head, pushing her hair back out of her face. Her eyes are puffy, and I can see the paleness in her complexion run down her neck, but she still somehow manages to look beautiful. Her brown eyes shimmer underneath her hooded lids, and a hint of a smile lazes her body back into the mattress.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know,” I tell her. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
She lazily reaches for my arm. Something I think she does out of muscle memory, not something she necessarily intends to do. I reciprocate, stroking a hand down the side of her head, tucking away the few strands she missed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I don’t ask what she means or say that an apology isn’t even necessary. Because we’ve gotten to the point where we fill in the blanks with unspoken words and hope.
“Did you want something to eat?” I ask. I hover closer, feeling her warmth radiate off her.
She shakes her head. “I just want to get some rest.”
“Okay,” I tell her, trailing another slow, soothing stroke down to her cheek. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
She tugs at my hand. Another involuntary move, one that has me stopping in my tracks. “Sorry,” she says, as if she’s unsure why she reached for me in the first place. She covers her still bare shoulder with the blanket, hiding her face behind it as well, almost as if she’s embarrassed for acting so impulsively.
“Do you want me to stay?” It’s something I would’ve offered in the past as a way to comfort her. Usually through an embrace like spooning her from behind while we both crawl under the covers. I’ve done it, and she’s done it too. When either one of us is feeling a bit under the weather. Like an effusive bottle of coldmedicine we each take in heaps. And for some reason, it’s always more effective than anything that comes in a tiny medicine cup, bitter taste and all.
“It’s okay,” she assuages. “I’ll be fine.”
“I can stay,” I tell her. It’s firm and resolute, and I leave little room for doubt by lying next to her over the covers. I don’t slip inside. Instead, I let her warm skin heat mine through a protective layer neither one of us is willing to give up. I keep a barrier between us, the last bits of the wall we’ve unwillingly built, to let her know I pose no threat. I don’t want to push her boundaries. I’m taking what I can get.
She scoots back to the middle of the bed, and we’re left facing each other. I use my arm as a pillow, watching her as my curative qualities seep into her tired body.
“You should probably eat something.” I fist my hand at my side. I’ve been touching her too much since I walked into the room, a habit we’ve slowly grown out of, and I stop while I’m ahead.
She nods. “The doctor said the same thing.”
“I’ll make you something,” I offer.
“It’s okay. I’ll get up to make something in a minute.” She sinks lower into the comforter. Her eyes grow heavy, and they flutter as she breathes a soft sigh. After a pause, she says, “Remember when Sophia was sick right before Thanksgiving?”
“When all she could keep down was Gatorade and popsicles?”
Her smile spreads wider. “All she wanted was ‘more Mommy and Daddy cuddles.’”
I remember it. It was when I realized all the remedies Kendall and I held through our hugs and kisses worked on Sophia too. She was fully recovered for Thanksgiving dinner, ready for turkey legs and pumpkin pie.
“Remember our first Thanksgiving? When we were first dating?”
She nods. It’s followed by a laugh. “Oh my god. I was so nervous.”
“My parents were so excited to finally meet you.” It was a time when our relationship felt so new and invincible yet vulnerable in a good way. Where the unknown felt exciting instead of scary. She was under the weather then too, but for different reasons.
