Page 72 of Midlife Crisis

“I just need some acetaminophen or something,” she groans, but a half-hour after we get back to the shop, she squeezes at her temples as she sits at her desk.

“Why don’t you go home?” I offer.

“Brut will hate me. I already took time this morning. It’ll pass in a little bit.” She sits up, but the strain on her face hints at the pain.

Sometime after noon, I demand she take a break. The computer has to be adding to the ache.

“Lie down for a bit in the office. I promise no one will disturb you.”

“Maybe I should just go home?” Even her voice sounds stressed.

“Can you drive?” I don’t trust her nod. She doesn’t look well. Stepping forward, I lead her to the office.

“Just an hour. I’ll feel better in a bit.” I don’t know why she’s trying to quantify the time. If she hurts, she hurts. I spread a blanket over the couch and help her to her side. She curls into herself, clenching at her head. It pains me to watch her, so I kiss her hair and head to the shower. I’ll have work to make up, but right now, I need to be close to my lady.

31

It’s just science

[Midge]

I drift but don’t sleep. Drills zoom in the background. I think I hear water running. I will myself to melt into the couch. Not certain how much time passes, I sense someone before me. Fingers brush over my hair, and I know from the touch it’s Hank.

The cushions at my back are removed, but I don’t question anything. My head is killing me, like a vise wanting to squeeze my brains out. The pain above my left eye is severe enough I can’t open it even though the lights are off in the office and the blinds on the windows have been pulled. Gentle hands shift me, and Hank lies beside me. I can’t even muster the energy to ask what he’s doing.

“Lift,” he commands softly, and I pick up my head, my eyes opening in a fog. He presses my head back down against his bent arm. His other hand comes to my head, massaging light circles at my temples with a tender thumb.

“That feels nice,” I mutter although I’m not certain I speak. A light kiss on my forehead rewards me, and I realize the words left my mouth.

“I hate seeing you like this, little lady.” His typically rough voice sounds deeper, the concern a warm bath enveloping me. We stay quiet a moment as he works his magic with his fingers on my head.

“Were you like this with her?” The question isn’t angry or sharp or sarcastic. I’m curious as I recall him brushing and braiding my hair. I’d like to think I’m not a jealous woman, but I realize I am in regards to Kit Carrigan.

“Like what?” He stiffens beside me.

“Intimate.” His body relaxes.

“Isn’t that a fancy word for sex?” He chuckles softly.

“I didn’t think so. It means tender, close, connecting.”

“Then no. She didn’t suffer like this, but she would get stressed out. Sometimes, I needed to talk her down from the proverbial ledge. She was confident on stage but unsure off it.” There’s more he isn’t saying, and with the pain in my head, my heart can’t handle any more. He kisses me again, lingering at my hairline.

“Please, don’t think about her right now.” His voice cracks, and I shift against him. I nod but the movement pinches; however, his body heat seeps into me. He smells freshly showered and spicy. He cleaned up for me. My leg slips between his.

“Did you see Lawson?”

He chuckles in response. “Lady, quit worrying about everything. I’m going to see him tonight. I found a transition counselor, and she’s helping me figure out how best to enter Lawson’s life.” It must be so difficult. It’s not like someone said, surprise, I’m pregnant, and he has to learn to be a father from scratch. He’s starting at the top, when the child is an adult and has special needs in addition.

“That sounds like a good plan.” Another kiss meets my forehead while his thumb moves over my skin. We grow quiet a second.

“Intimate,” he repeats as if he’s been thinking about the word. “I like the sound of that.” I smile in response, because I don’t really want to talk anymore. Sensing this, he adds, “Rest, little lady. Let me hold you. Let me be here for you.”

The words remind me of our first meeting. Hank is here for me, and I walked away from him. I’m so confused, and it all adds to the pain in my head. Settling into the rhythm of his massage, I allow my body to relax, drifting deeper against him. It’s a weird state of consciousness, not being able to move, and right now, I don’t want to.

+ + +

There’s really no rest for a mother, so hours later, when I’m finally home, Liam springs on me. “I need to make a volcano.”