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8
BRAXTON
“What in the world is she doing?” Nick asked, standing by the glass wall. The suit wave had just ended, and we were setting up the panini station to get ready for the breakfast rush.
“She has to be a little, you know,” whistling, he pointed at his head, “out of it.”
“Why, because she called coffee thedrink of worshipor something like that?” Josh defended from the coffee station. “That sounds legit to me.”
“Enough,” I warned, placing the fresh lettuce in the ingredients bin. My gaze instinctively went through the glass and across the street, she was pushing shopping carts along the parking lot, and returning them to their correct spot.
“I didn’t mean it as an insult,” Nick explained. “I know mental illness is a serious thing, but the way she behaves, maybe she is—what do they call it?—Bipolar?”
“Listen, stop badmouthing our boy’s new girlfriend,” Josh scolded. “That’s not cool, man. Not cool.”
“She’snotmy girlfriend.”
“Whatever, I like her!” Josh swung an arm around my shoulder, glancing at her. “So, she’s a little...quirky. It’s endearing.”
“Quirky?” Nick challenged. “She called herself theleader of the Skyborne Clan.”
“Well, maybe she likes to roleplay. That’s not a crime.”
“She got mad because he offered her a free drink!”
“Well, she’s independent like Beyonce and shit. She doesn’t need no man to pay for her things.” Excitement suddenly glazed his eyes while Nick shook his head. “Ooh, maybe she does Cosplay too. That’s actually pretty sexy. Just imagine her dressed in that Princess Leia slave outfit or something. Dude.” His eyes widened even more, emphasizing how amazing that was.
“Stop,” I ordered, but now I was picturing her in the bikini outfit. Damn it.
“You are imagining her in it, aren’t you?” he asked, laughing when I made a face, and his fist punched my shoulder playfully.
A stabbing pain instantly rushed through my muscles, and I swallowed a groan. The tingling sensation of weakness reached my hand so I squeezed it, shaking my arm to help the feeling leave sooner.
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, dude. I totally forgot about your condition,” Josh offered, returning to my side. “Are your symptoms acting up or something?”
“Something like that, but It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s nothing,” I lied, returning to my duties and avoiding his gaze.
Last night after getting home from work, I had administered the medicine part of my treatment, but without the blood transfusion, it didn’t have the same effect. My limbs felt numb when I awoke this morning, and walking here had basically left me breathless. Now, I had what felt like electrical jolts in my arms and hands every so often.
The man at the blood bank hadn’t expected me to get so upset, but the truth of the matter was that without those transfusions, I had no clue of what would happen to me. I’d been receiving them since I was a child.
He had basically handed me a death sentence.
Walking past Josh, I headed for the register, helping the new customer that entered the coffee shop.
“All I’m saying is, all women are a little crazy.” Josh lifted his hands in surrender. “Now, I’m not judging or anything. It’s just who they are, and honestly, I love it. We might as well appreciate it and enjoy the wild ride.”
Winking, he returned to the coffee station to begin preparing the frappe order I had just taken while Nick and I chuckled, shaking our heads. Even the two women before me chuckled, though they were probably just flirting with Josh. Everyone flirted with Josh, he had one of those personalities.
“I’m serious!” he insisted, a warning look entering his eyes. “When Rebecca and I spend the day together and I forget to feed her on time, it's like she turns into Godzilla. Watch out!”
Laughter resounded around us, and I couldn’t help but join.
My gaze unconsciously went to the blonde across the street—Evanna, what an unusual and beautiful name. However, the more I looked at her, the more I realized that even with her somewhat irrational behavior, I got everything from her except crazy vibes. She wasn’t crazy. There was a determination and fire in her that was exciting. Yes, I could understand only about a quarter of whatever came out of her mouth, but honestly, she seemed more sane than I was right now.
Sighing, I grabbed some paper towels and the cleaner to wipe the counter, trying to keep my mind busy and away from what was happening to me. I still couldn’t believe that throughout the years, not once had I stopped to think that one day I would run out of blood. It was the damndest thing to forget, but I’d been receiving transfusions ever since I could remember, learning early enough what happened to my body when I couldn’t, or when I refused to do the treatments after one of my tantrums.
It was part of who I was, and when something became such a part of you, a routine, sometimes it was inevitable to forget what it took to make it happen. A stabbing pain suddenly rushed through my right arm, and the spray bottle fell from my hand—weakness affecting my grip. Closing my fist tightly, I waited for the sensation to leave me.
