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She sighs; my pain is her pain too. “I think you have to put yourself in his shoes. This is all incredibly new for him. You may remember, but he doesn’t. Be patient. You know he’d do the same for you.”
She’s right.
“Do you want me to come over?”
“No, Mom, I’m okay. I think I’m just going to take a nap.”
“Okay, honey. You call whenever you need us. Someday, you’re going to look back and understand the reason why this happened. I love you.”
As I snuggle under the blankets and welcome sleep, I hope that “someday” comes soon.
* * * * *
When I wake, I know I’ve slept the day away. It’s now dark out and I feel even worse than when I cried myself to sleep.
I know I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but when will this end? It’s only day two of Sam being home. How am I going to survive two more?
Rising slowly, I brush the matted hair from my eyes, looking around my deserted room. A room which once shared many happy memories is now filled with loneliness and despair. I suddenly have a desperate urge to move into the guest bedroom, but that won’t happen, seeing as Saxon is in the room that has a bed.
Thoughts of Saxon have me remembering my weird reaction toward him. Each moment spent with him, I’m beginning to see him as just Saxon, not Saxon, Sam’s identical twin. He’s becoming his own person and I’m afraid of how much I’m coming to rely on that being.
Kicking off the blanket, I take the plunge and swing my legs, placing my feet onto the cool floor. As I stand, my whining muscles scream in protest. I stretch overhead and crack my neck from side to side. The house is deadly quiet and I figure everyone is either asleep or out.
Reaching for my favorite yellow knitted pullover, I slip it on and decide to face the world and whoever is awake in it. My bare feet scuff over the floorboards as I amble down the hallway, in no real hurry to get to anywhere fast. The mouth-watering smells of chili con carne and refried beans linger in the air as I enter the kitchen, sending my sudden ravenous stomach into a frenzy.
Opening up the refrigerator, I see that Saxon made his Mexican feast after all. Too bad I was passed out and couldn’t enjoy it. The depressing thought makes me shut the door and have a glass of water instead.
Something shiny catches the iridescent moonlight as I stand in front of the window, downing my water. As I peer closer, a sense of relief surrounds me because I see that my Jeep is parked down the driveway. I know this was Saxon’s doing. Unlatching the backdoor, I step out onto the porch, drawing down the long sleeves of my pullover over my hands. There is a certain chill to the air, but that could just be my mood.
“Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Sweet mother of Jesus!” I yelp, clutching a hand to my racing heart as I whip my head to the right. Saxon is sitting in a rocking chair, puffing away on a smoke.
“Sorry.” He smirks. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine,” I reply, still trying to catch my breath. When I think I can speak without wheezing, I ask, “Where’s everyone?”
“You just missed Piper, and the last I saw, Sam was chopping wood.” I cock an eyebrow, but he shakes his head and shrugs.
I exhale loudly and slump down into the chair next to him. “Any luck breaking through those walls?” My tone is mocking.
“Nope.” He pops the P. “Those walls are as hard as Sam’s head. That doctor is crazy if she thinks I have any hope helping Sam.”
Deciding to forget about Sam for the moment, I nudge him with my elbow playfully. “That doctor is sweet on you.”
“What?” he replies. I can’t decide if his expression is horror or disgust.
“Sophia’s got a thing for you. Please don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?” When he sits blankly, scratching his temple, I know the answer is no, he hasn’t noticed. “Are you blind?” I scoff. “She’s been making googly eyes at you since the first moment she met you.”
“Googly eyes?” he questions, scrunching up his face. “Is that chick codeword for something, because I have no idea what that means?” He takes a long drag of his cigarette.
I can’t help but laugh at Saxon’s adorability. “She’s been checking you out, or in guy codeword, she’s been eye…fucking you.”
His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and I follow the movement, intrigued. “She’s okay, I suppose.”
“You suppose?” I chuckle, sitting higher in my chair. “She’s freaking gorgeous.” He shrugs, appearing unaffected.
Maybe I’ve misread the signs? But I’m sure there was chemistry there. There definitely was on her behalf. But by how unmoved Saxon currently is, maybe it’s a one-way street? The thought makes me snicker, and I don’t know why.
