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“Youokay?”Iask.
Thedoor swings open. “I’llbe back,” she says without acknowledging my question.
* * *
RACHEL
Bythe timeImake it across the yard and into the house,I’msobbing.Everythingthat happened withEvanlast night has been sitting like a weight on my chest, butLukebeing sick has somehow made it worse, reminding me how muchIneed him too.EvanandIwere fooling ourselves if we thought what we had would last withoutLuke.
Itake out the cutting board and a knife, before grabbing five lemons.Icry so muchI’msure there will be tears in the lemonade.Ipromised myselfIwouldn’t go toLuketoday.Therewas no wayIcould stand being near him without telling him all that happened.Howcruel wouldIbe to rub it in his face thatEvanandIhad been carrying on without him?
Heknew.Iknow he has known the whole time, but crying to him when it’s over is just rubbing salt in the wound.
WhenIsaw his text, it changed everything.SoIwill focus on taking care of him.
Afterthe lemons are juiced,Ipour the juice over the sugar and stir in cold water from the tap.NowthatI’vemanaged to stop crying,Ineed to wash my face and put on fresh mascara.
I’mworried aboutLuke’sfever.Itfeels really high.Whydidn’tIask him what other symptoms he’s having?Damn,Iam a mess.Ican’t even be a proper nurse.
Iget my face cleaned up and presentable and search the medicine cabinet for cold medicine with fever reducer.Itake out all of it, for coughs, for congestion, for body aches, and anything else that might be bothering him.IfIcan get his fever down,I’lltakeOliviawith me to get anything else he might need, at least something that didn’t expire last year.
Isit all of it on the kitchen table and get chicken out of the freezer to stew for soup.Worriedabout having to leave it on the stove whileI’mchecking on him,Idecide to gather up everythingIneed and take it with me.Ican fix the soup while he rests.Ifhis kitchen was in a separate room, it would be easier.Idon’t want to keep him from resting.
Thisis good though.Ihave something to focus on other than my own stupid, broken heart.
Aftera couple of trips toLuke’s, everything is whereIneed it to be, except forO.Lukesays it so much,Isometimes find myself referring toOliviaasOtoo.Itmakes me smile becauseIfeel his love for both of us.
Surprisinglyshe’s awake in her crib whenIcheck on her.
“Heysweetie,”Icoo.Hertoothless grin fills my heart every timeIsee it. “We’regoing to spend the day withLuke.He’sfeeling yucky, soIneed you to be a good girl.”
Shestretches and squirms asIchange her diaper.Shewill be a good girl.Icouldn’t ask for a better baby.Ittook a couple of months, but we have a routine, andI’mfinding my groove.Ihold her in my arms asIpack a few things into her diaper bag.Oncewe’re ready and she’s wrapped up tight, we walk over toLuke’swith our umbrella.
Ittook me three trips to get everything over here.Hestayed asleep even with my coming and going.IgetOliviaset up on his sofa, nestled in a pillow fort, and check on him.Hechanged so his shirt is dry.Theshivering has ceased, and he seems to be resting more comfortably.Touchingmy palm to his forehead,Icheck his temperature.Stillover a hundred and oneIgauge.Earlierit felt close to one hundred and three.
Imake a cold compress to lay on his head and sit next to him on the bed.I’mstaring at my watch whenIfeel his hand move from underneath the covers and take mine.Hishot palm covers my fingers only to turn my hand over so he can hold it.Ilook away as tears threaten.Thereis no need becauseLuke’seyes remain shut.Aftera few minutes,Iturn the compress over.It’salready warm, soIslip my hand from his to dunk the cloth in the bowl of ice water on the nightstand.
“Thatfeels good,” he mumbles asIplace it back on his forehead.
“You’rereally too warm.It’sworrying me,”Iconfess.
“I’llbe okay, little peach.”
Twistthe knife why don’t you?Iknow he’s being affectionate out of appreciation, but right now, it makes me feel vulnerable whenI’malready gutted. “Doyou feel like drinking some lemonade?”
Hiseyes flutter open, but only barely. “Sure.”
Icheck onOliviaand pour him a glass.Hechugs down half of it and tells me he wants to go back to sleep, soIleave him and put the chicken on the stove.Hedoesn’t like vegetables in his chicken noodle soup, soIsettle in withOlivia, and we try to relax a little too.
* * *
LUKE
Whenmy body aches wake me up,Rachelnurses me with ibuprofen and chicken soup.Idon’t eat much.MostlybecauseI’mtoo damn tired, as ifIhaven’t slept for days on end.Olivia’scrying wakes me up one time.Racheleventually left with her.Idon’t know when they returned, but asIcome back from unconsciousness,Ihear her crying softly.It’sstill raining, and it’s dark again.Theonly light in the room is the lantern next to my television, whichI’mimpressed still works.
She’ssitting withOliviain her arms, crying softly.IwishIhad the energy to be angry atEvanfor hurting her.
Fuck,Ihave to get better soIcan take care of her.ThatmeansIhave to deal with my own shit, andI’mnot ready for that.
