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“Do you need anything?” she asks, her voice fleeting and body stance timid.
I shake my head again, hands in my pockets as I slowly walk towards the bed.
“No, princess, thank you,” I say.
Lily, who has been standing by the door all this time, takes a few reluctant steps closer, probably afraid to accidentally invite herself to stay.
But I, sitting on the bed a few yards away from her, reach forward with a hand, inviting her in for good.
She comes and stands in between my legs as I embrace her by the waist and rest my head against her stomach. Lily then caresses my hair, and with a deep sigh I realize my soul will never be whole again without this girl.
“I called my son,” I confide.
“To tell him about the accident?” she asks in return.
“U-hum,” I nod. “He cried. His mother was terrified. I was terrified too, but… It was nice.”
“Nice?” she sits by my side.
“Yeah,” I say. “To feel loved and cared about. I’d hate to die and leave Eric alone.”
Lily rubs the back of my hand, lovingly.
“He wouldn’t be alone…” she says, “He would have his mom, and Sandra. But he would miss you terribly.”
She embraces me, and caresses my chest, bringing a catch to my throat.
“You think?” I ask, more vulnerable than I’d like.
“Of course,” Lily says with a smile in her voice. “I don’t know how I didn’t recognize he was your son before. He always talked about you as if you were a superhero.”
Now I smile. “My champ… He hates to be called that, now,” I excuse myself to go into the closet to find more comfortable clothes to wear.
“I need a shower and someone to help me change my bandage. Would you do me the honor?”
Lily giggles, the most adorable sound.
“Of course! I should get a change of clothes too if I’m going to sleep here, though.”
“You can sleep naked,” I say, nonchalant.
She throws a pillow at me, laughing, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” I say with a convincing nod, “but I have other ideas too.”
I hand her my shirt and walk to the bathroom for the shower I need, returning only in a pair of boxer briefs. I bring with me the first aid kit, and Lily props herself up the same instant she sees it, already wearing my shirt, oversized on her.
“Lie down,” she orders, and I obey.
“Have you done this before?” I ask. I’m not worried, as it’s not rocket science, but I need to make sure she’s comfortable with it.
“U-hum,” she hums, “my grandma was a diabetic and got a lot of ulcers. I helped change her bandages sometimes.”
Her tiny hands unwrap a load of gauze and place it carefully over the stitches after applying the antiseptic.
“Never heard you talk about your family much before,” I say, hands behind my head.
“There isn’t much to say,” she says, “we’re all very boring people. Teachers, doctors, lawyers, engineers. I almost didn’t escape. Is this firm?”
