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Again, it was pristine except for one thing.
In the feeble light it looked to be a shoe box. It was dark, worn, dusty with newly pressed fingerprints in the layer of debris on the lid. Maybelle reached for the box, her fingertipsskimming the side when the most gut-wrenching heave sounded from Trey’s bathroom.
Startled, Maybelle shot to her feet, forgetting about the mysterious carton entirely as she pushed her ear to the door, “Trey? Are you alright? What was that?”
A moment passed and then another hurl tore open the quiet air on the other side. Maybelle didn’t wait for his response; she opened the door.
Trey.
He was kneeling in front of the toilet, forearms propped on the bowl as he wretched.
Oh no… The roiling in Maybelle’s stomach had her backing away for a brief moment to inhale the fresh air of his room, deeply, then she returned to the bathroom.
She would not pity puke; she would not pity puke.
Maybelle crouched next to Trey who was shirtless, still in his black athletic shorts from earlier and trembling with a line of saliva trailing from his mouth to the bowl of the toilet.
“Trey…”
Maybelle brushed a hand against his scalding forehead, through the waves of hair that fell in heaps over his bloodshot eyes.
He straightened, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he inhaled an unsteady breath, “Sorry, May. Just give me a minute. I can be ready soon.”
Maybelle scoffed, “Absolutely not.”
She rose, she could be useful.
She could help with this.
Maybelle left his room and entered the main space where Williams and Larson had returned to their game.
“Where’s your barf bowl?” She asked and as she suspected, she didn’t need to explain herself. Williams pointedto a cupboard door, curiously. Maybelle opened it to find one large, stale, pea green, plastic bowl.
The family barf bowl,everyone has one.
She snatched it and hastily returned to find Trey right where she had left him.
Maybelle fell back to her crouch beside him, “You got more in you, or can you stand?”
Trey looked at her then, red irritation in the sclera enhanced the vibrancy of his green eyes, “May, I promise I’ll be fine. Please just go sit on my bed for a bit. I’m already feeling a little better. We can go over your homework and anything—”
Maybelle stopped him by placing a soothing hand on his cheek.Trey, always the caretaker, always the one creating order, protecting and fixing.
He leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he felt her. What she would give to touch him like this all the time…
Stop.
Maybelle stole her hand away, making Trey look at her again and she said, “Let me take care of you, for once.”
Trey watched her, exhaustion apparent.
He opened his mouth and Maybelle shut down his case before he could even exhale, “Trey. Please. Let me do this.” She implored. In that stern request she let him see her, see how much she wanted to do this, for him.
Finally, Trey slumped which she considered was his surrender.
“Thank you, now, let’s get you into the shower and then get control of that temperature.”
Trey didn’t have a rebuttal, he stood with her when she beckoned then approached the shower. When he began to shuck his shorts down his legs Maybelle left the room, ignoring the pang of curiosity begging her to look, to watch. She closed thebathroom door halfway so she could listen in case he needed anything.
