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I wanted to ask him more questions, except Rose has awakened, and he jumps out of bed to get her. He puts her in the middle for our morning time together, and I roll onto my side. I do love this part of the day when the three of us relax in bed as though there isn’t a care in the world.
Tomorrow will be a different story.
This upcoming job could change him, and it scares me.
* * *
The following night I’m sitting out front watching the golden orb sink slowly into the ocean. The crashing waves then the fizz of foam hypnotizes Rose and me until a noisy seagull squawks overhead and kills the moment. Rose screams in delight and reaches up to the bird.
“Don’t, honey.” I nuzzle her arm down. “It will think you’re feeding it.” I gaze out to the ocean to catch the last of the sunset along with walkers lining the foreshore, many with dogs on a leash.
I hear his car before I see it. It has a cacophony of sounds and is rocketlike when his foot is on the pedal. Even at a safe speed, as I know he’s mindful of pedestrians, the sound is its essence. He pulls up beside me, and the window’s dark glass lowers.
Rose’s excited screams demand his attention. “Hey, baby girl. Daddy missed you.” He stares at me. “How was your day?”
“Fine. Everything went according to plan. Mum said it was noisy, and we needed to apologize to the current guests.” I shrug as we can’t avoid it. “How was your day?”
“Different. Interesting. And yet the same.” He glances down at the steering wheel. “Anything planned for dinner?”
Asking me this, I realize how food still consumes his thoughts, how it stresses his mind whether it makes him sick, and more so, why he isn’t putting on weight.
“Mum has prepared a beef stir-fry.”
A few hours later, I’m surprised when he finishes his meal.
Maybe he has turned a corner?
* * *
Later, when Rose is asleep and we’re ready for bed, he stoops over and grabs his stomach.
I go to him and place a tentative hand on his back. “What is it?”
“My stomach.” He winces.
“You don’t have to eat everything Mum offers.” I rub his back. “You’re not used to rich sauces.”
“It’s not it.” A muscle ticks in his cheek.
I hate seeing him in pain.
“Something is wrong. Excuse me a moment.” He rushes to the bathroom and closes the door. The distinct sound of puking comes from the other side.
I open it a little. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stay with you?”
“No, Eden. It’s unpleasant,” he moans.
I ignore him and burst in. “I can handle unpleasant.” Kneeling beside him, I rub his back, unroll toilet paper, and give it to him to wipe his mouth. “Do you want me to wet a towel?”
He shakes his head and then lies on his side on the cool tiles.
“Honey, come to bed.”
“I can’t. I need to stay here a while,” he whispers.
I leave him to fetch a pillow and then position the pillow under his head. I lay beside him and rub his back. “I’m not leaving you.”
At two in the morning, we crawl back into bed, my back aching from spending hours on the cold bathroom floor. “Please get checked out,” I murmur as I snuggle in beside him and he drifts off.
