Javi, Come Home

CHAPTER TEN

     Javi wakes for the second time that morning in his bed. He's sweat through his clothes and drenched his sheets. He still feels tired when he sits up, pushing his hair off of his sticky forehead. It's hot in his room but not so hot he should be sweating this profusely.

     It takes all the effort to get to the shower. He's dizzy the moment he stands, and almost has to crawl down the hallway. He has to stop and brace himself against the wall and then the door and then the sink.

     He feels like he's running a fever. He turns on the cold water and splashes it on his face. He's surprised when he gags. He hopes he's not going to throw up again. When his dad had woke him on the back porch, he'd made him eat some toast and take his morning medicine before he left for work. Oscar told Javi he could stay home, but he expected him to call and check in. Javi had gone back to sleep shortly after that.

     He doesn't throw up, just belches loudly, and the dizziness weans enough that he's able to run a cool shower and wash the stale sweat off of himself. He feels a little better, is slow to dry off and change into some linen shorts and a similar button up. The fabric is light and airy, which he needs thanks to his newfound sweating problem.

     Javi is surprised by the sudden onslaught of hunger. He looks through the fridge but there's only ingredients, nothing quick to eat. The hunger makes him violently nauseous. He eats a handful of shredded mozzarella before leaving the house.

     His mom's car is still parked outside the garage. It hasn't moved since he got there. He can't drive it though, not today, maybe not ever, so he goes into the garage and takes out his old bike. The tire's flat but there's a manual pump that he uses to fill it. He can already feel the sweat dripping down his back.

     He thinks briefly that maybe his body's rejecting his medication. Maybe it's making him sicker. His doctor told him he had to be rigid with taking it, that he shouldn't stop for any reason, and to consult her if he was having problems. He doesn't feel like this reaction requires medical attention but he also doesn't feel quite right.

     It's a short ride to the 7/11 where he buys a Blue Raspberry slushee, and a s'mores pop tart. It's enough to tide him over.

     He rides to Tate's house next, knowing that he shouldn't, that he has no business doing so, but unable to stop himself. He wasn't there for any of his own mom's last moments, and he won't make that mistake with Margie.

     Especially since she smiles when he walks up, raising her hand and flicking her wrist to say come in from behind the screen door. "It's a nice day," he says to her. "I thought we'd take a walk."

     Margie smiles again and nods, so Javi gets behind her and pushes her out of the house and down the ramp off of the side of the porch. He's careful as he brings her down the drive towards the road. There's no sidewalk, but the dirt road is so dry it's smooth enough to push her with little resistance.

     "You don't talk as much," Javi finds himself saying. He regrets it immediately, wondering if it's insensitive.

     "I don't like to," Margie answers quietly, her words coming out stilted. "It's hard now. I feel like. You can tell. That I'm not well."

     "And that bothers you?" She nods. Javi says, "Not being well's not a good reason not to do something."

     Margie shrugs. Javi says, "I'm not well, either."

     This piques her interest. "No?" she asks.

     Javi sighs. "No, not for a long time."

     "Is that why you came home?"