THIRTEEN
May 24th, 2015
My heartbeat is wild when I jerk awake, drowning in my own sweat. My headache makes the dark room swim before my eyes, my fingers clutching onto the sides of my bed. What little I'd eaten last night rises to the back of my mouth, making me fight to keep it down.
I tell myself that I know the drill. Deep breaths will stop the spinning. I think. Or was it Stop, Drop and Roll? I lift a shaky hand to wipe my forehead and press the button to call a nurse.
"How are you doing, sweetie?" Olivia asks, patting my hair. The motherly touch makes me feel that she really isn't that bad after all.
I manage a small smile and manage to croak out that I don't feel too good before my words are drowned in wracking coughs.
"Water?" she says, already pouring out a glass, which I accept gratefully. I chug half of the icy drink before setting it down on the table.
"Will I be okay?" I ask in a small voice, as she wraps another blanket around my cold feet.
She looks torn between reassuring me and telling me the truth, by the looks of it. Thankfully, she chooses the latter. "You're getting worse," she admits, eyes down. "Nothing that can't be fixed, though. You'll be okay."
"I'll be okay," I echo. "Can you phone my Dad?"
She smiles a little. "He's right outside, you know? He comes here everyday."
"He does?" I exclaim. "He's not supposed to, he said—"
"You really did get your stubborn side from him, huh? He's been coming here everyday with your mother. They look really worried."
My mother?
I don't bother correcting her. She's just confused.
"Can I send them in?" she asks, and I nod. She walks out the room, her heels' clacks echoing loudly against the marble tiles.
My smile drops as soon as I see the Woman from the Wallet by Pa's side.
"Honey," Pa says warningly, but it's too late. My scowl has been cemented already, and no amount of budging will smudge it off.
"Hi, I'm Cara," Woman from the Wallet smiles, holding out an uncertain hand that I guess I'm supposed to shake. I'm about to decline, when I meet Pa's gaze. I sigh. I do owe him this much.
I grasp Cara's hand, studying her face. She's not like the other women Pa used to bring home. There's something different that I can't put a pin on. She'd get along with me. I'm not like other girls, either, you see. I like vegan chicken nuggets.
"Hi," I say softly. My game's off today, dang it. I'm too worn out to be a brat. They'd better not announce their engagement now, taking advantage of my pathetic state.
"I'm so excited to finally meet you! Your dad has told me so much about you," she says instead. She doesn't miss the accusing glare I shoot at him. "All good things, of course. All good things."
I smile back, not too sure how to supposed to respond to that info dump.
There's a small silence, as neither of us know how to further the exchange.
"Cara's a painter, you know?" Pa finally says, and she nods. "You could work on something together, isn't that great?"
"I stopped painting years ago, Pa," I say, kicking myself for ending the conversation. Lying would've been better than suffering this hell.
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