It's Me, Again

Ch. 10 (Kate)

I went to my bedroom to take a nap and asked Dylan to wake me in an hour. I wasn't completely lying about being tired - I am tired - but I wanted a little bit of alone time. Why did something as dumb as being allergic to strawberries bother me so much? It's not that big of a deal, but when Sarah took the container of strawberries out of Dylan's hands and said I was allergic now, 4 years of summers spent in the strawberry patches racing Dylan to fill our baskets flashed through my mind. It was our thing. I've lost the guy I love, my memory, and now this stupid fruit has been taken from me too. The fruit thing might sound really trivial and the epitome of #firstworldproblems, but it's just another reminder of everything I've lost.

I want to scream, but Dylan's outside and I don't feel like having to explain why I'm screaming into my pillow. I turn the lights out and give into my exhaustion. In what feels like seconds, I feel a gentle hand on my arm, "Kate, it's time to get up," I hear Dylan whisper.

I groan and swat his hand, "Come on, get up," he says in a soothing voice.

He helps me sit up from my sleeping position and my eyes are still closed. I'm so groggy and I feel like a little kid who's been woken up against my will. Eyes closed, hair crazy, tortured look on my face. I feel the mattress dip with Dylan's weight as he sits next to me on the edge of the bed. He put an arm around my shoulders and I instinctively rest my head on his shoulder, eyes still closed, wanting to drift back off. He rubs my arm, "Let's get up and get ready for dinner. I can help you sort out your school work and then we can cook. How's that sound?"

I groan again and then I come to and realize I'm resting my head on Dylan's shoulder and pop up, "Oh my god, I'm sorry," I say so embarrassed and wipe my face in fear that I'm drooling or something.

"It's fine. You awake now?"

"Yeah, I'm good," I rub my eyes. "Let me just freshen up in the bathroom."

Dylan nods in the dim light. "I'll see you out there in a few."

After I freshened up and got over my embarrassment that I had just been using Dylan as my personal pillow, I went out to the living room. Dylan had my computer out and school things. We spent a little bit of time looking for all my projects. Thank god I'm neurotic about keeping my work organized and getting a head start on my work because pretty much all my final projects are already completed. One less thing to worry about. Most of my photo projects and portfolios have been completed, I just need to do the written portions. That would be a little challenging since I don't remember taking these photos, but I'll come up with something.

"Well, now that that's all sorted out, want to help me make dinner?" Dylan gets up off the floor and walks towards the refrigerator.

"Really? You're going to let me help and not make me sit and rest?" I was surprised since people had been babysitting me 24/7.

"Yeah, this dinner isn't going to cook itself. And I think you can handle being my sous chef," he chuckled. "Do you want to cut vegetables or be the stirrer?" he held up carrots and celery in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other.

"Um, vegetable cutter, please."

"You got it." He handed me the carrots, celery, and onion. Then he got me a knife and cutting board.

I sat on a stool at the island and started getting to work chopping the vegetables.

"What are we having?" I ask as I start peeling and chopping.

"I'm making my mom's spaghetti bolognese recipe," Dylan says as he starts the pot of water for the pasta.

"Oh my god, I love your mom's bolognese sauce. It's so good," my mouth started watering at the memory of the sauce.