Spotlight |h.s|

Eighteen

Aubrey Hart

I cleaned his puke out of the driveway with a hose, brought in our stuff from his car in case he needed something, then made myself some food and watched TV for the majority of the day. Charlie moved from my lap to wandering around the house after a few hours, this being one of my days with him.

It's now 6:00 pm, making it hour seven of Harry's migraine. I've gone into the guest room five times, this about to be my sixth, to check on him and put more Vicks on his head. He's lucky I remembered that trick. I used to think my mom was so weird for doing it, but it always helped, so I didn't care about the weirdness of it when showing him.

I can't imagine the pain he's in right now. I did a little bit of research on what could be causing this, and all signs lead to coke. All of the negativities about this man seem to lead to that. Well, that and the fact that he's a Scorpio.

It's been almost 24 hours since he had any, and a part of me wants to keep him from doing it for longer. I don't know why I bother putting effort into it. It's not like he would do this for me. Never in this lifetime. I'm just allowing myself to partake in one-sided acts of kindness.

I crack the door open enough for me to come inside, standing there in the darkness for a minute in silence so my eyes can adjust. He stirs at the noise, seeming to be asleep. Half asleep, at least. I see Charlie curled up into his side, my eyes widening and knowing Harry doesn't like him very much.

"What?" He groans as he wakes up, stretching as much as he can without making the pain throb in his head from the movement.

"Do you want more of this?" I hold up the tub.

"Oh, uh, yes." He opens his eyes to look at me, seeming like the pain might be starting to subside.

I take a towel like I have every hour since this started, wiping off what hasn't absorbed into his skin. I then rub the cold cream across his forehead, focusing on his temples and going as close to his eyes as I can.

He closes his eyes as I do it, looking soothed by the cold in this moment. He spreads his arms out, jumping and looking down when his hand meets fur.

"What's he doing?" He stares down at the sleeping cat that's curled up in a ball against the side of his chest.

"He can tell when someone doesn't feel good and likes to try to help." I explain.

"He's a cat." He doesn't seem to believe what I'm saying.

"Animals are good at sensing our emotions." I assure him.

This has been the most he's talked to me since this started, leading me to believe that the pain is getting more bearable. Probably not close to okay, but subsided enough for him to be able to talk and open his eyes without groaning in pain.

He nods at my statement, obviously skeptical, but not having it in him to argue. I reach over him to pet Charlie's small head, watching as he breathes calmly in his sleep.

"Why do you only have him sometimes?" He breaks the silence.

He's obviously feeling better if his stupid questions are back. For someone who hates me, he sure seems to want to know a lot about me. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, I guess.

"Jade and I split our time with him every week." I explain.

"Why?" He's persistent with it.

"He just means a lot to both of us, so we try to get time with him equally." I bounce around what I know he wants to hear. I don't like being vulnerable about her. Especially not with him.