Journal

On Monday morning, after a long night of insomnia and boredom spent staring at the moon through the skylight in my bedroom, I finally managed to walk downstairs to the kitchen under my own power. My legs were shaky, but it felt good to use them again. It had only been a few days, and I was so weak. I couldn’t imagine how horrible it must be for people who are bedridden for any length of time.

Nick had been staying at the condo, sleeping on the couch in the living room, just in case I needed him. I had heard him leave before dawn, heading home to change and go to work. But he didn’t leave before being sure to leave his cell phone number and various instructions stuck in various places around the house on Missy’s bright pink sticky notes. I discovered them, one after another, as I wandered to the kitchen. “Don’t drink caffeinated beverages,” said one. “I’d stick with toast today,” said another. “Drink something with a bit of sugar,” said a third. I poured myself a glass of juice and shuffled to the couch to watch TV.

Nick’s backpack was sitting beside the coffee table, unzipped, along with his pillow and carefully folded blanket. I reached into the open bag, pulled out the shirt and held it close to me. It smelled like him, clean and soapy, and made me feel at ease.

I’ve never been the kind to look through other people’s things. I’ve house-sat for people, and never even looked into their medicine cabinets over the course of an entire weekend, so you can imagine my surprise when I felt an uncontrollable urge to rummage through his bag. I was even more shocked when I came upon his journal. I didn’t even know he kept a journal, but I guess there was a lot that I didn’t know about him. I opened it without hesitation and began to search for interesting tidbits. I read the last entry, slowly, having trouble focusing on the handwritten page with my dizziness. It was written the night before.

Sunday

I spent the whole day here at Angela’s place. She’s been in really bad shape, but she’s turned a corner and I think she’ll be ok in the long run, assuming that she’s strong enough to fight off the demons that she went on the meds for in the first place. Missy was scared to death, but I’ve seen this sort of thing enough times to know that while she was going to be miserable for a while, she was ultimately going to be ok.

I’ve spent a lot of time here with her this weekend, not that Angela’s aware of it. As I sat beside her bed, watching her sweat and shake as the medication left her body, I wondered what I was thinking. Why was I here? Don’t I know better than to get myself involved in this sort of thing? The answer, of course, is yes. So why did I hold her hand as she slept and hallucinated? Why did I sleep on this awful couch last night, and probably will do so again tonight? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was permanently wrecking my back to be here.

I don’t really have an answer for why I stay. I ran away once, that day in the ER, but when we crossed paths again at the bookstore I had this weird feeling that this was some sort of destiny, which I absolutely didn’t believe in until that moment. I watched her trying to take care of the stoner guy, trying to make him comfortable in spite of his burns. Here she was, this girl with more than her own share of problems, and she cared for and held this guy like he was the only person in the world. You rarely find that kind of caring, and never accompanied with a smile and a laugh that makes the world seem light. It’s amazing that her laugh seems so free and happy when I know that her reality is anything but.

She’s fighting really hard to change her life. She’s had a tough one, I’ll grant her that. And to still have a sense of humor after all that… well, it tells you something about a person.

Ok, I’ll admit that it’s not just her sense of humor and her caring. Yes, she has nice tits (and they look even better when she’s naked), but that’s not the reason why I’m here. I’m here because I feel like this is where I’m supposed to be. I don’t know how she feels about me. She might not even be interested, I don’t know. But I do know that, at the very least, I want to be friends with her. And when you want friendship even more than sex, that’s saying something. Not that I’d turn down a chance at sex, but that’s another story.

I helped her undress and take a bath today. It was all I could do not to crawl into the tub with her. She looked so innocent in there, arms floating in the water, hair drifting around her, and I just sat back and admired the view. If she felt any shame at being naked, she didn’t show it. On the other hand, she was probably too exhausted to truly care. She fell asleep in the tub, just for a few minutes, but long enough to be completely serene in the water. I wondered if she was dreaming. When she opened her eyes, she looked at me as though she fully expected me to be there, watching her in the bath water. She smiled dreamily and rested her head on the edge of the tub, enjoying that split second before the dizziness returned. It came back in a flash, and she asked me why I insisted on spinning her tub around. I thought she was hallucinating again, but she gave me a sly wink, and I knew she was kidding.

So back to the question at hand, the question I keep asking myself, the question that friends and family will all ask eventually: why am I here? The fact of the matter is that I really don’t know why I’m here. I just know that for now, this is where I feel like I should be.

I stopped reading and carefully placed the journal back in his backpack. I was glad to see that he was conflicted about being with me. Too little conflict, and he wouldn’t really be facing the reality of what he was going to have to deal with. Too much conflict and he would have run away by now.

I sighed and sunk into the couch, watching The Price is Right, the ultimate sick day television show. It’s just not the same without Rod Roddy and his frighteningly loud jackets, though.

Missy came home at noon. “What are you doing out of bed?” she asked in a voice that was intended to be stern. Oh, how cute. I didn’t know Missy could even do stern.

I looked around like I was watching for the keepers. “Shhh! They think I have a day pass!” She laughed. “How was your weekend?” I asked.

“You mean the part I didn’t spend holding a bedside vigil for you?”

“Yeah, the other part.”

“I spent some time with David last night. I figured it was ok since Nick was staying with you.”

“Good idea. How are things going with you two?”

“In all honesty…” she paused. “They’re really great. Too-good-to-be-true great. I keep wondering if I’m missing something obvious. Like the fact that he’s a serial killer or something?”

I thought for a minute. “Is he local, or is he going home for the holidays?”

“Sort of local,” she said. “He has his own apartment here, but his family isn’t here. He’s flying back for the weekend.”

“Ah, the true spirit of Christmas: fight the crowds, fly home and pick fights with family members who will be the source of all melancholy for the following days.”

“You’ve got it,” she said, laughing. She poured herself a glass of juice.

“You’re not supposed to drink that,” I said. “Too many calories, remember?”

She looked at the glass, then took a drink. “Calories be damned,” she said. Then she went back to the fridge to check out the nutrition info on the label. “Oh god,” she said, dumbfounded. “Do you know that this has 180 calories per serving? Damned evil juice people.”

“Oh my god,” I yelled, practically shooting myself off the couch. “The cat! Where’s the cat?”

“No, don’t worry. I’ve got her. She’s still hanging out in my room. The activity and trauma was too much for her to take.”

“You let the hairy beast into your room?” It seemed ridiculous to battle over a cat, especially one like this. “You do know that everything you own will be covered in long, white cat hair.”

“Yep, I know, but she was too upset to leave her in your room. I think she thought you had some really bad hairballs.” She paused for a moment. “What are you doing today?”

I pointed to the Punch Game on Price is Right. “This is everything on a sick day.”

“Uh-huh. Looks boring to me. Ok. Well, I need to go out and do some Christmas shopping. Do you need anything?” I said no; after all, who did I have to buy gifts for, other than her? She grabbed her purse and keys, gave me a kiss on my forehead and bounced out of the room.

I was alone again with Bob Barker. I felt like calling someone, but there was no one to call other than Nick, and I wasn’t going to call him while he’s on duty if it wasn’t an emergency. I thought about calling my sister, but I didn’t have her number at the office. She was careful to give me only selected access into her life. The last thing she wanted was for me to call and be disruptive.

I decided that I wanted to swim, but the condo pool was too far away, and I wasn’t sure if it was heated or not. I slowly climbed the spiral staircase, marveling at the vertigo I felt when walking on circular stairs and filled up the tub with warm water and a packet of fizzy bath crystals. I undressed, and examined my naked body while leaning against the sink for support. Nick was right. I do have nice breasts.

I eased myself into the water, turned on the whirlpool jets, and decided that this was better than any afternoon at the pool, regardless of the weather. All I really needed was a good book, but reading is never easy when you’re dizzy.

I don’t know how long I had been in there, but the water had gotten cold and I was drying myself off when I heard Nick come in. “Hello?” he called from downstairs.

“Up here!” I called back.

He wandered into my room and stood in the bathroom doorway. I wrapped myself in the towel. “Hungry?” he asked. “I brought pizza for dinner.”

I felt my stomach rumble. I wasn’t sure about food, but I was definitely hungry. “It wouldn’t happen to be from Vinnie’s, would it?”

“Of course it is,” he said. “Nothing but the best for you.”

“Give me a minute, I’ll be right down.”

I came downstairs, slowly, wearing a long, silky robe that Missy had left for me. My wet hair was combed back out of my face. I took my place on the couch and shivered from a chill.

“Come here,” Nick said, warpping his arms around me. “Feel better?”

I nodded. It always felt better when he was near.

He turned on the TV and found a silly movie starring Doris Day and Rock Hudson. He covered us both in his blanket, feet meeting in the middle. I realized that I must be easy to please, because pizza and a movie seemed like an ideal evening.

And as I sat there, I wondered if he was trying to take another look at my breasts. I hoped so.