Chapter 47: Can You Cry?
1023words
A week had flown by quickly. The insurance company is handling the office repairs, while I keep lying to my mom about where I go so early each morning. Everleigh's behavior has been getting stranger by the day. I don't understand these pregnancy hormones. One day, I came home to find her lying on the floor, and my heart nearly stopped.
'Goodness, Ever!" I hurried to her, tossing my phone onto the bed. 'What's wrong?" I lifted her head onto my lap, and she blinked up at me.
'What are you doing?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.
'Why are you on the floor?" I helped her up, and she collapsed onto the bed, already drifting back to sleep.
'The room was too hot, Nate. The AC wasn't working, so I lay on the floor. It's so cozy; you should try it sometime," she said, smiling.
'That's not happening," I shook my head. 'Are you running a fever?" I touched her neck, but her temperature seemed normal.
'Do you even care?" she asked, raising her eyebrows playfully.
I sat on the edge of the bed, facing her. 'Have I ever not cared?"
'Maybe a little," she replied, turning over with a groan. 'This bed is so uncomfortable." She climbed down from the bed.
'Where are you going?" I grabbed her hand before she could wander off.
'I want to lie down on the floor. Why are you even home at this hour?" she whined, laying herself back down on the floor, rolling around with a grin.
'What do you think you are doing, Ever? This is ridiculous," I said, watching in disbelief as she rubbed herself against the floor.
'It's so cool, Nate. Come, lie down with me," she said, reaching out to pull me closer.
'That's not happening. Get up, Ever. Come on."
Her lip puckered, and tears welled up in her eyes. Before I knew it, she was whimpering. I had no idea what to do. What the hell is this? I guess being an only child—and a bit spoiled—made moments like this even more difficult with her.
'Why are you crying now?" I squatted beside her, brushing back her hair.
'Don't touch me! You are so mean," she cried, swatting my hand away.
'Tell me what to do, and I will do it. Just please stop crying."
'Lie down beside me."
'I don't like lying on the floor, Ever. It's uncomfortable."
'You don't have to like it. Our baby does, so you should too," she said.
That was manipulative. How can a baby barely four months along want me to lie on this hard, cold floor?
'Come on," she urged, and reluctantly, I lay down beside her. 'See? It's not that bad," she said, propping herself on her elbow.
'It is. Come on, let's lie on the bed instead," I replied, trying to get up. But she pulled me back down, and my back hit the floor hard. I couldn't even be mad at her, and that was frustrating.
'What?" I asked, trying to keep my cool. Without a word, she leaned over me, her hair brushing my face as she kissed me.
'I love you," she whispered.
I smiled, turning her onto her back and deepening the kiss. Everleigh was right—I didn't know what I wanted anymore. At first, it was easy to push her away, to snap and walk out, but now, with her pregnant and vulnerable, I found myself giving in. She's definitely manipulating me, and I'm not sure how to feel about it.
***
I sat on a chair beside Scarlett's hospital bed. She was leaning against the headboard, staring blankly into space. She had regained consciousness three days ago, after being kept under continuous sedation to keep her calm, but since then, she hadn't spoken a word. She didn't even cry to release the pain; she just held it all in, making it hurt even more. The doctor said she is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
Every time I look at her, I feel so helpless. Even though I only spent a short time with Razi, I knew she was a sweet little girl, and losing her hurts deeply.
'Scarlett?" I whispered, holding her hand. She didn't respond or pull away. 'Can you cry, please? We are all so worried about you. You can't keep living like this. You have to move on, please. God will bless you with another child," I said, and for the first time, she turned her head toward me. 'Say something, Scarlett, anything. I'm here to take on your pain; just let it out, please," I squeezed her fingers gently. She turned away again. 'You haven't even met Kristine's baby. You have another little girl now, Scarlett. She will call you ‘aunt'. I know no one can replace Razi, but maybe she can help ease the pain until you have another child."
Just then, her mother came in with a lunch bag. 'Any progress?" she asked, and I shook my head. She sighed and sat down in the chair across from me. 'I brought her some food. Would you try feeding her? She won't eat a thing from me."
'I will try," I said, taking the food from her. It was Scarlett's favorite—beef caldereta. 'Look, Scarlett, it's your favorite. Just have a bite, please. I'm sure you will like it," I held the spoon near her mouth, but she didn't open up. She simply turned to face her mother and closed her eyes. 'Is she asleep?" I asked her mother.
'Yes," she sighed. 'I don't know what else to do. She's barely eating—just a bit of water and an apple slice here and there. It's like losing her all over again," her voice cracked as she began to cry.
'You have to be strong, Aunt. She will get through this, I'm sure," I tried to reassure her, placing the food on the nearby table.
'When? She has been like this for three days. This can't be good for her health."
'Please, don't cry, Aunt. She will be okay," I said, and she nodded, though sorrow filled her eyes.
