ENEMIES(52)

Concussions sucked.

I was going nuts by late morning. Everyone had left from the house. I assumed Lisa told everyone I was back because they were quiet, or quieter than they used to be, or maybe they were getting into the swing of school again? Either way, I couldn’t stay in my room any longer.

So I cleaned.

All day.

I started in the bathroom. Nothing strenuous, just little things like reorganizing the medicine cabinet and then moved on to the game room…the entire DVD collection that seemed to now be turning into an antique collection was in disarray. Then it was the pile of magazines left in the basement kitchen corner.

Then the towels in the basement closet got reorganized.

Then the stairs needed to be swept.

The floors were vacuumed. The ones that needed to be swept, got swept. Every piece of furniture got dusted.

The entire basement kitchen was cleaned. The fridge was wiped down, the food put back in neat sections, Lisa’s section and mine underneath.

It was three in the afternoon when I finished all that. My stomach growled, so food. I’d eat. I could pass the time with that then, but no thinking. I couldn’t handle that. But I knew me. I’d start thinking, remembering, and I’d lose it, so I got my phone and headphones, and I went to task. I was listening to an audiobook when I finished cooking my meal. It wasn’t anything fancy, but I couldn’t stop once I started.

Finding flour, sugar, enough to bake something else, I started going.

I made a cake. Cookies. Pastries. There was a batch of no-bake cookies waiting to be scooped up when I felt a presence behind me.

Whirling, a scream was already in my throat, but it was Lisa.

She had stopped at the end of the stairs, her mouth hanging open, her eyes big, and her bag dropped from her fingers to the floor. She was taking everything in, and I had every inch of that basement covered with some sort of baked good.

I remembered. Shit.

The flour was hers. Everything was hers that I had used.

“Um.”

“Holy Batman, woman.” She was still taking everything in. “You made all this?”

“I have a concussion and I’m going through a period in my life right now where I can’t think straight. So…this,” I motioned around me, “and I cleaned.”

She was taking that in, too, her eyebrows raised as her mouth closed. “Yeah. I noticed.” She assessed me, her head cocking to the side. “You have two weeks of this?”

“Well.” I was redoing the math since the first week was spent in the coma and then at Stone’s. “Maybe just a week, actually.” Yes! That was right. Stone kept forgetting there was time already spent in the hospital, and those totally counted. “Six days, actually.”

My week was looking way better now. I could think in six days. I could busy myself with homework and college again.

My knees almost gave out from relief.

I could call the Quail. I could call Siobhan. I could set up study dates. I could start working. I could busy myself in other ways. Hell to the yes. Halle-freaking-lujah.

“You, uh, need more places to clean or…” She was taking in all the food. “…or cook stuff?” She gestured upstairs. “I know Mia and I have been bitches to you, but we’re trying to be civil. Shit’s not about you, but anyway. You can go upstairs if you need more to do.” She half-grinned to herself. “Don’t think anyone would turn down free cleaning and a personal chef.”

I should’ve been insulted? Maybe? She was okay with me cleaning her shit. Lovely. But I was so relieved, to be honest. “You think? They wouldn’t get mad at me using their food to cook at all?”

She snorted. “We’re in college. You think we have money to cover personal chefs? God, no. We might’ve been kissing your ass if we’d known all this before.” She turned for her room and a second snort came from her. “Hell. When Char comes crawling back, we might not take her at this rate.”

Then she was in. Then the door was shut. Then I was alone, remembering I only had this place for a semester.

Nope. Not going there.

One day at a time. Or, well, six days at a time right now. I’ll figure the rest out when the time comes.

So, with all that in mind, I took the upstairs to task.

She was right. Savannah and Nicole gave me hugs, and Mia’s greeting was a reserved hug, but all echoed Lisa’s thoughts. So I cleaned and I baked.





That evening, I had a complete taco buffet made for twenty people. Guacamole. Salsa. Avocado. Multiple dipping sauces. Ground meat. Lettuce. Cheese. Corn tortillas. Soft tortillas. Hard shells. Refried beans.

Day four: I moved to the backyard and began listening to landscaping audiobooks.

Day five: The guys went to the grocery store, restocked everything, and I went to town. Again. That night they had a full pizza buffet spread for them. Pepperoni. Sausage. Taco cheese. Goat cheese. Mozzarella ball cheese pizza.

There were three different sauces to go with the pizzas.

I even shredded parmesan cheese myself into a bowl by each pizza.

They had a Thursday night football party. Eagles were playing Vikings, and I grabbed a slice of pizza and hid in my room that night. Cooking. Baking. Cleaning. Now landscaping. Those things I could do alone, only when I was alone. If people came around, I was gone. Too much stimuli with my concussion.