Underneath the Sycamore Tree(81)

I don’t reply.

He shifts so his body is turned toward me and studies me closely. “When you’re tired, your eyes glaze over. Sometimes you’ll have bags under them. When you’re in pain, you’re tense, trying too hard to focus on anything else. Your shoulders are pulled back and you do everything not to move more than you need to.”

He points toward my hands, which are tucked on my lap. “You make a fist like it’ll help combat things, then loosen them when you realize you’re only doing more damage. Want me to continue?”

“Kaiden—”

“That,” he says. “Your voice is lower, tired in a way that’s not just from exhaustion. I hate when I hear you talk like that, smiling at everyone who has no fucking clue.”

I stare down at my hands.

“I hate this for you, Em.”

I hate it for me more.

“Can we just watch the movie?”

“Do you need me to get you Motrin?”

I debated on taking some with my other meds when we got home from dinner but opted not to. Sometimes it’s nice to pretend not to be dependent on the additional pain killer. I’m already taking close to twenty pills a day—three heavy dose steroids three times a day, my birth control, iron supplements, migraine medicine that’s upped to four pills total now, Vitamin D tablets for my deficiency, ginger hair supplements to strengthen my roots, and the more than occasional pain reliever. Motrin for breakfast, Excedrin for lunch, Tylenol for dinner.

Kaiden sighs and gets out of bed, disappearing from my room. When he appears a few minutes later, he’s got a glass of water in one hand and two red pills in the other.

“Thanks,” I murmur, knowing there’s no point in arguing him on it.

He ignores the waiting movie. “When was the last time you saw your doctor?”

I was supposed to have a follow up over four months ago, but she had to cancel for some family emergency. She was out for two months and nobody ever called to reschedule. I know I should have reached out, especially because one of my prescriptions is close to being empty with no refills, but I couldn’t make myself pick up the phone.

Because you know…

Swallowing, I answer, “Before Christmas.”

He swears. “You need to be seen.”

“I’m—”

“You’re not fine,” he snaps. “I wish to hell that you were, Emery. I’m upset that you’re sitting here pretending that what you’re feeling is no big deal to appease me. I’m not your parents though. I’m not your mother and thank fuck I’m not your father. It’s okay to admit you’re not doing well.”

My eyes tear up as I try calming my breathing. “I don’t like seeing other people miserable just because I am.”

He shucks my chin lightly. “Don’t you get it, Mouse? That’s what family does. They worry. If someone loves you, they’re going to experience the same misery because they can’t do anything for you.”

I swallow. “But Mama…”

“She’s been doing better, right?”

She calls me almost every day to tell me about group. I texted her earlier after missing her call because I was still at dinner, and she mentioned getting a job offer at the local hospital. It isn’t in the peds clinic like she used to work, but she seemed excited. It’s more money and benefits, and from what Grandma told me a while ago there’s even a man who she talks about who works as a physician on the same floor.

“Mama is doing great,” I answer, feeling the tension ease slightly from my body.

Getting a new job is huge for her, but if she starts dating then I’ll feel even better. I saw her invest all her free time in Logan, and shortly thereafter, me. There was nothing left to give anyone else. I suspected she had been seeing someone before Lo got worse. Her mood changed, and I don’t think it was just because of her sick daughter. She stopped doing her hair and makeup like she wasn’t trying to impress anyone anymore.

Grandma says she wears lipstick again.

It makes me smile.

“I want to make people’s lives as less complicated as possible. I already accept that mine can’t be so easy, which is why it has to be different for everyone else.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffs. “Em, your pain is always going to be ours. That doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

Confused, I give him a doubtful stare. “I don’t see how it can be a good thing.”

“It makes it real.”

“What?”

He pauses. “Love. Life.”

I blink.

“I told you before I loved you.”

I remember.

“You don’t have to go shopping tomorrow,” he says, going to the laptop and clicking out of the movie.

“I told Cam I would.”

“She’ll understand.”

Sighing, I watch him surf the selections before choosing a Disney movie. “What are you doing? I thought you hated Disney.”

“I do,” he grumbles. “But that doesn’t mean you do. Plus, these are better to watch when you’re not feeling well.”

I told him a long time ago that I used to put on Pocahontas when I was sick. Seeing it on the screen makes my eyes water worse than before as Kaiden opens his arms for me to curl up in his side.