Layers(87)

I sleep all through the rest of the day between rare waking moments and it is a comfort. It’s like being dead which is exactly how I feel, though, without the actual liability to the eternity crap.

~~~

“Hales.”

I sense Tasha’s body mass pressing onto the mattress as she scoots next to me into the bed. I hear her but do not physically react. I finally turn my stare from the TV. I’m not even sure what’s on right now.

“Poor little princess. Which book is this drawing for? Bleeding Beauty?”

I can’t help the thin smile curving on my lips as I see the drawing in my sketchbook that is in Tasha’s hands. The curly princess’s guts spill out from an open, bloody wound; the teeth of a werewolf with furious eyes dig deeply into her flesh.

“A picture worth a thousand psychological analyses,” Tasha comments dryly. “Twisted Missy at her very best,” she adds, shaking her head.

She takes my hand in hers. “Hales, it’s been three days.” I turn to look at her, regarded in return by a motherly, tender response. Have three days actually gone by? Did I sleep three whole days, lost in my colossal gloom?

As though sensing my inner dismay she adds, “Time to get back to the real world.”

“Tash, three days. He didn’t even call. It’s over,” I say, feeling as though I’m under heavy sedation.

“You need to get back up on your feet and when you are strong and clear enough you should try to talk to him, but not now, not like this.”

“What’s the time?”

“Half past seven.”

“Let me sleep just a little more.”

She sighs.

“Hayley, seven thirty p.m.. You slept through the entire day.”

“Just a bit more,” I murmur.

Left alone, I fall asleep again.





Chapter 35: The Good Doctor


I lose track of time. I’m not sure how much Tasha has let me sleep but after a while she wakes me up again. Ungluing my heavy eyes I discover her smiling at me from her place at my doorframe. Hey, smiling hasn’t yet been declared a legitimate, allowed gesture at this stage.

“Instead of following what the doctor prescribed I decided to just bring the doctor instead,” she declares, cheerfully. Once Ian’s handsome face lights the entrance I can’t help but give in to smiling.

“Ian,” I call weakly, happily sniffing at his presence.

“Now gorgeous, the first thing we do is get your supreme body bathed.”

Tasha giggles at Ian taking control of the Hayley situation.

“Up, girl. Or do you want me to carry you there?”

Yet another smile escapes my lips.

“You’re not getting in with me,” I scold, shutting the bathroom door on his intruding shoe.

“Like there’s anything I’d like in there. Whatevs, Hales, just get sanitized so I can hug you.”

An actual giggle bursts out of my exhausted mouth.

Bathed, cleaned and in a somewhat better mood I join Ian and Tasha on the living room sofa.

“Oh, much better. Now let me have some of you.”

I surrender completely to his fond embrace; Tasha joins and hugs us both. What would I do without these two?

“Gorgeous, you lost too much weight, not good.” He shakes his head. “Generally, I’m into heroin-chic, but not on you.” He twists his mouth.

“Nurse, the medicine please,” Ian says to Tasha.

I look at them both, amused.

“Is this one of those ‘bring the tray with the goods, nurse and I’ll let you play with my tools’ scenes?” Tasha asks, and we all chuckle.

“Don’t get frisky with me,” Ian scolds her with dancing eyes.

Tasha obediently heads to the kitchen. After some clattering noises and opening and closing of the freezer door, she comes back carrying a tray.

“Here you go Dr. Tamura. Anything else?” She presents Ian with the tray, cooperating with his nonsense, as we always do.

“Yes, Nurse Taylor. Get your royal butt next to the patient.”

I am so elated by the show they’re putting on for me, knowing they’d do anything to make me feel better.

“So, Miss Grace, you must have at least ten full spoons of this. Nurse Taylor here told me you haven’t eaten for three days now,” Ian declares, absorbed in his act, looking stern. He digs a spoon inside the Ben and Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk container.

“Eat up,” he commands as he puts the spoon in front of my mouth and I obey, like the good patient I am. Savoring my favorite ice cream, I realize that I am starving and nauseated at the same time.

By my third spoonful Ian sighs, looking thoughtful, taking a moment to watch both Tasha and me he utters, with an authoritative tone, “Now, as your physician and informal therapist, I’ll allow five minutes Daniel talking.”

I swallow the contents in my mouth, hard. Am I ready for that? Ian nods reassuringly as though reading my deepest thoughts.

“I’m going to start,” Tasha begins, brushing her bangs to one side. “Just so you know, Daniel isn’t taking it any easier than you are.”

How does she know? I look at her, anxiously waiting for her to resume, thirsty for any information about him.

“Intimidating Mr. Stark turned into Terrifying Mr. Stark; he fired four people in the last three days. He has less than zero tolerance.”