Life In Reverse(45)

I draw her to me then and she presses her face into my chest, sobbing loud, painful bursts of emotion. And I let her give it all to me, so I can carry it for her—as long as she’ll let me.

She pulls back when her sobs turn to soft cries. The quiver of her lip calms and her warm palm finds my cheek. “Somehow I knew you’d understand.”

I cover her hand with my own. “I do understand,” I utter quietly and give her a small smile. “Thank you for trusting me enough to share it with me.”

She nods, letting her hand slide out from underneath mine. A profound sense of loss comes over me and shakes me up, making me lightheaded.

How can you fear losing something that can never be yours?





THE DRIVE BACK to Ember’s house is filled with introspective silence. Though all that changes as I pull into her driveway. The cut of the engine is replaced by muted groans. When I turn to Ember, she has one hand clutched to her belly while the other one holds the side of her head.

“I don’t feel so good all of a sudden.”

“Hang on, Mickey.” I climb out and come around the car, opening her door and leaning inside. “Wrap your arms around my neck,” I instruct, and once she manages to anchor her loose limbs around me, I reach under her knees to scoop her up. She continues to moan softly as I ease her out of the car and carry her to the porch. With one arm keeping her body hoisted, my other hand scrounges in her purse for keys while attempting not to drop her to the ground.

“I might throw up on you if this takes too long,” she mumbles as I fiddle with the key in the lock. The sound of the loud click makes me exhale with relief.

Except for dim light emanating from the kitchen, the house is dark and quiet.

“Where’s the bathroom?” I whisper, not wanting to get caught sneaking around her house. I don’t think this would make for a great introduction to her mom.

She lifts a clumsy finger and points toward the staircase. “Up.”

Every other step creaks as we climb and I slow down, the noise too loud in the dense quiet. Somehow, I’m able to get us to the bathroom; the last room at the end of what seems like a never ending hallway.

A loud gurgle erupts from Ember’s stomach as I push open the door and set her gently on the tile. She springs into action, diving for the toilet bowl and plopping down in front of it. Her limp arms attach to both sides of the cold porcelain, hugging it for dear life. Then she coughs, but it sounds more like gagging. I kneel beside her, holding up her ponytail and soothing her back with my hand.

“I drank too much, t-too quick. I’m drunk.”

I chuckle. “You are.”

“That was s-stupid.” She whines into the toilet.

“Nah. I kind of think it was a human response to a subhuman *.”

Ember tries to laugh, but throws up instead. “Urggh.” She groans, the contents of her stomach emptying two more times before she lies down on the floor and curls up like a snail. Her body starts to shiver as noises of discomfort bubble up from her mouth. Cold races down my throat and I go into panic mode, digging around the bathroom cabinets for a washcloth or anything to help her. I find a small towel underneath the sink and soak it in warm water. Crouching beside her, I lay it across her forehead. Her eyelids flutter and she groans again, arms wrapped around her belly.

“Let me get you into bed.” In one motion, I raise her up off the tile, carrying her against my chest. “Which room is yours?” I ask, and she grunts an incoherent response that makes me smile. Basically, I’m on my own.

Through the powers of deduction and the help of Mickey Mouse, I locate her room and navigate my way to her bed. Gently lowering her to the mattress, I keep her head cradled and position her on a pillow. She giggles when I slip her sneakers from her feet.

“Mmm… good.”

I have no idea if she needs to get sick again. Just in case, I sprint to the bathroom and grab the small trash can near the toilet. I place it on the floor next to the bed then cover her up to her neck with a blanket. As I sit down beside her, my weight shifts the mattress and she blinks up at me. The scrap of light from the window rests on part of her face. Her eyes are glassy and wide as she stares at me and jabs a sloppy finger into my chest.

“You know, I didn’t like you when I first met you. You were kind of a j-jerk. But,” she adds, her smile lopsided. “I like you now.”

I thread my fingers through the damp hair at her temple as a grin takes over my lips. “I like you too, Mickey.”

She lets out a hiccupped sigh then rolls over and snuggles into the pillows. Quietly, I slide off the mattress, glancing around her room but seeing very little in the darkness. “I like you… a l-lot,” she mumbles, and I freeze, my heart thrumming to a beat I can’t control. With those five words, it’s like she’s trying to get inside me, push past my skin to a deeper place. I think it might be too late. I already feel her there. I’m scared of that—of her—and what she could do to me. But I let my body ease down the wall where I’ll stay to make sure she’s all right.

There is no place else I’d rather be, anyway.





I DRIVE INTO the entrance of Cannon Beach, the salty ocean air wafting in through the open window. A lightness fills my chest as if a small amount of weight has been lifted. I feel more like myself—my old self that is.