Greyson
Stifling the laughter that’s trying to escape me as I look up at Sherry in her Smurf outfit, I pat the cushion next to me, inviting her to join me. Her eyes are still pink and puffy, almost as if she’s been crying for days. I know this isn’t the case, but if someone were to walk in here right now, they’d think otherwise. Her swollen lips are plump and call for me to grab her by the back of the neck to pull her closer to taste them. I push that thought away, and instead of acting on impulse, I say the only thing I can think of at the moment. “Pizza will be here in about thirty or so minutes. Can I get you some water? I don’t know what you have or like?”
“Thanks, and I’m okay,” she says in a lower voice than I’ve heard before. When I take a chance to glance over in her direction, I notice that she’s playing with a loose thread on the bottom of her shirt. This simple act mesmerizes me into watching. She wraps the thread around her pinky until it no longer flips around the skin. Just as fast as she does that, she unravels it only to repeat the same process. I cock my head up to take in her facial features. I have to wonder if she mentally knows what she’s doing as she sits in a trance. The air around us has shifted into that awkward silence. Not even voices from the TV play through the space. As much as I want to get to know her, I’m also fine just sitting here taking her in. The way her platinum hair rests upon her shoulders, her once before porcelain skin blotchy from the reaction she had, and not to mention the way her crystal eyes roam my body when she acts like she’s not looking at me.
“Want to watch TV?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Oh, yeah … Okay,” her voice is weak and unsure if she answered appropriately. I watch as she leans forward, the material of her pants tightening against her rear and giving me the perfect view of the ass that I want to squeeze.
“What do you want to watch? I’m not big on anything, so you pick,” she says while handing me the remote. I’m not sure what’s on, but would like the background noise to try to drown out the silence. I flip the guide on and come across some travel show that I think will suffice for the both of us. Setting the remote down between us, I turn toward Sherry and prop my arm up on the back of the cushion.
“Real estate, huh?”
“What?”
“Okay, apparently the drugs are kicking in… Let’s try this again, so, you’re in real estate?”
“I am now.” Her voice is laced with embarrassment as if she’s ashamed of this profession, and it causes me to want to dig more into why.
“You don’t sound so happy with this choice? Do you not like it?”
“It’s not what I went to school for, but it’ll allow me to have a job and a good paying one, one day.
“What did you go to school for?”
“To become a registered nurse.” She says this as if they are the same thing. Selling houses and sticking an IV into someone’s arm is ranked in the same profession.
“Why don’t you do it then?” I ask as if it’s the simplest question. Kind of like why drink a beer when you really want a rum and coke. Sherry re-positions herself so she’s facing me. “Have you met me? I’m a walking disaster.”
“Oh, I’m aware of this, but seriously—why?”
“Failed my national exam and walked away from it all.”
“How did you fail? I have a hard time believing this story.”
‘Simple, I fell asleep and since I have a habit of doing that I walked away from it. At least now I stay busy, and when I feel like I might slip into a coma, I walk around or take a walk outside. June, my boss, is helping me study for my exam, and I just hope I can keep my eyes open.”
“Have you been to see a doctor about this? There has to be something they can do. I know plenty of people who have the same disorder as you, and they manage.”
Sherry’s head tilts to one side, her lips pursing as she studies me. I’m not sure which part of my statement she’s confused by, but she’s examining me like she’s trying to gauge what my response will be when she answers. Just as I’m about to ask again, a knock from the other side of the door startles us both.
“I got it,” she says, jumping up from the sofa and almost tripping on her own two feet. Over the past few days, I’ve noticed that she’s not as clumsy as most people would think. It’s the fact that whatever she’s taking, or not taking, is causing her body to sleepwalk. There have been times that I’ve caught quick glances of her and take in how she seems to be asleep but upright. Not to mention, the type of reaction she had today is something that needs to go down in the books. In the past four years of residency, I don’t think I’ve witnessed this type of magnitude. The weirder thing is neither her nor Ava seem to take caution with it. I must’ve gone through her file a hundred times, searching for what could cause this only to come up empty. It’s not mandatory that you tell your GYN everything, but if you’re on certain medication it should be noted in the file. Even if she’d told my father what she takes, I could research it.
Sherry drops the pizza box on the coffee table, bringing me out of my fog. “Want something to drink? I know it’s my turn to ask you?”
“Sure, but sit and let me get it for us,” I say as I stand. When my body rises, I notice how close we are. I linger for a few seconds longer than I should. Breaking away, I head to the kitchen and find us both a bottle of water. I’d kill for a beer, but don’t want to head upstairs to retrieve one. Coming around the corner, I notice that Sherry is sitting Indian style on the sofa, shoving a slice of pizza in her mouth. I’m pretty sure I might have heard a whimper, but I can’t be for certain. I shimmy my hips a little, adjusting myself before I sit. Seems that I’m not the only one who heard that whimper.
“This was a great idea.” Her voice is muffled from the pizza she’s still chewing.
“Glad you approve,” I respond as I grab a slice and sit back to admire her from afar.
We sit in silence, enjoying a slice of heaven. I’ve never seen a woman eat as many slices as Sherry just did. I ordered the extra-large size, thinking I would have some leftover for later…Nope … It’s all gone as we both sit back and let out a full gulp of air. “I’d say someone was hungry?”
“I love pizza … Carbs are my weakness,” she states as she stretches her arms above her head to stretch.
“Yes, but not many ladies will eat like you just did in front of a guy.”
“Good thing I’m not your typical lady, because I love food.”
“Good thing indeed,” I say softly, hoping that it was low enough for only my ears to hear. Sherry doesn’t respond, but that doesn’t mean anything. I hear the mid-tone yawn come from her direction. Instantly, I slide the blanket off the back of the sofa and pat the cushion next to me.
“I’m good here, but we can share the blanket if you’re cold?”
“Nope, I’m good,” I say with a little disappointment in my voice.
I try to focus on the TV, but every now and then I cut my eyes toward her. She’s curled up, leaning into the arm of the sofa with the blanket pulled up to her chin. Her eyes fall then open back as soon as she notices them shutting. “Get some rest,” I say as I lift my legs up to the table, folding my hands in my lap to make myself comfortable. Before long I hear soft snores and purrs coming from her direction. I look over and notice how peaceful she looks like this, minus the blotchy skin that seems to be taking its time to clear. It appears that two of her cats have found their way to her. One in her lap, and one right behind her head. Sitting here with her, I’m content. Almost as if this is where I should be every night—sitting here with the hot mess next to me.