Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“I mean, I’m here, aren’t I?” Parker says. “It’s at least a little bit about me.”
Grateful for a break in being the focus of attention, I change, pack up my gear, and am ready to roll by the time Blue’s done giving Parker a pithy lecture about knowing when to embrace main character energy.
We grab wings and beer at a place near the hotel and carefully avoid talking about my personal life. We talk about Blue’s art class, Parker’s parents’ increasingly messy divorce, the new merch the Voodoo is rolling out to celebrate our winning streak, and the best places to get a Shrimp Po’ Boy by the airport.
Parker’s craving one, but doesn’t want to have to go all the way into the city center.
All I’m craving is for this night to hurry up and be over already so I can go to sleep and be that much closer to sorting things out with Elly.
We can sort this out. I know we can.
Or, at least I really hope so.
I go to sleep with hope and wake up to news that our flight’s been delayed due to storms in the southeast. We waste the entire day in the airport, bouncing back and forth between the lounge and the gate as our flight is scheduled then delayed, scheduled then delayed. I keep in touch with Elly via text, but I’m too nervous to call. I have a shit poker face, especially with people I love. She’d be able to see that something’s off, and I won’t be able to put her mind at ease from North Carolina.
We need to have this talk in person. I don’t know much for sure right now, but that feels like an absolute necessity.
By the time we finally take off, the sky is already growing dark, but still, I’ll be home by eight-thirty, nine at the latest. That’s not too late to have a serious talk, and if all goes well, we’ll be able to head to bed after and celebrate getting all our shit out in the open.
Instead, I arrive home to find the house quiet and dark and my big bed disturbingly empty.
Starting to get worried, I check on Mimi first, some of the tension easing from my chest when I see her sprawled across her bed, sleeping soundly. Elly would never leave the house while Mimi’s asleep, so she has to be somewhere.
I find her a moment later, in her bed, curled up in a ball with a rag on her forehead.
“Hey,” I murmur from the doorway. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” she croaks, wincing as she swallows. “I started feeling yucky yesterday. I thought it was just a touch of food poisoning or something, but now, I think it might be a bug. So, I decided to sleep in here. I don’t want to get you sick.”
“I don’t mind,” I say, meaning it, though I probably should mind. I can’t really afford to get sick with another game in three days. “I’d rather be close in case you need anything. Medicine or fresh ice water. Whatever.”
She shakes her head, wincing again, like moving hurts. “No, please. I don’t want to make anyone else feel like this. I’ve been keeping my distance from Mimi as best I can, too. I have electrolyte water and medicine and stuff. Hopefully, I’ll feel better in the morning. I just…need to try to sleep it off, I think.”
“Okay,” I say. “But let me know if you need anything, okay? Just text me. I’ll keep my phone on and by the bed.”
Her lips curve in a pained smile. “Okay. Night. Thank you. Glad you finally got home safe.”
I am, too, and as I gently shut the door, I’m way more concerned about my girl being sick as a dog than I am about the things we need to talk about. As soon as I set eyes on her again, the fear started to fade. Because she’s my person, my ride or die, and we’re going to get through this.
We have to.
Nothing else makes sense.
I go to bed feeling sure everything’s going to be all right, only to be awoken at two a.m. by a hysterical Mimi with tears pouring down her face, shaking my shoulder as she says, “Wake up, Gee. Mama’s sick on the floor and won’t wake up! Come on, we have to save Mama!”
Chapter
Twenty-Five
ELLY
Once, when I was about seven, my family went to a beach BBQ party in Alabama with some of Papa Jim’s friends from work. There were tons of kids to play with, endless plates food, and plenty of beer for the grown-ups.
Papa Jim wasn’t a problem drinker, by any stretch, but he enjoyed a day in the sun with a few beers and hey—Mama was driving.
She’d offered on the way down. Alcohol made her sleepy, and she didn’t want to zonk out on a towel in front of Papa’s work friends and all their wives and kids. And, of course, she always kept a sharp, sober eye on me when we were anywhere near water.