“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say,” she said. I could hear the smile in her voice. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore. I haven’t been up long enough to know any more than that.” Slowly unfolding myself from the bed, I tested my balance before standing and walking into my bathroom to peer into the mirror. I groaned at what I saw.
“What’s wrong?”
“Ugh, I look like I was in a bar fight.”
“Yeah, well, it was worse than a bar fight. Jake was involved.”
“Jake. I really don’t like him,” I grumbled and turned to look at the damage from another angle. It didn’t get any better no matter which way I turned.
Muriel laughed. “Gee, I don’t know why. He seems to love you.”
“I wish he wouldn’t share his love so much.”
“So how bad is it on a scale of I’ll-be-at-school-tomorrow to there’s-no-freaking-way-I’ll-be-at-school?”
“Um, I’d say it’s somewhere on the there’s-no-way-in-hell-I’ll-be-at-school-soon scale,” I answered.
“I was afraid of that. I’ll get your assignments from your classes and bring them over tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Muriel.”
We hung up shortly after that. I’d just disconnected the line when my phone rang again.
I punched the answer key on my cell. “What now?”
“What?” Xavier asked.
“Hey, Xavier. Nothing. I thought you were Muriel.”
“Oh, do you need to go?”
“Nope,” I said with a smile.
“How are you feeling?”
I sighed. “That seems to be the question of the day.”
“And the answer that goes with the question?”
“I’ve definitely felt better,” I admitted.
“How’s it look?”
I ran my fingers over the area and cringed. “Black, purple, and very, very swollen.”
“Yeah, it was swelling up pretty bad last night. I figured you’d be downright deformed this morning.”
I burst out laughing. “Ow, don’t make me laugh.” I held my hand against the side of my head. The pounding in my skull felt like a pickaxe was hacking away in there.
“Sorry. Do you feel like company?”
No. Yes. Hell, I don’t know.
“I don’t think so, not today anyway. My head is killing me,” I answered.
“Okay, I didn’t think you would.”
My phone vibrated in my hand. “Hold on just a sec,” I said before pulling the phone from my ear and reading the text that just came through.
Muriel: What’s Xavier doing sitting outside your house?
I sighed. At least he asked before knocking on the door.
“Listen,” Xavier continued, “I’m going to hang up now so you can get some rest. Keep ice on that eye, bruiser.” He chuckled.
I smiled at the nickname. “I will. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure. Bye, Milayna.”
I disconnected the call and dialed Muriel. “Is he still there?” I asked as soon as she picked up the phone.
“No, he just drove away. What was that all about?”
“He wanted to come over. I told him I didn’t feel like company, but I didn’t know he was sitting outside in his car. I would have let him in… maybe. I don’t know.”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” Muriel said.
“How do you know?”
“Because you didn’t tell him to come in after you knew he was there, that’s how. Probably because he isn’t the one you want taking care of you.”
“Maybe.”
“You know I’m right,” she sang.
I yanked my robe on. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter, does it? Even if it is Chay I want sitting next to me today, he doesn’t want to be here.”
“Wow,” she whispered.
“What now?”
“There’s a ridiculously huge flower arrangement bobbing up your front stairs right now.”
“Who’s carrying it?” I bit the inside of my lower lip, waiting for her answer.
“Who are you hoping is?”
“Just tell me,” I snapped.
“The florist.”
“Oh.” That wasn’t who I was hoping for.
The doorbell sang through the house.
“I got it,” Benjamin yelled, his bare feet thudding across the hardwood floor. “Milayna,” Ben called. “It’s for you.”
I padded down the stairs and found the front door hanging open. A huge vase of flowers sat on the floor just inside, and a man holding a clipboard stood staring at me.
I twiddled my fingers in a small wave. “Hi.”
“Milayna Jackson?” The man smiled at me.
“That’s me.”
“Then these are for you.” He motioned toward the flowers. “If you’d just sign here.” He pointed to a line on the clipboard and handed me a pen. I scribbled my name across the page. “Here you go.” He lifted the vase off the floor and held them out to me.
“Thanks.”
“Have a nice day.” He trotted down the stairs to his bright green delivery van. I watched him drive away, gray smoke billowing out the tailpipe.
Balancing the vase on one hip, I closed the front door before carrying the flowers to the kitchen table. I put the vase in the center and stepped back to look at it. The flowers were beautiful. Red and pink roses mixed with lilies and fern fronds. A giant white bow circled the vase, with a card attached to it. The sweet scent of rose petals filled the room.
“Who are those from?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t looked at the card yet,” I answered my dad.
“Why not?”