Beatriz dabbed on some cream and then taped thin gauze over it. “The gauze will prevent snagging and other stuff growing into the scab as it heals, but still allow it to breath. We should change it again before the end of the day.”
I nodded, sweat beading on my upper lip. Rest of the day? I wanted to go home and curl in a little ball and curse whoever taught Beatriz first aid.
“Come on,” she said tossing her supplies back into her bag. “We need to go get a pass.”
Motivating my shaky limbs, I followed her out of the bathroom not looking back at Morik. He’d looked barely contained. Less acknowledgment probably suited the situation.
After the sting of the peroxide and other chemicals she’d liberally applied wore off, the mark began to feel… okay. Still hot and uncomfortable, but not as bad. When she suggested we change the bandage again after the last bell rang, I didn’t protest. The process went quickly with little discomfort and no reappearance of Morik.
We stepped out into the afternoon light together. Most of the buses began their slow crawl toward the main exit.
Amidst the slush-filled parking lot, I spotted Morik leaning against his motorcycle. The day, just a hair above freezing, didn’t inspire excitement for a motorcycle ride. Or maybe my back didn’t inspire one.
Beatriz, ever the helpful, whispered, “Can Morik give me a ride home since I missed the bus?” Across the distance, I caught his slight nod.
“I’m sure he can. I’d rather walk,” I admitted.
“I figured.” She grinned and took off her jacket. Smiling we traded. She skipped down the steps toward him.
He lifted my helmet, offering it to her when she approached. Beatriz played it for what it was worth and lifted her chin in a bid for him to put it on for her.
I shook my head amused by her and started home. The winter air ran its frosty fingers over my exposed skin. At first, I welcomed the touch. By the time I spotted my house, my cheeks flushed with cold, I no longer enjoyed being outdoors.
Morik’s motorcycle sat in the driveway and I knew he cheated to beat me home. He opened the door as I stepped onto the front walk. His eyes, swirling with yellow, followed my progress and I managed a reassuring smile that probably lacked luster.
“Bea get home okay?”
He nodded and stood aside to let me pass. Helping me from my jacket, he leaned close and whispered. “I never want to feel your pain again.” His voice shook with emotion.
I never wanted to feel my pain again either. As soon as I freed my arms from the sleeves, I wrapped them around his waist. He gingerly embraced me in return.
“I’m okay,” I promised, enjoying the feel of his hard chest under my cheek.
Gran cleared her throat nearby.
Lifting my head, reluctantly, I met her amused gaze.
“Not much time to do homework,” she noted.
On the off chance I actually lived beyond seventeen, I really did need to keep my grades up. Sighing, I loosened my hold on Morik and drifted over to the table. Morik helped Gran finish dinner preparations while I worked through calculus.
Each time I looked up, I found his focus not the food he prepared, but on me. I enjoyed his attention. With him, I didn’t feel desperate or trapped like I did with many of the boys my age. Probably because I knew any serious time with me could kill them. Morik represented hope for a future that didn’t involve my husband’s imminent death. Thinking of him in terms of a husband gave me a moment’s pause.
My focus drifted away from my textbook and the words on the page danced chaotically. Each generation Belinda’s line produced at least one child. If I successfully chose Morik, it completed the deal. It should then mean additional descendants to my line were no longer needed. But were they wanted? I recalled his reaction when he’d misunderstood what I meant when I asked what more he wanted before Christmas and drifted once again into confusing relationship territory.
Morik met my curious gaze when I looked up. Ask or don’t ask… I considered the very real possibility of a short life and decided to go for it.
“Will we… Do you…” I had his complete attention. He titled his head at me as I hesitated trying to figure out how to word my question. “I mean… are we going to have kids?”
Gran turned slowly her mouth slightly opened in surprise. Her gaze played ping pong between the two of us.
Morik’s eyes darkened. He didn’t move at first and I felt decidedly uncomfortable. Maybe I’d found a line. Unsure how to take the question back, I sat there slowly turning a lovely shade of crimson.
Finally, he reached up and ran his fingertips along one of his horns. “Given our differences, I think it unwise to attempt such a thing.”
Gran’s color matched my own. I’d keep any further questions to myself.
He blinked himself beside me, leaning close to my ear. “Having you is enough for me,” he assured me in a whisper and kissed the tender skin just below my ear.