Adam laughs again. “That’s my girl.”
Leah talks back into the phone. “Okay, baby, let me go. I have to get this lazy ass out of bed or else she’ll sleep the day away.”
Leah lets out a loud air kiss and Adam does the same before they hang up. With her knees still on the bed, she rocks back and forth making the bed move beneath me. “Let’s drink espresso and eat croissants. You’ll feel like new in no time.”
I look up from the sheets I pulled over my head. She is dressed in a denim miniskirt and a white peasant shirt. Her hair is blown out in her signature bob but the front is pulled up in a mini poof and secured to her head with a red barrette. Her pale eyes are light and bright; a far cry from what she should be looking like this morning after drinking her weight in lemon oil and sugar.
“Ten more minutes,” I plead.
“Nope.” She lifts the sheets off my body. “We have an island to explore.”
“We’re gonna be here for seven more days.” My voice is starting to get back its natural characteristics. More feminine, less mannish.
“And I don’t want to waste a second. Now, get out of bed and spend my honeymoon with me!”
I peer up from her with vulture eyes. She really knows how to guilt trip me.
I bang my fists on the bed and get up, not before getting my bearings and making sure the room isn’t spinning. When I’m sure the ground is even, I straighten my back and walk to the bathroom.
There’s a shower, a stall and a sink for two in here. Since the bathtub is near the bed, there is plenty room for a large shower made for—you got it—two. I head straight into the shower and let the hot water hit my head and my back until I feel normal again.
Out of the shower, I wrap my body in a towel and dry my hair over the double vanity made of rock. Like, literal rock that is jutting out of the mountain. It’s crazy cool.
Looking at my reflection I see a girl who looks like Leah but so very different. Our faces are fairly similar. Almond-shaped eyes, nice noses, and a heart-shaped face. But that’s where the similarities end. Where her eyes are blue, mine are a light brown. She has Dad’s eyes; I have Mom’s. Leah also has this adorable cupid mouth that bows at the top. Yeah, mine doesn’t do that at all.
And while Leah’s hair is almost white, my hair is an ashy color. It’s the kind of hair that’s too dark to be called blonde but absolutely not brown. It’s just ashy.
Some people say I should get highlights but my schedule was always too busy to spend hours at a salon. When you’ve been playing the violin since you were ten, there isn’t much your life offers in the form of time. If I wasn’t at school, doing homework, or grooming my career, I was practicing.
Well, now that that dream has died, I guess I have time to change my hair.
I look down at my right hand and flip it over repeatedly, flexing the nerve. Biting at my jaw, I look back up at myself in the mirror and continue to get ready. I don’t want to think about that right now.
“She’s doing fine.” Leah is in our room talking to someone. I turn the sink water on low and prop my ear to the door to listen in on her conversation. “Yes, Mom, she’s out of bed and in the shower . . . yes . . . yes . . . I’m making sure she’s eating.”
Being thousands of miles away from my family doesn’t seem to change anything.
“She thought I didn’t notice but she didn’t want to be out last night. She was a trooper. She’s trying.” Leah’s voice is so hushed; I have to strain against the door to hear her muffled words. “I have her meds just in case.”
My stomach rolls at the thought of those damn pills, which I spent three months on. I didn’t know I was depressed. I just thought I was sad.
And tired. So very, very tired.