“It’s fine. I don’t want you missing commitments because of me.”
“You’re my only commitment today,” he whispers across my lips. I should be self-conscious about the eyes on us, but I can’t make myself care. We haven’t been all extreme PDA, but no one could miss that we’re together. Between the sex tape and the fallout from the public fight we had, discretion has become such a habit for me. I pull back a little, hating the heat in my cheeks under his knowing look and grin.
The day is waning into late afternoon by the time we’re all done. Stacks of Tupperware fill the small refrigerator in our kitchen once everyone has gone, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’m feeling every moment of this perfect day in my aching arms and legs. In my bones.
“I don’t need you to tuck me in.” I still can’t fight back a yawn when Rhyson pulls the cover up and bends to kiss my forehead. “But you could lie down with me.”
“You’ll go to sleep quicker without my erection poking you in the back.” He laughs at the face I make. “You know it’s true and I can’t help it.”
“Rhys, you could—”
“Go to sleep, Pep.” The smile falls from his face. “I’m afraid you overdid it today. Your meds will kick in soon, and you could use a nap.”
“Okay, but don’t let me sleep too long. There’s still some day left.”
My eyelids flutter and fall. I’ll never use the word “exhaustion” carelessly again because I’ve never felt this bone-deep level of fatigue, punctuated by moments when you literally cannot fight sleep. It overtakes you. And just as I’m about to try one more time to persuade Rhyson he should lie down with me, I’m pulled under.
An hour, two—I’m not sure how much later, I wake up with the saltiness of tears on my lips. It’s been a long time since I dreamt of my father, but he was in that dark well of fatigue I fell face first into. I don’t remember all the details, but his face was clear. The day I sat in his lap, and he told me about the deepest of loves was so clear I could feel him tugging my pigtails and see my lavender tutu puffing around my little eight-year-old legs. Feel the bite of my new ballet slippers. I loved him so much, and that was the last time he held me. Why his betrayal and abandonment should still make me cry in my sleep after fifteen years, I can’t understand.
I pull the sheet up to my face, wipe away the tears and toss my legs over the side of my bed, glad to find them less weak. The nap did me good, and maybe this surge of energy I feel is a mirage, but I’m pursuing it until it fades. I need to do something, and I know exactly where I want to do it.
“I’m going out to the work shed,” I tell Rhyson and Aunt Ruthie, both huddled on the couch watching television. Rhyson never watches television unless I make him, so I’m curious to see what has him looking so enthralled.
“We’ll be fine,” he says, eyes barely leaving the screen to flick to me and then back again.
“It’s awfully dusty out there, Kai.” Aunt Ruthie’s eyes remain fixed on the television, too, her words and attention absent. “Be careful. We’re just catching up on the shows I recorded.”
“What is this?” I step closer to the screen. “The Young and the Restless”? Are you kidding me, Rhys?”
“This stuff’s fantastic,” he says with a completely straight face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Um, because I haven’t watched soaps since high school?” I laugh and shake my head, dropping a quick kiss on the beautiful mess of his hair. “I’ll be out back if you manage to pull yourself away.”
“Uh huh.” Eyes back on the screen. This is so much fuel for me to tease him about later, I just let it go.
It’s going to rain. Crossing the backyard, the rain sends its scent ahead of the storm, and the air is heavy with it, caressing my face like warm velvet. The sun is setting, painting the horizon with one last explosion of color, the last vibrant glimpse of daylight.
Mama’s wind chimes still hang over the work shed door, and the slight breeze stirs them to sing a prelude for the storm. The door falls open, squeaking under my hand. Out of habit I thought I’d forgotten, my hand reaches blindly to the wall on my left, finding the light switch that doesn’t even have a faceplate anymore. The stale, unstirred air confirms that no one’s been here for a long time. I think everyone knew how special this place was to Mama, what a solace it proved to be, and after she was gone, just let it be.