Chapter 24
Marissa
After brushing my teeth the next morning, I briefly debate opening the window and screaming for all Rat Park to hear, “Hawk and I kissed last night!!!!”
But I don’t.
Instead, I whisper to my son, “I think this is the start of something significant. You like Hawk, don’t you?”
DJ nods like he understands everything, and we whisper and giggle our way downstairs. All the elation drains from my body when I spot a tired, unshaven Hawk sitting at the kitchen table.
“Good morning,” I say as my heart thumps against my ribcage, screaming, Danger! Danger!
“Marissa,” Hawk says hoarsely. “You’re up.”
I nod weakly, then make my way towards DJ’s high chair.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Sure,” I say, desperate to appear casual. “What’s up?”
Unaware that our world is about to come crashing down, DJ happily waves his little legs as I buckle him in.
“Last night…”
I sink into the chair closest to me as my legs go numb. I lean an elbow on the table for stability.
“It was a mistake,” Hawk continues cruelly. “I was vulnerable after spending time with the babies and… It’s a bad idea, you and me.”
“Oh.” That’s all I manage before having to bite the inside of my cheek.
No crying, I tell myself. Don’t you dare cry!
“We’re in different places in life. I’m sure you agree. But seeing as we crossed a line last night, I think it would be best if you and DJ found other living arrangements.”
Someone starts knocking on the front door, and it makes DJ cry. The room is suddenly very hot.
Hawk is still talking, but all I hear is the persistent knocking and DJ’s wails.
I look down at my hands. Why am I shaking this much?
“Marissa! Marissa!”
I open my eyes to Hawk frantically shaking me. I’m in my bed, and poor DJ is screaming his head off in his crib.
I quickly sit up, but it’s a mistake. The whole room tilts.
My muscles are spasming, and my teeth are clicking against each other.
Hawk doesn’t take his eyes off me as he rescues DJ from his baby prison.
“Sorry that I came into your room without permission, but DJ wouldn’t stop crying, and I was worried ’cause I couldn’t hear you soothing him like you usually do. Besides, it’s almost 9. I didn’t know what to do.”
The mattress dips as he sits down next to me. Hawk’s cool palm feels so much better than the hair that was sticking to my forehead.
“Shit, you’re burning up,” he says and presses his lips together. “Okay. Okay. I’ll take DJ downstairs to wait for Molly, and I’ll get you some medicine. Then call Red. And Doc. Just… hang in there for a few minutes, can you do that for me, baby?”
He’s already heading for the door, but his eyes are still trained on me. I don’t want to disappoint him. Answering this question seems really important, so with the last of my strength, I nod.
“Be right back,” he says, and I drift off again.
A wet cloth on my face wakes me.
I hate it. I scrunch up my whole face and mumble my protests.
“Okay, okay, it’s over. I stopped. Do you want to sit up for a bit?”
“No,” I say, but he still pulls me up.
I shake my head as the duvet falls down to my waist. I’m wearing only my sleeping tank, and where I’d normally worry about him seeing my saggy, braless boobs, I honestly can’t be bothered right now. Not when I’m dying.
My throat hurts. I try clearing it, but that makes it even worse.
Hawk hands me a thermometer and then busies himself with opening a bottle of Tylenol. After the thermometer beeps, he takes it from me, all business-like.
He could be a doctor, I think, as I squint and imagine him with a white coat. A hot, frowning doctor.
“102.4,” he says as he hands me two pills and a glass of orange juice. “How are you feeling?”
“Like death,” I say dramatically, even after the cold juice has soothed my throat a bit. “Where’s DJ?”
Hawk takes my hand in his. “I’m sorry. The medicine should help soon.
DJ is playing downstairs. I have to go to work now, but I’ll check in with Molly to see how you’re doing.
Doc will be coming over any minute.” He blows out a breath and runs his hand over his head.
“Maybe I shouldn’t leave you alone while you’re sick. ”
Now my stupid nose hurts too. I take a few deep breaths. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m not alone. DJ and Molly are downstairs.”
After listening to my lungs, looking inside my throat, and palpating the glands on the sides of my neck, Doc informs me it’s most likely a cold and recommends rest, fluids, and 2 Tylenol every 6 hours.
The pills soon put me in a deep, sweaty sleep.
A knock on the door wakes me.
“Did I wake you up? Sorry,” Molly tells me apologetically from the doorway. “DJ is napping in his playpen, so I wanted to see how you were doing and whether you needed anything.”
She’s wearing black skinny jeans and a black T-shirt with the word Intifada printed in big white letters on her chest. I wonder what that means.
“I’m okay. I don’t want you getting sick, so you better stay there.”
Molly laughs. “I never get sick. Now, what do you need?”
I blink several times. “A clean top from my closet if you don’t mind.”
She turns to get it, and on the back of her T-shirt I see a flag that I don’t recognize. The stripes are black, white, and green, and there’s a red triangle on the left.
“Thanks.”
“Thank you! This way, when Hawk calls me again, I’ll be able to tell him I helped you with something,” she says with a teasing grin before heading back downstairs.
I change out of my sweat-soaked tank, drink half of one of the water bottles Hawk left on my nightstand, and, with great difficulty, manage to get to the bathroom.
When I come back out, Hawk is in my room, unpacking some food.
He immediately jumps up to help me back to bed.
“Thanks,” I say as I let myself sink into the support.
I could cry at the relief of his strong, steady arms.
“I figured we could eat lunch together.”
My face must be showing exactly what I’m thinking, because he adds, “It’s soup. Doc said you need to up your fluid intake.”
I want to whine, But I’m not hungry!, and it surprises me. Where the hell is the brattiness coming from?
It’s not like I’m someone who’s used to being spoiled rotten. Hell, even after giving birth to a whole 9-pound baby or being kidnapped, no one has fussed over me the way this man is doing because of the common cold.
Hawk hands me a bowl of steaming tomato soup, and we start eating in silence. My insides are gradually warming up. Every time I look at him, he gives me an encouraging smile and nods at my bowl, urging me to eat more.
The kindness and care crack my heart open. Like a pomegranate that’s dropped on a tile floor, and all its brilliant insides start spilling out.
A few tears ripple the surface of my soup, and before I know it, I’m bawling. Then, the bowl is gone from my hands, and I’m haphazardly arranged on Hawk’s lap, soaking his work shirt with snot and tears.
I cry loudly and helplessly, the way DJ does when he’s upset but knows I’m there to comfort him.
“Feel better?” Hawk asks me when my sobs die down, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
I play with his lanyard as he strokes my hair.
“I do. This helped. Thank you.”
“Happy to be of service.”
“When do you have to go back to work?”
“Not for a while,” he says, and I relax into his arms.
When I wake up, the clock reads 7, but I don’t know if it’s AM or PM. My head is clear, my joints stiff but no longer achy.
I take my pills, pee, wash my face and brush my gross teeth, then run a comb through my hair.
As I gingerly walk downstairs, I hear Hawk talking to DJ, and then he sings a bit. His pitch is awful, and I stifle a laugh. I’m secretly thrilled that there is something that he doesn’t do well.
“And now you need to sleep. We have to be good for Mama, okay? She’s ill today, and she needs to rest.”
“Hey, you guys,” I announce my presence, and DJ starts babbling like crazy at the sight of me. “Oh, I missed you, too,” I tell him as I take him into my arms. “We should get you some dinner.”
“He’s already eaten,” Hawk tells me matter-of-factly. “Mashed potatoes and a few slices of avocado. I offered him some salmon, but he refused. He then had his bottle, brushed his teeth, and we were about to go get his jammies. No bath, I don’t think I’ve graduated to that yet.”
“How…”
“We’ve lived together for a while now. I watch his routine every day,” Hawk tells me, sounding almost offended. “Now, thanks to our nosy neighbours, we have a pot of chicken noodle soup, a pan of lasagna, and two casseroles in the fridge, so I’ll reheat whichever one you’d like for your dinner.”
I frown. “What neighbors?”
“Molly told Dana, Doc told Red, Red told Bev, Bev told everyone. About you being sick,” he explains.
“And they brought food?”
“Of course,” he frowns. “That’s what people do, isn’t it?”
As Hawk walks around the kitchen, I notice that he is wearing his gym shorts. His thighs are massive.
He looks so… powerful. While heating up soup in the microwave.
I never found a man's thighs attractive before. I almost want to laugh at myself.
Who am I kidding? It’s Hawk. Everything about him is attractive.
“Thanks for taking such good care of me today,” I tell him as I snuggle DJ.
“You’re more than welcome. You’re mine to take care of,” he replies with a smile, then grows serious. “You are, aren’t you?”
I steel myself to meet his eyes.
“I am,” I say bravely, and he rewards me with a bright smile.
I can’t help but mirror it.
“This morning, I was worried you were avoiding me because of our kiss,” he admits while I eat.
“Why would I? It was a very good kiss.”
“I’m glad you think so,” he tells me with a pointed look, and I shyly look away.
He laughs, and I think my heart is going to pop like a balloon.
After dinner, he walks us to our room, then hands me my son, and we just stare at each other for a while. He leans his forearm against the wall and watches us like we’re the most precious thing in the world, even though I’m sure I look like death.
“Good night, Randy,” I whisper, and a smile tugs at his lips.
“Night, Althea,” he whispers back, and then looks like he’s hesitating.
I pray, God, please, let him kiss me again, but he only gives me a peck on the cheek and turns to his own room.
I sag against the closed door. I’m such a lovesick idiot.