5 - Samantha
Monday morning, I textKatrice, one of the girls on the Yearbook staff with me, to let her know I’m not able to make it to school today. I want to make sure she takes her camera to class because it’s the first day of Spirit Week and I won’t be there to help. So many memories to capture! In my speculation, bright floral shirts, grass skirts and flower leis around everyone’s neck will be the scene of the day because it’s Hawaiian Day. What a way to kick off Spirit Week!
Besides feeling bad because I’m sick, I’m pretty bummed at the fact I’m not going to get to use the outfit I put together. I usually try to take part in most school activities and this is no exception. I have a different outfit planned for every day this week. For Hawaiian Day, I had a t-shirt with a picture of a woman’s torso wearing a bikini top on it. I also had a few flower leis to wear around my neck that I made myself. They’re made of silk and plastic, and they match the flower clip I was going to wear in my hair. Of course, most of the flowers I chose are orange because our school colors are orange and black. They range in shades from sunset orange to tangerine and even a few pumpkins, but they look great with the grass skirt I made. Cynthia’s going to wear the same flowers, but she has a wraparound dress that ties on one hip that she likes better than the grass skirt idea.
I have to rely on Katrice and the others in my Yearbook club to get good enough photographs. Oh well. I’ll be able to enjoy everyone’s outfits that way, and cross my fingers that I’ll feel well enough to see my classmates in person the next day. Besides, Tuesday is Twin Day and I’m supposed to dress up with Cynthia. Who knows, maybe I’ll get lucky enough to take an accidental picture of Phillip too.
As if she knows I’m thinking about her, Cyn sends me a text.
Cyn:Hey bestie, feeling better?
Hanging in there
Cyn:Here’s a few pics to cheer you up, I’ll call later XO
She sends some pretty wacky photos and I catch myself laughing out loud for the first time today. She knows how to cheer me up.
Later on, I look at the clock and realize that the school day is letting out across town. I know Cynthia will still be awhile because she has Drama club after school on Mondays. If she doesn’t have plans with Knox, she’ll be over later.
My doorbell rings. She can’t be home yet. Can she? I look at the watch on my wrist and warily walk to the door. When I open it, my mouth hangs wide open for a moment while my manners lapse into a delayed reaction. I catch myself and quickly speak but I fumble through my sentence.
“H...uh, hey.” I put a hand up in a half wave then drop it to my side. “Where’s um, I mean what’s going on?” Could I sound any more ridiculous? Is there any articulation in my future? My hot neighbor is standing there and his brown eyes are wide and full of questions.
“You weren’t in school today. Are you alright?” Phillip’s thoughtful demeanor is rigid with concern. I wonder how long he’s been thinking about coming to check on me. His Hawaiian shirt and khakis lead me to believe he must have considered it for some time because he didn’t waste time going home to change first. Instead, he came straight here. Did he need to see me that badly?
“I’ve had better days.” I close the door behind me then step over to my porch swing. I’m a little caught off guard. The last person I expected to see today is Phillip, but he’s here, asking how I’m doing, and well, it feels a little surreal.
“You’ve had better days?” He repeats my words. I nod in agreement but apparently, he’s seeking a better explanation. “That’s all? I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, Samantha, but you look terrible, and when you weren’t in school today, I got worried.”
Again, I’m amazed. I’ve been friends with his sister for years, but Phillip never seemed to pay too much attention before. I shift uncomfortably, hoping to change the subject.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d speak to me again.”
Phillip looks tormented. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I slammed the door in your face the other day.”
“Oh that.” Phillip chuckles, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, the tormented look melting away. “That didn’t bother me.”
My cheeks quickly prick with a mild stinging sensation. Embarrassment taunts me while nausea warns me to keep my conversation short, but I press on. “But me being absent did bother you?”
Phillip sits down beside me. The slight jostle of the swing adjusting to the added weight nearly sends my volatile stomach over the edge, but I concentrate on a crack in the porch to recover.
“Yes,” he confirms. “It bothered me. A lot, ok?”
I reach out my hand to touch his arm. I want him to know I appreciate him thinking of me. I smile, my lips pressing into a thin line, and he manages a concerned smile back but his eyebrows are still creased with worry.
“I should apologize. I guess I didn’t realize you’d be worried. My meds are being horrible this time. I gave my doctor a call and they’re switching me back to the previous ones for now. I haven’t been able to hold much down today. And I’m just so tired.”
My voice falls away like that’s supposed to be some sort of real explanation, when really, it’s only the tip of the iceberg.
“You don’t have to apologize.”
My expression changes as soon as the flip in my stomach happens. I fly up from the porch swing and, again, run inside. This time, I accidently left the bathroom door open as well as the front door, and in a few seconds, Phillip’s at my side.
“You don’t need to see this,” I choke out. My face is in the commode as my shaky hand searches for the handle. He grabs a hand towel off the rack and wets it with cool water, then gently places a hand on my back, the warmth of it spreading along my skin. I sit up, wiping back my loose strands of hair as he touches the cool cloth to my face.
“I can handle it.” His eyes look me over checking for anything else wrong. I feel slightly weak and dizzy and I must have swayed a little because next thing I know, Phillip has his hands at my waist steadying me.
“I think I should sit down. It’s not usually this bad. I’m so sorry. This is humiliating.” I can’t keep from getting sick while the cute guy from next door is at my house. Ugh! I can’t look him in the eyes.
“Samantha, please. Don’t apologize. You can’t help it.” He steadies me as we walk over to my couch. I slowly sit down and Phillip grabs a couple of pillows from the other chair to prop me up. He’s so attentive it’s adorable, but it embarrasses me just the same. If I was watching this in a movie, I would have reached for the Kleenex box and been touched by his gestures, but I can’t get past my humiliation for the moment.
“Thanks.”
Phillip strides across the room and gently closes the front door and then returns. “Why do I get the sense that something major is wrong?” He kneels down next to me, looking into my eyes for answers again. “Truth, Sam. What’s going on?”
I sigh in disgust. “This sucks. You shouldn’t be here watching me puke. It’s horrible.” My cheeks tingle with the onset of my next round of embarrassment.
“Is that what you’re worried about? I play football in Alabama. When we have 2- or 3-a-day practices in the dead of summer...guys get sick. I assure you, it’s worse than anything you just did.” He flashes a reassuring smile and I’m left with a mental image of the football team throwing up in their helmets. That makes me feel a little better. Not the mental picture he gave me, but it makes me feel better that he’s trying to console me. He’s being a pure southern gentleman. It”s a little unexpected, but feels nice. Just then, my phone rings. Slightly disoriented, I look around but remember it’s on the coffee table. Phillip hands it to me. His gaze, still filled with concern, holds sincerity.
“Hey Roxy. Uh-huh. No. I’m not holding anything down. I’m real shaky, but Phillip’s here so I’m ok. Yeah, he stopped by after school to check on me. Ok, see you in a bit.” I hang up and hand the phone back to Phillip. I’m so exhausted that suddenly it feels like a twenty-pound weight.
“Is it ok that I’m here? I don’t want you in trouble.” He brushes a strand of hair away from my forehead. I take his hand in mine. This brightens his expression and eases the anguish in his eyes and since he grabbed my hand the other day, I assume it’s acceptable.
“It’s fine. Roxy’s cool and she knows you, so don’t worry. All those times you cut her grass pays off finally.” I tried at a bad joke but he squeezes my hand and holds it, reminding me he’s waiting for an explanation. “Oh, right. Truth.” I draw an unsteady breath. “Just remember, you asked for it.”
He nods. “Yes, I know I did.” Brown orbs of compassion wait expectantly, staring back at me. I’m unable to look away, but rather than feeling like I’m on the spot, his eyes put me more at ease.
“I don’t tell just anyone,” I begin. Phillip nods, listening intently. “I’ve been sick for a while. The doctors detected a problem with my kidneys. There’s a name for it, but it’s ridiculous to pronounce. Anyway, instead of improving with medicine, my body likes to be a challenge.”
“Which is why you’re throwing up all the time. You’re not tolerating your meds,” Phillip adds, piecing the information together. He never lets go of my hand.
“Right.” I look down feeling ashamed. I’ve always just dealt with my illness because it sounds worse when I speak of it out loud. Verbalizing the reality just makes it suck that much worse.
“If you’re throwing up your medication, how is that helping your kidneys?”
My eyes meet his gaze again, and I smile a fake smile. “It’s not,” I answer bluntly. “I spoke to my doctor this morning and he’s temporarily switching me back to my old meds for now. But they’re not strong enough.” I stop short though because my stomach flips. My cheeks faithfully prick like usual and my forehead automatically creases.
“Sam?”
Quickly, I sit up, scooting closer to the edge of the couch cushion. I don’t want to get sick again. “Look, I’m not sure why I told you,” I admit, slumping my shoulders forward.
“Because I asked,” he reassures me. Just then his comforting features shift. “Are you ok?”
No time to answer. I sprint to the bathroom for one more round. And just as before, without asking, Phillip’s at my side. He’s quiet and attentive, allowing me to finish my heaving, while he focuses on holding my hair. The medicinal stomach bile has to be assaulting his senses but he never complains. Only silently, he helps me back to the couch and hands me the mints I keep next to my phone. I’m not sure what he could be thinking. Maybe I don’t want to know.
About fifteen minutes later, Roxy comes home. Phillip gets up when he hears her pull in to the driveway and holds the door for her. Again, he’s the southern gentlemen. I prop myself up better on the couch. I’m not as dizzy anymore, but weak and now have a headache brewing. Roxy greets us with slushies in her hands. I welcome the cool, icy drink as it soothes my raw throat.
“How bad this time?” Roxy persists. She probably assumes I explained to Phillip by now. He sits down by my feet on the couch listening intently.
“Six or seven times so far today...maybe more. I spoke with the doctor. He said not to take the new medication anymore. He called in the old one for now. I didn’t go to the pharmacy yet.” I shrug my wary shoulders then touch my wrist to my forehead.
“Brain freeze?” Phillip asks even though I had barely sipped my slushy.
“Headache.” Roxy answers. She goes to the kitchen cabinet to retrieve some medicine. In the drawer of the hutch, she grabs the blood pressure cuff we bought to monitor my blood pressure. I down the meds as she straps the cuff to my arm and pushes the button. It expands adding air, hugging my arm tightly. I can feel the thumps pulse down my arm. I look at Phillip but wait until the final reading before speaking.
“That explains your headache,” Roxy mutters. She looks at me and confirms, “It’s a little high tonight.” I guess she’s sparing Phillip the details of the numbers, because he looks worried again.
“Stay put and enjoy your slushy. Phillip, would you mind sitting with her while I run to the pharmacy?”
He smiles with half his mouth, exposing one dimple. “Yes ma’am, I can do that.”
“Thanks. No ma’am around here, remember? It’s Roxy.” She pats his shoulder before retreating back to her car. I take another sip of my slushy.
“Well, how’s this for a crash-course in my life?” I joke, although I’m a little concerned about Phillip. I wonder how many seconds it’ll be before he disregards what he told Roxy and bolts for the door. Maybe he’ll text his sister and make her take his place instead. But no, to my surprise he does just the opposite. He settles in, placing my feet in his lap.
“I don’t scare too easy.” He pauses to read my expression, and when he sees the relief in my eyes, he smiles again.
My worry fades. It’s nice having him there. I don’t know if this moment will last beyond the afternoon or not. Will he go home and let reality sink in? Will we remain friends or could it be possible that we might become more? I don’t know if I’m girlfriend material or not. How could I be? I mean, let’s face it, throwing up, taking medicine all the time, and doctor visits don’t equal much of a social life. But I still have hope that I will get better. The doctors could get the right medications figured out for me. I’d like this chance to be with Phillip, that is if he decides to consider it. I have decided that for now, I’ll enjoy this moment. I take another sip of my slushy and smile.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I finally admit.
“Me too.” Phillip smiles. “Hey, why did my sister tell me you were sensitive to food?”
“Well, ordinarily my story is that I blame the puking on food not agreeing with me or whatever. And I do have to watch my salt intake. Fats and proteins too, so it’s easier on my kidneys. It’s like a half-truth.”
“Samantha?” I like my name when he says it. “I’m glad you told me. I’m just sorry you’re going through this.” Phillip pauses thoughtfully for a moment before he reaches for my hand again. “It’ll be ok.”
I’m not sure what brings on his need to console me. I don’t even know why I actually told him the truth. What I do know is that my perfectly gorgeous neighbor, my best friend’s brother, is holding my hand and I’m not going to complain about it. If he says everything will be okay, well then, that gives me hope.