27 - Samantha
Christmas break isover and I’m feeling better. I’ve gotten used to my dialysis regimen and my body is tolerating my medications. I still have my moments, and some days are better than others, but I’m back to functioning more normally. It’s refreshing and I welcome the change.
With my dialysis schedule, Phillip is insistent on driving me to school the days I have treatment. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday we leave school and go directly to dialysis. Each one takes about four hours. Mostly we study or finish homework during my treatments, but some days we watch a movie, read a book together, or take naps if I’m getting worn out. Occasionally, a mixture of all.
Once in a while, Cyn will come too, or Phillip will drop us off and pick us up later so we can have some girl time. His thoughtfulness exceeds its limitations most days. Knox even helps sometimes now that he knows about my illness. At first, I felt bad about that because it seemed like I claimed another life. Just one more person who felt obligated to take time out of their day for me. But it was a gift in disguise. It allows Phillip a much-needed break. I constantly worry about him. Probably as much as he worries about me. He is so selfless where I’m concerned. He will do anything and everything for me because he wants to. Sometimes I think maybe it’s therapeutic for him to be able to have some control. His dad controls everything else in his life. If it makes him feel good to help take care of me, then I’ll not deny him that privilege. But I still worry.
Tuesdays and Thursdays are left to Cynthia and me. Those days I drive us to and from school so the guys can do their weightlifting after. Weekends are strictly couple time. Knox and Cyn do things for themselves, and Phillip and I have our privacy as well.
We seem to have it all worked out. We’re back to school maintaining semi-normalcy. Even the slamming of the lockers, shuffling of papers and the endless chatter or lectures is enjoyable.
Basketball season has school spirit high on everyone’s agenda. There are plenty of opportunities for Yearbook staff to get great shots. I haven’t been to any basketball games yet because of my dialysis schedule. By the time I get through my four-hour treatment on Friday afternoons, I’m usually pretty tired. I don’t think my boyfriend will have fun in the bleachers with me falling asleep on his shoulder. However, this weekend is a home game with our biggest rivals. I made up my mind and we’re going to go and have a great time.
*
It’s game day. Todayafter dialysis, Phillip drives me home, but instead of us cozying up to a pile of DVD’s, a book, or any of our other patented Friday night rituals, he goes home, leaving me to get ready for the game. I want to make sure I look as good as possible. Of course, he’ll be happy with whatever I put on, but Phillip always sees me on my worst days. He’s endured extreme circumstances ranging from me throwing up at home to overnight stays in the hospital. He’s seen me without makeup and wearing only grungy comfortable sweatpants and t-shirts with feet so swollen I don’t want to stand. I owe it to him to look presentable.
I text Cyn. I need some consulting and she seems to be more fashion savvy than I am.
Need to borrow a shirt or hoop earrings. Something. Get over here please
I know she’ll be waiting. She knows I planned to go to the game tonight and how important it is to me to look and feel my best. She responds.
Cyn: No prob. Got it covered. See ya in a sec
I decide to put a few curls in my long blonde hair and wear it down. Before I’m done fixing my hair, Cynthia lets herself in and is up in my room.
“Hey glamour babe.” She has one of her lollipops in her mouth and comes in with a bag under her arm. “Your hair’s looking great.”
I’m nervous. I know it’s dumb, but I feel like I have the first date jitters. “Thanks. It looks ok?”
“Yeah. My brother won’t be able to keep his hands off you and I’m gonna have to watch. Thanks.” She smiles sarcastically and tosses the bag onto my bed. For Cynthia, that’s a compliment. “Here, I’ll get the back.” She reaches for the curling iron and helps finish my curls so I can touch up my eyeliner. After strategically placing a few curls in back of my head, she reaches for the hairspray and spritzes a few times lifting and shaking my hair till it lays the way she wants. I don’t wear my hair down very often. Usually, it’s twisted up on my head in one of those claw-looking clips or messy knots, but tonight I’m letting it cascade down my back and over my shoulders.
“Sorry.” I’m not very sorry, actually. If that’s Phillip’s reaction to me looking nice, well then that’s a good thing, for me anyway. I can see where it would be uncomfortable for a sister though. I smile thinking about the possible reaction. I would love it if he can’t keep his hands off me, I deviously think to myself.
“Let’s get you finished; we need to get to the gym.” She reaches for the bag she brought over. “I had to reassure my overprotective big brother that you were fine. He thought since you texted, something was wrong.” She rolls her eyes and repositions her sucker. “He worries so easily about you.”
I slip my favorite pair of jeans on, buttoning them quickly so I can get my shirt picked out.
“You told him I just needed a fashion opinion or something, right?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Cyn holds up two different shirts, one higher than the other as if to point out which one she prefers. However, I shake my head to the one she holds high because there’s an issue.
“Not that one, short sleeves.” I can’t wear anything with short sleeves because my arms are riddled with bruises from the IV’s that I have to have for dialysis and other things.
“Right. Sorry, Sam.” Cynthia has a momentary lapse in memory, but it’s ok. I’m not offended.
“It’s ok. You don’t see my arms everyday like I do.” I hold my hand out for the other shirt. It’s royal blue, which happens to be Phillip’s favorite color, and it has long sleeves. Perfect. I try it on and stand in front of the mirror, turning to see how it fits. I like how it’s long enough that it doesn’t show any skin around my waist or lower back and its snug which shows off what few curves I have. I bend over and sit down to make sure no skin will show. Nope, I’m good. I’m not a fan of showing too much skin.
“You look great, doll. Let’s go.” Cyn starts to head out but abruptly turns around. “Oh! Earrings.” She digs down into her bag and pulls out a pair of gold hoop earrings that she brought over for me to borrow as well. They’re a little larger than the ones I have in. They aren’t smooth and plain like mine either. They have slanted etchings on them which make them shimmer when turned in the light. “Wear these.”
“Okay.” I’m a little hesitant because these hoops seem a bit flashy, but I can’t deny my best friend. The smile that beams from her face is so extraordinary. Either she thinks they look nice on me, which is a good thing, or she’s just happy I borrowed something to complete my ensemble. Whichever it is, it doesn’t matter. She’s thrilled and I’m pleased with my total look.
The knock at my front door reminds us it is time to go. I have Cynthia get the door so I can finish putting on my shoes. Phillip tells her Knox is waiting outside so she hollers, “See ya there,” and leaves. I’m glad they made up.
After making my way down the stairs, I walk over to greet Phillip, pausing to turn around and show off my new and improved image. “Wallflower, you look great.” He’s looking me up and down, very pleased with his findings.
I’m pleased with him too. He’s wearing black ripped jeans and one of his classic white T-shirts, hat on backwards. His normal look. But damn, just something about him ripples sexy confidence.
His eagerness gets the best of him as he quickly steps in my direction and scoops me up. His fresh layer of cologne is mesmerizing, but I’m able to keep my senses. Until he kisses me. Now I’m dizzy. Those lethal, delicious lips are my kryptonite.
When my feet find the floor, I’m a little concerned. “Hmmm.”
“What’s the matter?” Phillip’s still smiling, holding me against his body. The muscles in his arms are flexing, contemplating their next move.
“I must look horrible most of the time, or else you wouldn’t have been so excited just now.” I can’t help it. My evil insecurities peek out from time to time.
“Baby, you look great. You’ve had a rough couple of weeks, that’s all. You’re allowed to relax and be comfortable.” His polite way of saying I’m allowed to look like crap is endearing. I lean into his chest and let him continue to hug me.
“I don’t deserve you,” I whisper.
“Yes, you do.” He pulls my chin up and leans down for another one of his criminal kisses that sends my head whirling. When I catch my breath, he says, “You are beautiful on any given day at any given moment, whether you feel good or not. You’re beautiful, and you’re mine.”