Of all the American holidays, Neela understood the 4th of July the least. Partially, she admitted, due to the fact it was a celebration of independence from the country she grew up in. But mostly because people celebrated it by ingesting large quantities of alcohol and then either firing up the BBQ grill or shooting of those firecrackers. Neither of the latter should be combined with the former, as her double shift in the ER just proved. A double shift, because her dear "roomie" had refused to answer any of the pages they'd sent him when they ended up short staffed at 7 AM. Not the least bit patriotic that she had seen, he nevertheless had managed to get two consecutive days off and was apparently unwilling to give up any of his free time.
The last thing she had insisted on when she'd left the apartment more than 24 hours ago was that the band could not be practicing when it was time for the fireworks. That was the one element of this day she appreciated, and she intended to do it in relative silence, sitting on the small fire escape outside their apartment's window. Though the sun was dipping close to the horizon, the walk from the El was stifling in the still nearly 90 degree temperatures and there were close to two hours before the display would begin.
So she was basically blaming her lack of sleep, the sauna-like weather, and the American penchant for dangerous celebratory activities on her roommate, when she inserted her key in the lock and was relieved to find a quiet, darkened apartment. They must have found an alternate location for whatever festivities they'd planned. She shuddered to think of what they may be. Dropping her bag on the table, she kicked off her shoes and crossed to the kitchen, hoping for something cold to drink. Intent on her search, she barely heard her roommate's footsteps padding across the wood floors.
"Hey, Neela." He had stumbled out of his bedroom, wearing a pair of boxer shorts and nothing else.
"Ray!" She hadn't attributed the soft noises to him, assuming he and his buddies were off partying somewhere. Grabbing a drink and closing the refrigerator door firmly, she spun around to face him. "Dress code, Ray. You know the deal, no shirt, no shorts, no service. Shoes are optional." This rule had been instituted almost immediately after she moved in when she came home one day to discover the band in various stages of undress. She didn't care to hear the explanation that whoever's error made them restart the song had to remove an item of clothing, and had been insistent on the dress code ever since.
"We, uh... need to drop the dress code, at least for a couple days." Ray's voice was thick with sleep.
"We certainly will not!" was her immediate retort, the frustration of the day rising to meet the temperature. "There are standards, Ray, and though you may be comfortable prancing about here in...whatever…I am not and I do not want to see you doing so."
"Neela..."
"It's a matter of respect, really," she continued, enjoying the feeling of letting out the day's frustrations. "Which I try to maintain for you, even though most of the time you make it incredibly difficult. It's infuriating, actually. But despite my putting up with your rock music at all hours and general inability to clean or purchase anything remotely edible you still…"
"Neela!" His voice was firm this time and actually brought her eyes to him. "We're going to drop the dress code for a couple of days." He slowly turned around to reveal his back, covered in a blistering shade of red.
"God, Ray. What happened?" The previous animosity was gone and concern entered her voice.
"Short version? We went to hang out at the lake, I fell asleep on the dock, and no one thought to wake me up until they left five hours later."
"You should have used sunblock, Ray."
"I did!" he insisted. And then added sheepishly, "Where I could reach." He walked across the room and cautiously sat down on the couch, leaning forward with his head in his hands.
"Why on earth didn't you have someone…"
"It was just guys, Neela! Guys don't ask guys to put on sunblock."
"Guys instead prefer to get burnt to a crisp?"
"Not prefer," he quipped. "It's just the more manly option."
"And it's a lovely shade of pink you're wearing." She rolled her eyes at him and his bizarre set of standards. "What have you done for it?"
"Slept," he replied. "I had a headache and was dizzy and nauseous by the time I got home, so that's all I could manage."
"Still feel like that?"
"Yeah," he groaned, easing himself to lay face down on the couch.
"You've probably got sun poisoning, you know."
"I figured that out," he said sarcastically as he glanced up at her. "Despite the sunburn, my diagnostic powers are still intact."
"Yet your self-care powers are sadly lacking," she grouched, handing him her bottle of water. "Drink that, you're probably dehydrated." She rummaged through her bag and produced a bottle of aspirin. Unscrewing the cap she shook two out of the bottle and handed them to him. "For your headache and the sunburn pain." She went to the kitchen and retrieved two more bottles of water, tossing one on the couch as she forcefully made her way to her bedroom.
"Geez, Ray, how hard was that?"
"It's harder when you're burnt to a crisp!" he shouted at her retreating, angry silhouette.
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An hour later, after a shower that left her feeling much cooler both physically and emotionally, she emerged from her room to find Ray asleep facedown on the couch. Exactly what caused this in the first place, she thought. A survey of the kitchen revealed, as usual, there was very little she was interested in eating. Sighing, she grabbed an apple off the counter and judged from the darkening sky it wasn't too early to go outside and start waiting for the fireworks. She had forgotten how difficult opening the window could be, especially in the stickiness of July. Not feeling the least bit guilty for waking Ray in the process, she banged and pounded until eventually she was victorious in her struggle.
Ray watched the battle, amused and impressed by her determination. Propping himself up on his arms, he winced in pain as the skin on his back reminded him of the day's earlier activities. Unthinkingly, he let out a small moan.
"Hurt?"
"Pretty much feels like I've been on the grill," he admitted, slowly maneuvering into a sitting position, not without a few grimaces. "But my head and stomach aren't spinning."
"Congratulations." Her dry tone let him know she was still irritated, though no longer angry with him. She returned to her bedroom and brought out a bottle which she handed to him before she climbed out the window onto the fire escape. The milk crates they used as chairs were in the corner and she brushed some spider-webs off them.
"What's this?" he called from the couch.
"Lotion," she replied. "It's got aloe vera in it, which should help your sunburn some. Though maybe not much, considering the damage."
He turned the bottle over, reading the label, considering. "There's still the initial problem of the sunblock…how to put it on."
"Oh for God's sake, Ray," she yelled into the room, obviously perturbed with his helplessness. "Get us something to drink and bring it out here. I'll help you." The last statement was made as if it was some huge inconvenience.
Negotiating his way through the window was no easy task, but once accomplished the breeze and view of the city almost made it worth it. He crossed his arms on the rail and gazed at the last remnants of the sunset. He heard Neela walk up behind him and soon felt a cooling liquid run down his shoulders onto his back. Seconds later her hands started gently rubbing it into his skin.
"Aaah," he sighed, not remembering the last time he had felt something so wonderful. It took a minute before the clean, sweet smell drifted towards his nose. "Is this what makes you smell so good?"
"What?" she asked, totally confused.
"This lotion smells like you."
"It's my lotion. I use it. That's why it smells like me." Her tone sounded as though she was speaking to a four year old as her palms made circular motions across his back. Ray savored both the lotion and her touch while it lasted. Twisting the top on the bottle she thrust it into his hand and retreated to a milk carton in the corner, leaning against the hard bricks of the building.
"Why are you so pissed at me?" Ray asked. He'd been much more of a nuisance many times before and she'd never reacted so strongly. He watched her take a long drink and a deep breath before she spoke again.
"Mostly," she began, "it's been a bloody awful day. Mostly it's not your fault, and I'm sorry I've taken it out on you." She looked up at him. "But Ray, you do stuff like this all the time."
"Stuff like what?" he asked innocently.
"Incredibly stupid stuff. You take stupid risks and end up in situations that you easily could have prevented." His blank stare gave her reason to continue. "Like when you skateboarded down the stairs or tried juggling those juice glasses? It didn't take a genius to predict what would happen. You never think about the consequences!"
His mind went back to the incidents she mentioned and a puzzled look came over his face. "You're mad at me for hurting myself? Or you're mad that you have to fix me up afterwards?"
"I'm mad that you show so little disregard for yourself or anyone who cares about you!" she exploded simultaneously with the first firework. A patriotic red, white and blue shimmer that lit up the night sky, followed in quick succession by a barrage of others that forced them to hold their conversation in the silences.
"I never had anyone that did care, really," Ray said quietly, as they watched each glow fade into blackness. He apprehensively sat down on the milk carton next to her. "None of my other roommates really minded what I did one way or the other. I'm sure they never would have noticed."
"Didn't notice you bleeding or bruised or burned?" She gave him a doubtful glare. "I find that hard to believe. Wait," she reconsidered, thinking of the friends of his that she'd met. "Actually, I can believe it."
"They saw me burned like this, they'd probably slap me just to make it sting more." Kindness and consideration were not high on his buddies' priority list.
"Well, I can't do that, Hippocratic Oath and all." They paused to watch the colors unfold in the sky. "You should look into getting some better friends, Ray."
He looked at her shyly as a burst of silver illuminated her face. "I think I am," he murmured. A smile tugged at her lips and her eyes met his briefly before returning to the spectacle before them.