You were nervous that day, tugging anxiously at the tassels of your scarf and chewing on your lip as you rang your neighbor's doorbell. What were you thinking? Nobody wore scarves in the middle of summer. You were tired and aching. Every instinct you had told you to run back home before it was too late, yet you stayed.
After what felt like an eternity, your tall, well-muscled neighbor answered the door, his adorable daughter clinging to his leg.
"Nate!" you said, a wide smile quickly overtaking your face.
"Hey! Nice to see ya. So glad you could come watch Cassie for us," he said, holding out his hand to pull you inside. You acquiesced, uncomfortable with the physical touch, but happy you were back in your friends' home again. You always felt so safe there...
"It's no trouble," you said. You glanced down at the tiny, blonde girl holding tightly to her father's leg.
"Cassie," Nate asked his daughter kindly. "Let go for a minute, I've got to talk to-"
"No!" Cassie interrupted sharply. "I don't want you to go!"
You giggled while Nathan smiled sheepishly at you.
"Looks like you've got a little monkey on you," you said, then knelt down so you were eye level with Cassie.
"Cass?" you coaxed. The 4-year-old turned a suspicious eye to you. "Come on, you have to let go some time."
Cassie shook her head, clearly unconvinced. The whole world conspired to steal her parents away from her, and she was just not having it. You sighed in mock woe and added mournfully, "I guess I'm just going to have to make these all by myself then."
You took a bag of cookie mix from your purse, which made the tiny girl's face light up and her arms loosen.
"No!" she squeaked indignantly. "You can't do that! That's our thing we do! You can't do it alone!"
"Let go of your father's leg, and we'll make some before bed," you bargained. Without warning, Cassie threw herself from her father and onto your neck, making you flinch at the contact to your tender skin. You put your arms underneath her and hoisted her up in the air, thankfully alleviating some of the pressure.
"Really?!" Cassie shouted.
"Of course," you responded, relishing a little in the huge grin on Cassie's face, and the nearly panicked expression on Nate's. Cassie wriggled in your grasp, a signal for you to let her down.
"I'm going to tell Mom!" she said excitedly, then rushed off to find her mother. Nate took you aside.
"Only let her have two, okay?" he mumbled conspiratorially.
"Of course, of course," you responded. "This isn't my first rodeo."
Nate raised his eyebrow, clearly remembering the time a year ago when you'd brought over an entire cake and eaten it with Cassie (who had been only 3 at the time). You'd had enough sugar-rushed toddler to know never to do that again.
"Really?" he said seriously.
"Yes really. Everything's going to be fine. I'll have her in bed by 8:00, and I won't let her burn the house down. Go out. Enjoy your date night. From what I hear, you've really earned it." You smiled warmly at him, making him shrug and look away from you, embarrassed by the praise.
As if on queue, Elena came slowly down the stairs, hand in hand with her daughter. She was, as usual, beautiful, though today she appeared to have forgone her usual khakis in favor of a pretty floral dress.
"Oh, hey!" she said upon seeing you. "Cassie told me you guys were going to be baking cookies."
Before you could respond, Cassie decided to chime in.
"Yep!" she chirped.
"Yes, well, that was the plan," you said, shrugging.
"Oh?" Elena looked at Cassie, then said seriously, "As long as you save some for us, I don't mind."
She pecked her daughter lightly on the nose, making the tiny girl giggle.
"Wait," Nate interjected. "Does this mean we're not getting dessert?"
Elena shot a look at her husband and said, "No, it just means we're not getting it at the restaurant."
"Well, why can't we just have both?"
"Yeah, Mom. Why can't we just have both?" Cassie squeaked.
"See? She gets it," Nathan said.
"Because your dad will get fat, sweetie. He's too old to be eating all that sugar," Elena explained with a sly glance at Nate. You couldn't help but snicker a bit at this interaction.
"Ouch. Now that's just mean," he said, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Elena turned her attention to you. She furrowed her eyebrows.
"You look awfully warm. Is there something wrong? Are you sick?"
You felt your stomach lurch and panic creep into your heart. You knew this was a bad idea. Why hadn't you just listened to Paul when he told you not to go? Still, you tried to play it cool.
"Oh no," you said, shrugging your shoulders. "I just have no real sense of the weather is all. And I"m a firm believer in 'once you've picked your outfit for the day you're stuck with it,' you know?" You grinned sheepishly, hoping that would sell it.
"Still," Elena argued. "you should at least take off your scarf. You must be sweltering." She moved to grab your scarf, making you take an involuntary step backwards.
"No no no, it's attached to the shirt, you see," you explained, more frantically than you had intended. This was a lie, but you couldn't think of another way to avoid being touched.
"Oh, well. If you're sure you're okay..." she said, concern evident in her eyes and voice. You felt a twinge of guilt. Why hadn't you just stayed at home? Why did you have to be so pathetic that you let your only friends in the world feel bad for you? You just weren't worth it.
"Of course, I"m fine," you chirped as cheerily as you could muster. Sometimes you were such a bad actor you made yourself sick.
"Elena," Nathan said. "Come on, we gotta go."
"Alright. See you Cassie," she quickly pulled her daughter in for a hug.
"Bye Mom! Dad! Hugs!" Cassie held out a tiny hand from behind her mother's back. Nathan smiled gently and wrapped his arms around his wife and daughter. Your heart warmed at the sight. When they broke apart, Cassie rushed to your side and waved exaggeratedly at her parents.
"Bye! Goodnight!" she yelped. You waved along with her.
"Bye!" said Nathan.
"Don't let her stay up past 8:00," Elena added. The door closed behind them, leaving you alone with Cassie. Cassie tugged at the hem of your shirt. You obligingly looked down at her.
"Cookies?" you asked.
"Mhm!" she affirmed, then immediately flounced off to the kitchen.
The next half hour before you put Cassie to bed was uneventful. She chattered cheerily through the whole process of cooking. You did most of it, but you let her add the chocolate chips, then bragged to her that she had made the cookies with practically no help whatsoever. It wasn't true, but you loved to see Cassie's beaming face looking up at you that you'd tell her anything to get her to smile like that. Once you were done, you gave her two cookies and a glass of milk. She fell asleep halfway through the second one.
After you finally laid Cassie down to sleep, you quickly collapsed on the couch and closed your eyes for a minute, gathering your thoughts. The moment you started to relax, however, your ribs ached uncomfortably. You curled in on yourself, furrowing your eyebrows.
You hadn't looked at that one yet.
You slowly snaked your hands down your stomach while you glanced around you, checking for any small children that may surprise you and wonder at whatever was on your stomach. You trembled once your hands reached the hem of your shirt. Should you look? What if it was bad? You gritted your teeth, gripping the hem of your shirt so tightly your knuckles turned white... then slowly let go of it. You couldn't look. Not now. Not when you had other things to do. You made a mental note to take a look when you were at home, safe in the shower.
You swung your legs determinedly off the off the couch and strode back to the kitchen, which was filthy from your earlier cookie exploit. It was no use dwelling on such small pains, you reminded yourself. Particularly when you had work to do.
You filled up the sink with hot, soapy water and dunked the various plates and bowls in the steaming sink. Once you had cleared the counters and wiped them down with a sponge, you sunk your hands into the dishwater and got to cleaning. Technically there was a dishwasher and only the dishes with the most caked on dough had to be cleaned by hand, but you liked the work, and hand washing got things cleaner anyway.
The only flaw in this method was that this way, you had to look at the ugly purple and yellow gauntlets that surrounded your wrists, and mourn the mistakes that made them. Still, as long as nobody else saw them, there was no real harm done. Bruises fade and hearts heal and people change you recited in your head. It was a quote you'd heard off Facebook, but you thought it suited your situation quite well.
You smiled as you put the last dish on a towel to dry, and put your hands on your hips to congratulate yourself on a job well done. You glanced up at the clock. Nate and Elena were supposed to be back at midnight, so that left you a little time to relax. You took out your phone to text Paul a reassuring message, but something stopped you. You remembered what happened the last time you had sent him too many texts when he was busy. You hadn't been able to come out of the house for two weeks after. Nate and Elena had texted you all throughout. You told them you were sick, but you regretted not being able to see them, particularly since Sam had been visiting at the time.
Sam.
Now there was a guy you missed.
Sam was Nathan's older brother. He was tall and built with lean muscle in spite of his age (which you guessed to be from 40 to 45.) He had been the one to introduce you to Nathan when you were new in the neighborhood. He had flirted with you and made you feel welcome, and when he left, you'd made some of the best friends you'd ever had. You owed him so much...
You shook your head vigorously to snap yourself from your reverie, then you glanced around, looking for any stray bits and bobs you could tend to. The kitchen looked spotless now, but the living room had several stray toys and articles of clothing strewn about the room. You set yourself to tidying them. So much for relaxing...
Still, you found some measure of calm in the mundane task of tidying the various pieces of evidence of happy, suburban, family life. You searched diligently behind furniture, in small corners, anywhere and everywhere that could possibly conceal a stray sock or haphazardly placed doll until the house looked cleaner than it probably ever had.
Maybe I should ask Nate to start paying a housecleaning fee you pondered with satisfaction. Then you flopped on the couch, grabbed the remote, and flicked on the TV. Nate was one of the few people you knew who still had cable, and of course, there was nothing on. That was Nate. Old-fashioned to a fault. After flicking through a few channels, you eventually settled on some rom-com that was playing on one of the channels that seemed specifically geared to old ladies. The movie was terribly written with frankly atrocious acting, but there were still a few moments that made you snicker, and that was a win in your book.
You snuggled deeper into the couch and grabbed for a throw pillow to hug when all of a sudden, you noticed a scrap of cloth peeking out from the couch cushions. You frowned at it.
Damnit Nate, you thought. He had probably gotten dressed in a hurry the other day and left a discarded garment to sink into the couch. You dug your hand between the cushions, groping at fabric until it finally popped out. You looked at it, perplexed. It didn't look like one of Nathan's shirts, and it was far too big to be Elena's or Cassie's. So whose was it?
You put the dark flannel shirt to your face and sniffed briefly. You came away with the scents of cigarette smoke and sweat. Your heart dropped to your stomach at the realization of whose shirt this was...
Suddenly, a horrifyingly familiar voice sounded behind you.
"Hey! I wondered where that went!"