Chapter 7: Repetition

The dreams were gone. For two weeks the weirdest feature of my dreams was a very long drive up a hill standing at a one-eighty-degree angle. There were no meadows, no vampires, and no wolves. The stone chairs were banished. I woke up rested. I sprung out of bed and threw open my curtains to bird song and sang about how a dream is a wish your heart makes. Okay, so that last bit is exaggerated, but I was feeling seriously good.

Jake and I managed to hang out in his garage a few times that week without any weirdness—except that we both felt the need, in unison, to lengthen the distance between us whenever Billy popped in or Quill or Embry stopped in to say hi.

To slow the speed of rumour spreading, I suggested leaving town for date number two. Jake, ever easy and cool, had no objections. He even agreed that the ride home from our first date would be the last time he'd choose the mode of transportation without asking me first. Naturally, I pressed him to swear that even if an emergency arose he would find a way to bring a car or, hell, a unicorn rather than a motorbike.

Jake had no problem with hanging out with my friends. Angie gave me the seal of approval—and later whispered in my ear that she was Team Jacob over Team Edward. Jess forced a double date on me, whether to test Jake or to show off her own boyfriend I wasn't sure. Mike seemed like he was Team Edward—or maybe not everyone can be a friend with anyone, because Jake and Mike couldn't exchange more than a few sentences without falling silent. Jess wasn't impressed. Apparently I could do better, but she wasn't going to get in my way. Honestly, although Jess was my friend, hers wasn't a necessary vote in my love life. I much preferred that my dad and Angie saw the connection Jake and I had.

After that Jess didn't force us into a double date again. She said it was because Jake bored her. The whole double date concept had always been a mystery to me. Usually glow-in-the-dark mini-putt was a small thrill—because how can anyone's inner child dislike glow-in-the-dark—but Jess's constant attempts to pry into how Jake and I were a thing made it ten times more annoying when my ball missed the hole. Even if Angie wanted to double date I would refuse. The idea gave me shivers.

Then things changed. The first sign was a fever.

I had convinced Jake to spend a few hours away from his motorcycle project and we'd claimed a table in the town square. The sky was like Caribbean waters, clear and blue. Bare legs travelled the sidewalks. A few girls braved short shorts. While the weather allowed it I judged them.

"Those girls are, like, twelve." I gestured to the girls on their cellphones in their short shorts.

Jake followed my gesture and laughed. "They're fifteen."

I squinted. The heavy make-up made the girls seem younger. "Really?"

Jake shook his head at me. "You have a serious vendetta."

I frowned. "Against what?"

"You judge anyone who doesn't dress like a grandma." Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"I do not." I stirred my iced coffee with the mint green straw. It was half full. Almost all ice. The air was damp and hot. I thought about taking off the lid and dumping the ice into my mouth.

Jake raised a brow. I took a sip. I wouldn't admit he was a little right. Only a little.

Jake closed his eyes. He exhaled heavily. His head hung low.

"You okay?"

He nodded. He wasn't smiling.

Earlier I'd forcibly removed him from the garage because I thought it was the fumes that were making him look woozy. He'd seemed better—until suddenly he wasn't. Out in the blinding sunshine I could tell he was paler than usual. I saw that his eyes were puffy and dark. His forehead was clammy.

"Jake, you don't look so good." I leaned forward. "Before you get an idea for a sarcastic remark, I mean you look sick."

Jake met my eyes. He nodded weakly.

I stood. "I'm taking you home."

Jake didn't resist. I took his arm. He tried to walk tall, but when I took his hand my fingers almost burned. I touched my hand to his forehead. I couldn't hold my hand there for more than a couple seconds. I'd never felt skin so hot.

"Maybe you need to see a doctor."

Jake squeezed my hand. "No. Sleep. I haven't been sleeping well."

I didn't want to tell him how obvious it was.

I led Jake to my truck. My arm linked around his. It was the best I could do to support him as we walked. I almost helped him into the passenger seat. I stopped myself because I knew Jake would rather collapse than look that feeble. The poor guy was suffering enough. He didn't need his ego attacked.

My truck considered stalling. It took a few goes to start. Any other day I wouldn't be worried since I travelled with a mechanic, but I didn't want Jake to be worrying about me or my truck when he had started shivering.

Had he been this bad when I saw him this morning? I was sure I would've noticed. He was getting worse. Quickly. Way too quickly. Below my ribcage, at the bottom of my heart, my insides squeezed. If only I had some medical knowledge I would know if this was something to worry about.

When my truck started and we pulled away from the town square, I thought about turning towards the hospital, but I second-guessed myself. This had to be a normal cold. It was bad, but not an emergency. Jake was too full of energy to be beaten by something as weak as a cold. I was going to trust him.

"Do you get sick a lot?"

Jake laughed. It was weak, but it was a relief to hear. "No." He inhaled deeply, slowly. "The last time I had a cold I was eleven."

"Wow."

"Usually if everyone I know passes along a cold, everyone getting everyone else sick, it skips me." He shrugged. "I'm immune to anything contagious. Usually."

"I wish I had that superpower." Admittedly I didn't get sick often either, but I stubbed my toes and dropped things often enough that I think it balanced it out.

Jake watched as I pulled up to a stop sign. No one was coming, but I stopped and looked as protocol demanded. Jake laughed. At least he had enough energy to laugh at traffic safety.

"Maybe this is like revenge of the colds," I teased. I put on a super-villain voice—which was comically deep. "You've gone too long without suffering the sniffles. You're luck has run out. Muahahaha!"

Jake smiled. He closed his eyes. He looked half asleep. "You're funny." He paused. "And by funny I mean strange."

"I'm funny hilarious too," I said, but the only one listening was me. When I looked over Jake was asleep.

When I parked out front of his house I was reluctant to wake him. If it weren't for my mediocre strength I would've attempted.

I said his name a few times. He didn't stir. I patted his shoulder. Nothing. I started shaking him. He flinched but he didn't wake. In the end I had to shout his name for him to open his eyes.

His health had deteriorated. He couldn't stand tall. He could barely walk. He had to lean on me. It was like lifting a cow. My own eyes could attest to Jake having muscles—many of them pleasingly available to the naked eye—but it was like he forgot how to use them.

Billy left the door unlocked, but that didn't make it easy to get in. I had to puzzle a way to get both our bodies through the narrow door without disconnecting—because if he wasn't hooked onto me he'd drop. I left the door open once we were through. I couldn't reach back to close it even if I had tried.

It occurred to me that it was my first time in Jake's room. I don't know what I had expected to see, certainly the mess (I wasn't disappointed). Jake was the type who never made his bed—or maybe he waged a battle in his sleep because the sheets were pulled in every direction. No wonder Jake hadn't slept well. He'd been too busy destroying his room.

Besides the bed, there was a clothes pile in one corner, stacked halfway up the wall. I noted short book pile on the floor and looked for any available space to save the poor things, but there was no space. He didn't have a bookshelf. He did have shelves, but they were reserved for a few trophies, old video games, a retired N64 console, and a few imperfect woodcarvings. There were two framed photos. One was of Billy, Jake, and his sister in a boat. Billy and Jake had fishing poles while Jake's sister (whose name escaped me) had a wide-brimmed hat and a fake smile for the camera. She seemed to be opposed to the outdoors. Jake looked about thirteen or fourteen. He was even younger in the second photo. He was barely more than a toddler. He might have been five. He still had rounded features. It wasn't difficult to guess why Jake would still want a photo of his pudgy childhood in clear view. There were four in the photo. Billy looked so much younger. He hadn't experienced any tragedies yet. It seemed like his whole world was in that frame, and it was a happy world. Even Jake's sister posed unprompted and smiled joyfully. There was no faking a face with that much joy. The fourth person in the photo, a woman holding Jake's hand and wearing the same expression as Jake's sister, was the brightest person in that frame. She wasn't a gorgeous woman, not in a way that would get her cast in movies or earn her magazine covers. She wasn't thin, but had some rolls. Her hair was braided. Her smile was warm. She was every inch a mother and I had come to realize that there was a certain beauty that no woman could have unless she was a mother. My own mother had lost and found that spark several times when she was with me. I had a sad feeling that Jake's mother had been a woman who had always had that beauty in her. If she had been allowed to stay she would've kept it.

I laid Jake on his bed. I tried to put some cover on him, but he was too heavy on the mangled covers. I barely got the thin sheet to his stomach.

Jake fell asleep again. I got a glass of water and made some room on the table beside his bed. His bed was pushed lengthwise against the wall and no matter where I placed it he would have to get out of bed to reach the water. I thought about moving a table closer, but the last thing I'd want if I was sick was someone rearranging my room.

For a few minutes I stood spinning in his room deciding what to do next. He was sick. Should I stay or should I go? I didn't want him to get up and need something and be unable to get it. But if I stayed and he didn't need anything I would be staring at a sick person which I know would not be something I'd like if I were sick. Or maybe I could go read a book out in the living room and if he needed me I'd be near but not hovering so much?

Jake, as usual, made things easy for me. He woke up.

"Bella?"

I kneeled next to his bed. "Yeah?"

"I think some sleep will conquer this thing."

"Okay."

"You should go before I get you sick too."

"Okay." I stood. "Call me or text me when you're better, okay? I want to know."

He closed his eyes and nodded.

I tiptoed from the room since this time I wanted him to stay asleep. I left the door open because I wanted Billy to notice his sick son in bed when he came home. I wanted to be sure someone would check on him. I would call later to be sure Billy knew.

This time I closed the front door. I couldn't lock it, but I also knew that Billy and Jake didn't believe in locking doors. Add that to the motorcycle thing and suddenly I was sure that I could never ever be as easy as Jake.

When my hands touched my steering wheel I noticed how cold it was. No. I noticed how warm my hands were. They were still cooling from touching Jake. His temperature had been unbearable to touch. I couldn't imagine how he was feeling. I had a terrible feeling that it wasn't a normal sickness.

I swallowed the thought down hard. I wanted to be wrong.

Three days went by. Jake wasn't better. I called everyday. Billy told me the same thing. His fever hadn't broken, but he wasn't worried. He'd tell Jake to contact me as soon as he was better.

The third day I broke my promise. I had promised myself not to bug a sick man with a barrage of text messages. My worry overcame my patience. I sent him a message in the morning, another in the early afternoon, and another in the evening. My phone didn't leave my hand all day. I stared at the screen, waking it up each time it tried to sleep, waiting for an immediate reply to my messages. Nothing.

I called both Angie and Jess to voice my concerns. Angie's advice was to stop panicking. Billy knew how to take care of his kid. He'd been a dad longer than I'd been a girlfriend. Angie's advice was solid. It calmed me down. For a few hours I was relieved. Then I called Jess.

Jess had a boyfriend. Jess had more experience with dating than I did. I wanted her advice about what a girl is supposed to do when her boyfriend is sick for days. Unfortunately, Jess had unrealistic expectations. She told me if Mike was sick for that long she'd be by his side for a minimum of three hours every day. She'd bring him soup. She wanted to play nurse. I knew that wasn't my role, but her insistence that I needed to be there for him made me panic again. What if Jake was lying in bed, well enough to be bored but not well enough to do anything, and he really needed a visitor to help him pass the time?

I called Billy again. Jake wasn't allowed visitors. I could do nothing. It was my worst nightmare. I needed to be able to do something.

I called Jess again and told her I was barred from Jake's bedside. She came over with recipes. We started with her family's sacred chicken noodle soup recipe. I admit it certainly smelled sacred. We packaged it in travel-friendly Tupperware. She also insisted we make her family's extra luscious brownie recipe. We made plenty. Jess claimed the better ones for our own consumption. The one the looked less good—but still moist and chewy—were packaged for Jake and Billy.

Jess helped me carry out our hard work to my truck. She didn't complain about how far we had to go or that she had postponed meeting up with Lauren to help me. Jess was having one of her good friendship days. It was seeing this side of her that made me grateful that she liked to meddle. Sometimes she meddled for more than her own curiosity. Today was one of those rare times she showed how selfless she could be.

When Billy's driveway was in view I was surprised that I didn't recognize a few of the vehicles parked there. I told myself not to be suspicious—after all mechanics need vehicles to work on, right? It was normal.

I parked and Jess helped me carry our kitchen goods to the door. I knocked. I could hear low, deep voices inside talking. I knocked again. The voices were silent. I heard a wheel squeak as Billy hurried to the door.

Billy opened the door. His eyes widened when he saw me. "Bella."

"I tried calling," I said.

There were people in the living room. That wasn't the strange part. Those with graying hair didn't surprise me. It was seeing the younger men, all chiseled specimens, standing around shirtless. It wasn't a nice enough day for all of them to get the idea to take their shirts off. I recognized one boy—Quil. One of Jake's best friends was here.

"Everything all right?" I asked.

Billy looked at his gathering and then back at me. "Fine, Bella."

"Is Jake okay?"

Billy smiled weakly. "His fever went down."

"That's great!" I almost dropped the brownies I was so relieved. "Can I see him?"

Billy's brow pinched together. He frowned. "No. He shouldn't see anyone. We want him to keep getting better, not risk making it worse."

I nodded. "Right. Okay. I just wanted to drop this off…" I lifted my glass pan an inch. "Chicken noodle soup." I nodded at Jess' bundle. "And brownies. I thought this might cheer Jake up."

Billy's brow softened. "Thank you, Bella. I know Jake will appreciate this." Billy nodded behind him.

Quil ran up to the door. "I've got it."

Jess relinquished care of the soup to Quil. Billy reached out a hand and I had no choice but to give the brownies to him. Jess' plan had been flawless. She never could've predicted that Billy was having a party.

"Goodbye, Bella." Bella closed the door.

Jess and I looked at the door and then each other.

"That was weird," Jess said. "Unless that's normal…?" She looked me up and down, questioning my judgment.

"That was weird," I agreed.

"Maybe they're doing some medicine man ceremony to heal Jacob," Jess guessed.

I laughed. Somehow I couldn't picture Jake going along with it, but Billy seemed the type to try anything once.

I shook my head. "I don't think so."

"If you're ever allowed to see Jake again, ask him about that," Jess instructed, "and then immediately do not tell me any weird details. Mike has me watching horror this month and I do not need anymore nightmare fuel."

AUTHOR: NIGHTMARE! I've been trying to upload for a while now-and this site has NOT let me! Finally realized there's a copy-and-paste option instead of an upload (duh). So there'll be a couple more chapters uploaded this week (because just because I haven't been uploading doesn't mean I haven't been writing).

Thank you, readers, for your patience.

Enjoy. Review.