Page 71 of Rebound

“Seth!” I’m pulled out of my thoughts at the sound of my name and look at her. She’s standing in front of me waving her hand in my face. “Come outside with us. Maybe she can use some fresh air.”

Just as I’m about to tell her that it’s about to rain, I hear a clap of thunder and the sound of rain hitting the window.

“Fuck,” she says.

“Stella,” Gaga says. “Go outside and make sure your father didn’t leave his car window down again.” She waves her hand as if she’s signaling for Layla to go.

“I just checked, Gaga. It’s up,” Layla says.

“Good. He leaves it down and then gets mad at me. Last time he got mad, I told him to kiss my ass. And you know what? He did.” She lets out a laugh before waving us off. “I’m gonna make dinner while I watch my stories.”

After a few minutes, she gets agitated. One of the employees comes in, gives her medication, and helps her get into bed. The rain continues to fall. I’m not sure if it’s the weather, the comfortable bed, or the medication, but her eyes become heavy and she falls asleep soon after.

Layla sits on the loveseat on the other side of the room, and I sit next to her. I put a hand on her knee for comfort, but she takes it a step further and puts her head on my shoulder. I want to offer her words of comfort, but there’s nothing I can say that will make this any better. Besides, Coach’s words from a few weeks ago pop back into my head.

“What happens when she dies and Layla doesn’t need you to pay for her care anymore?”

The only thing I know is that I won’t let her go. My daughter counts on her too much. We have a routine. One that includes Layla reading to her every night, playing with her and loving her. Jasmine has an extended family now that includes grandparents who actually leave the house, and an uncle whose bark is much worse than his bite. Sometimes I’ll lean against the door and watch as Layla teaches Jasmine her letters and then reads her a book.

I’m no longer doing this on my own, and I get why Chastain is so crazy about his wife. She came into his life and became a mother to his son. In a short time, we’ve become a team. Layla does whatever needs to be done. Whether it’s cooking dinner, laundry, or taking care of Jasmine, she does it all with a smile and without complaint.

Another thing I’ve realized is how lonely I was before she came into my life. Even before Jasmine, when I had a different woman every night, I was lonely. I didn’t know it. Now, I have her with me, and even when we lie in bed so she can watch one of those crazy shows about killers, it’s still better than anything I’ve ever had.

“I think the Jeffrey Dahmer documentary starts tonight,” I tell her in an attempt to get her out of her funk.

“Will you watch it with me?” She lifts my shirt and wipes her nose.

“Fine, but something’s wrong with you. And you’re going to wash this shirt later. With bleach,” I add. I feel good when she giggles and wipes her nose with my shirt again. “Isn’t Dahmer the cannibal?” I ask.

“Yeah, and when he was a kid, he and his daddy would collect roadkill and stuff them.”

“Um, was his father a taxidermist or something? What the fuck kind of weird family is this?” I ask, totally disturbed by thethought. “And I thought my dad was weird. I guess he’d have to leave the house to pick up roadkill.” I visibly shiver at the thought.

“No. He was a chemist.”

“If you know all this already, why do you want to watch this show tonight?” I ask.

“In case there’s something new,” she says it as if it makes sense for someone to enjoy serial killer documentaries, but I don’t say anything.

“Fine, but I’m still kind of traumatized from that documentary about the one who dressed like a clown.” I shiver at the memory.

“John Wayne Gacy,” she says. “That was a good one. The police totally—”

“Enough, please. And no clowns at Jasmine’s parties ever.” She giggles at that. “Let’s talk about something else. Like how you know how to ride and suck a dick so good.”

She moves away, and her head snaps up as she looks at me in shock. Then she looks at Gaga who is snoring softly.

“What did you just say?” she asks. She looks horrified as she puts a hand on her chest.

“You suck and ride a mean dick. How do you know how to do that?”

Her mouth hangs open at my question, and then she throws her head back, overtaken by uncontrollable laughter. She laughs so hard and so long that tears fall down her face and she has to hold her stomach.

“I can’t believe you,” she says. “But, um, thanks? I think that was supposed to be a compliment.” She laughs again.

“Tell me,” I whisper. I take her hand and put it on my hardening dick.

“Oh, my god. Mygrandmais a few feet away.”

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