Page 38 of Fluffed and Folded

After his hand was done bestowing comfort, he regarded her with a serious frown, now butted against her bedside, so close he could smell the iodine. His stomach gave a weak protest, but he shoved it aside, because this was important, maybe more important than he could rationally comprehend at the moment. How could he take care of her when he barely knew her?What would my sisters want in this moment?

His eyes fell on Darby’s lips, dry and cracked from so many hours spent under anesthesia. His sisters were always piling goop on their lips of some sort, usually peppermint flavored and soothing. He knew because he’d spent most of his adolescence carrying it for them. Girl clothing never seemed to have pockets. Why? He had no idea. In his experience, his sisters always had much more to carry than he did. Then, in lieu of pockets, they shoved those items onto their brother—makeup, keys, phones, gum, sunglasses; he’d carried it all.

Absently he patted his pockets, so immersed in his memories that he almost expected to find a tube of lip goop on him now. Of course he didn’t, however. He had never owned any of his own, had only occasionally sneaked some from his sisters and even Josie, when his lips became wintery dry.I’ll go get her some,he thought, because it seemed like a tangible thing.

Relieved to have a clear directive besides cowardly flight now, he eased out of the curtain and set a brisk pace toward the gift shop.

Darby woke in the unnatural silence of the recovery ward. It was a purposely hushed place, the type where people whispered and footsteps were softened by rubber soles. She had no memory of being asleep, only a new and sudden awareness of being awake. Her eyes flapped open and she fought the panicked feel of something holding her down, grasping onto her. Frantically, her hand reached for her face, only to remind her with jangling clarity that she was, in fact, held down. Her arm was gently tethered to an IV, her finger pressed into an oxygen monitor. Part of her brain knew and understood she was in the hospital and underwent surgery. The other partof her was still in some ether-induced la-la land where having an IV made as much sense as the talking mushroom she’d just been dreaming about.

Forcing herself to take a breath and be still, she attempted to give her mind a moment to catch up.You had surgery. You are in the hospital. Where is everyone?Somehow, even though she’d spent the last five years alone, it seemed impossible that she should be alone now, in this place. A surge of fear and adrenaline shot through her, leaving her impossibly weaker and more muddled than she already was. Something was missing, someone. Ham? No, Ham had been gone for five years.

The uncomfortable feeling in her chest spread outward toward her limbs, dragging her back toward the darkness she’d recently left. She went toward it willingly, strangely reluctant to be awake, to face the fact that she was in a strange space, completely on her own.What am I going to do?was her final thought, before the suffocating blackness reclaimed her.

Good, she’s still out,Eli thought as he crept closer to the bed and uncapped the lip stuff he’d bought. He smeared some on Darby’s papery lips, pausing to inhale the familiar and girly scent of vanilla and peppermint before he put the cap back on. Eli didn’t purport to be the manliest specimen on the planet; he was no Tristan, after all. But having two sisters made him realize early on that men and women might as well be two different species. Girly things were still odd and foreign to him, makeup especially. But there was something comfortingly familiar about the smell of the lip balm, the slight weight of it in his pocket. Or maybe it was the relief of being able to do something constructive for Darby, something besides wait.

He sat and pulled out his phone, for no reason than to have something to do with his hands. He was about to flick it to life to search for a game when Darby’s eyes popped open, regarding him in terror.

“Asher,” she croaked.

“No, it’s me, Eli,” he said, leaning forward so she could get a better view of him, even though he was already in plain sight. When she continued to stare at him with wide, unrecognizing eyes, he stood and eased closer to the bed.

She whimpered.

He froze. “Hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay. You’re all right. You’re in the hospital, do you remember? It’s me, Eli. You’re fine.”

She gulped and clutched the sheet in her fist, knuckles white.

“Eli,” she said, voice raspy with disuse and anesthesia.

“Yeah, it’s only me. I’m as non-threatening as a potato.” Tentatively he reached out a hand and brushed at her hair again, smiling when she visibly relaxed.

“What kind of potato?” she asked.

“Now I’m afraid to answer, in case there’s a variety you find threatening. Note to self: find out a woman’s potato phobias before making an analogy.”

She managed a small smile and rubbed her lips together. “My mouth is greasy.”

“I’ve been stuffing pieces of fried chicken between your lips. Got to keep your strength up.”

She tried to chuckle and ended on a groan. “Smells like vanilla,” she muttered.

He dug for the lip balm and held it aloft. “It’s this. Don’t worry, it’s a new pack. You seem like the type who might have something against risking festering lip fungus, so I figured you wouldn’t want to share.”

“Thank you,” she said, looking overtly touched by the gesture.

“Do you want anything else?” he asked.

“Now that you mentioned fried chicken,” she trailed away weakly, head swiveling toward the curtain as it swung open.

“We’ll have to wait a while for that, hon,” a nurse declared. She tossed Darby a beaming smile. “How would you like to go to your room and get settled?”

“Very much,” Darby agreed.

Eli shuttled back and forth out of the nurse’s way as she began unhooking Darby, readying her for her trip to another floor. It took so long that Darby began to flag again, her eyes falling shut before repeatedly snapping back open.

“Hey,” Eli said, touching his hand to her forehead. “Don’t fight it, you should get some sleep.”

“He’s right, hon. Your body needs the rest. And it looks like I forgot the portable cuff. You sit tight, I’ll be right back.” She disappeared out of view while Darby nodded off again.

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