Page 97 of Play With Me

“Yes, Jude.”

“Oh fuck. Nora, I can’t do barf. You have to come with me.”

“I was going to come anyway. If that was okay.”

I give her a quick hug, kissing her forehead. “You’re a lifesaver, Nor.”

Something passes over her face, but she smiles and nods. “I’ll go get dressed.”

Both of us manage to make it into clothes and reconvene outside within what feels like approximately thirty seconds, and in another couple of minutes, I’m banging on Farrah’s door. She answers, looking frazzled as hell.

“Oh thank you,” she says, holding open the door for us. This is a two-bedroom suite, and all I can see is the living area.

“Which room is he?” I ask, knowing I sound abrupt. But I need to see Cap.

“There,” she says, pointing at a door slightly ajar. I stride toward it, hearing, “I don’t know what to do. I help him to change, but then he is vomit again.”

I step inside the dark room, where there’s a tiny lump on the bed. But I only make it to the threshold—the smell of vomit hits me then, sending my stomach rolling.

“Oh God—”

I step back out, whirling around, fairly close to panic.

“I’ll check on him,” Nora says, seeing my distress.

“No! I mean, yes, come with me, but I have to see him myself.”

“He is okay. I think he is sleeping,” Farrah says. “But he was asking for you before.” I only register now just how frazzled she looks. Her hair is everywhere; she’s got sweat on her forehead. And—I squint—a blotch of multicolored...

I gag.

“Is Jude sick too?” Farrah asks behind me.

“He’s not good with vomit,” Nora says.

Farrah frowns. “He is scared?”

“I’m not scared!” I bark. “It’s just…that’s not meant to be on the outside.”

Nora’s got the barest hint of a smile on her face. “I’m going to go in.” She doesn’t wait for me, just disappears into the room like a soldier.

“You can wait out here?” Farrah points to the sofa.

“I’m fine,” I manage, covering my mouth with my hand. I take a breath of the relatively fresh air in the living room, then another, then barrel into Cap’s room.

Nora’s squatting next to him on the bed. There are towels, and the hotel’s ice bucket next to the bed. I don’t inspect it too closely. She was right, he’s asleep.

“Poor little guy,” Nora says, stroking his forehead.

I cup his head, forgetting everything for a moment except how beautiful this child is. How much I love him wholeheartedly.

My stomach clenches, only this time, it’s not from the stench, which I can’t currently smell anyway, given I’m still holding my breath. It’s the gravity of my love for my son. He and my family—they’re the only ones I know for sure love me and me them, because they’re stuck with me.

Nora, her tousled red hair loose, her whole body leaning toward the boy who’s like a part of my heart walking around on the outside—she could leave me at any time. She already did leave me.

I let out my breath, and when I inhale again, the stench is overpowering.

Nora sees. “I’m going to crank up the air con; maybe that’ll help.” Damn hotel windows that don’t open. I nod, wondering if I need to run to the bathroom myself, my stomach’s churning so hard.

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