Page 103 of The Last Man on Earth
God, it hurts seeing him in so much pain.
And now the baby is moving.
Daddy clears his throat. “We rented an Airbnb,” he says. “We’re gonna take you there and let you rest up before we take you home.”
I nod, still staring at Vincent. But I can’t get to him, not with my family and his family in the way. All I can do is put one foot in front of the other as my family ushers me out of the room.
The Airbnb is small and cozy. I don’t know why they rented on the beach, but I’m not mad at it. I need the sound of the waves. That’s what I’m used to.
As soon as they show me where I’m sleeping, I strip down and damn near run to the shower. My first hot shower in months.
It’s heavenly.
After, I step out onto the fuzzy bath mat and wrap a towel around myself. It takes a few minutes for the steam to clear, but it's probably for the best.
My reflection is jarring.
Despite my pregnancy, my face is thinner. Under my eyes? Dark and hollow. My skin looks crepey and weather-beaten, and my hair is half-braids, half new growth.
I've seen enough.
I put on underwear and crawl under the covers, yanking them over my head, shutting out the world.
I think maybe this happened too fast. Because for the life of me, I can’t understand why I’m not happy. Why I’m not relieved. Instead, I just feel like I’m trapped between two pillars of my life: before the island and after the island.
It’s sounds crazy to even think it, but maybe we should have been…slowly weaned off. Maybe spent one more night there together and then sailed away slowly on a boat instead of beingairlifted out like it was a battlefield. Because it wasn’t. It was our home.
Something is wrong with me.
“Hey. You hungry?”
I peek out over the top of the comforter and see my other half.
“Mom said to leave you alone, but you know I ain’t listenin’ to her.”
I chuckle at that. “I’m always hungry.”
“Okay. Good. Dinner’s ready.”
I nod, but I don’t move.
“Do you wanna eat up here?” she asks, her face etched with worry. “Do you want some water? Or your vitamins?”
“I’m okay,” I snap. “Just…let me breathe.”
She frowns at that.
I pull myself up to a semi-recline, resting my back against the fabric tufted headboard. “When did y'all find out I was alive?”
Shara sits at the foot of the bed. “Last night.” She blows out a sigh. “It was a crazy night.”
“How’d they find us? Had they been searching this whole time?”
“No, they stopped searching, like, a month after,” she says, shaking her head. “It was the end of March, I think. Daddy’s the one who hired the private search team.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah. He cashed in his 401k.”
