Page 54 of Enemies to Lobsters
Yeah, right. “You need electrolytes. Do you think you could sip on something?” I ask, texting a shopping list to Stevie. If she meets me at the shore it'll save me twenty minutes, and that's twenty minutes Diana won’t have to be alone in her misery. Luckily, Stevie is pro-Wentworth marriage. She agrees quickly.
My question to Diana is met with soft snoring. I watch her for a minute, because it’s not creepy when you’re legally wed, right? I’ll be the first to admit that I’m incapable of saying no. It’s a flaw that gets me into trouble. But this woman with the matted hair and the wrinkled T-shirt that’s going in the fireplace the minute she’s not looking? I’d do any dang thing for her—including making a big pot of my cure-all chicken soup. That broth is the closest thing to magic I have for Diana.
So I row over and meet Stevie, who passes me a few plastic bags from the market with minimal razzing.
“It’s cute that you’re taking care of Diana, you know,” she says as I arrange the bags into our little blue rowboat. “Are you making your soup?” Stevie has been the recipient of a Tupperware full of magic soup a time or two.
“Yeah. Whatever Diana’s got is pretty awful.” I cringe, letting my face fill in the gaps in my description.
“Wait, did she have any pineapple?” Stevie squints. The fall sun is extra bright today. “I’ve only ever seen her get bad like that when she’s accidentally eaten pineapple. That stuffmesses her up.”
I think back on the prior evening. “I don’t think so. She had her crab, and the cucumbers and dip, I guess…” I trail off. I was distracted by the Red Sox fighting for their lives. In the end they barely skidded past the Yankees. I haven’t broken the news to Diana yet. It might finish her off.
Stevie breaks into my thoughts. “Oh, and she had a bunch of shrimp.”
Then it registers. The dip. “Aw, crap. August’s stupid shrimp dip. It has pureed pineapple in it.” I would know. I gave him the recipe. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it.
Stevie winces. “Well, it’ll pass. It’s not the first time this has happened. She’s lucky she has you this time around.” My friend waves, backing up the shore toward her car. “I need to get going. I gotta get over to Marlow’s and let the townspeople know that Dr. Wentworth poisoned your wife.”
I chuckle. August will love that. “Thanks, Stevie.”
∞∞∞
A few hours later, my big pot of magic soup is almost ready, but Diana is still asleep. I step lightly up the stairs to check on her, a Gatorade in one hand and a big mug of steaming broth in the other. I don’t bother knocking this time. I know she’s still face down on her bed.
Except she’s not. There’s a Diana imprint on the unmade bed, but no Diana. Then the bathroom door opens before I have a chance to sneak to the stairs. She emerges in a cloud of steam, a white towel twisted on top of her head and wrapped in a thick, loosely tied, white robe. Huh. That’s new. My mouth might be hanging open. I clamp it shut. Turns out I’m a big fan of bathrobes.
“Oh.” She pulls the terry cloth tight around herself. “What’s that?” I can’t tell if her pink cheeks are from the hot shower, the loose robe, or from what she knows I heard last night. And this morning.
“I brought you—I brought some soup and some Gatorade for you.”And I’m not looking at the edges of your robe.“I didn’t mean to catch you in your—not that I saw anything. You pulled it together just in time.” What is happening with my mouth? I’m so focused on monitoring the direction of my eyes that my tongue is totally unsupervised.
Diana drops on the corner of her bed, slumping in a way that reminds me I didn’t come up here to ogle her. She’s sick, and I hate that.
“Okay, scooch.” I gesture to her pillow. “Get back in there.”
“Ike, I need to feel human.” The words slur out of her mouth. “I need to get out of this bed.” She starts to stand, but wobbles.
My hands are full, but I do my best to wrap an arm around her shoulder to keep her upright. “Okay. Get some clothes on, and I’ll help you downstairs.”
She yanks the tie on her robe in one swift movement, and the front flies open.
“Aaack!” I look at the ceiling. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not naked under this thing.” She snorts. “Did you think I was naked?” She sways into me.
I catch her. “No. Of course not.” Only now do I dare look. She’s wearing those pink pajama shorts again. She’s going to freeze in those.
“You thought I wasbucknekked.” She snorts again. Is she delirious?
I scoff. “Okay, let’s get you downstairs.” I leave the drinks on her nightstand and curl my arm back around her shoulder.
She leans into me easily. “Aww, you’re not going to carry me?” She snickers. “What a shame. That was fun last time.”
I ease her down the stairs. “You liked that?” I was under the impression she hated it.
“Oh, yes I did. It was sexy. Carried through the water by a hot fireman, are you kidding me? Woo.” She fans herself.
Okay, her walls have never been down like this. She’s either severely dehydrated, or August put some magic mushrooms in that dip along with the pineapple. Either way, I like this version of Diana compared to the one last night who wouldn't let me near her.
