“What are you thinking?” Jules appears in the living room. “You look like you’re lost in la-la land.”
“I was thinking about Oliver. How could Audrey risk her life when she had a son? It makes no sense.”
“I don’t know.” Jules gently pushes my legs over and takes a seat. “It was accidental, I’m sure.”
Just then, there’s a knock on the door. Jules shoots me a confused look and I shrug. She hands me her iPad and walks over to answer it.
“Speak of the devil,” she says. “Mr. Oliver. What can I do for you?”
“I made a card. Uncle Gunnar said Jen wasn’t feeling good. Mrs. Gibson helped me.”
“He was adamant about bringing it down,” I hear an unfamiliar voice say. “I hope that’s all right.”
“Of course,” Jules says. “Come on in.”
She steps out of the way to let Oliver and the woman inside. The couch is in view from the front door and Oliver’s eyes light up when he sees me. “Jen!” he says and runs over. “I made this for you.” He holds out a folded sheet of white paper.
I smile and take it from him. “Thank you. Is it a get well card?”
He nods. “I asked Uncle Gunnar if we could take you with us to the aquarium again and he said we couldn’t because you were sick.” He sits down next to me. “When will you be better?”
“Soon,” I say. I look down at the card. The front is covered in multi-colored blobs that look like the letter S. They also have eyes. “Are these seahorses?”
He smiles. “Yep.”
I open the paper and find “Get Well Soon Jen from Oliver” written in uneven capital letters. On the opposite side of the page is a blue fish. I can tell it’s a shark by the crooked teeth.
“This is one awesome card,” I say. How sweet is this kid? I wrap my arm around Oliver’s shoulders and squeeze. “I feel better all ready.”
He grins.
“Is this Jaws?” I ask and point to the shark. “He’s scary.”
“Nope. It’s Bruce from Finding Nemo. Have you seen that movie?”
I shake my head.
“It’s really funny,” he says. He looks at the woman who brought him. “Can we watch Finding Nemo with Jen?” He turns back to me. “I have the DVD.”
“I don’t know about that,” the woman says. “Your friend needs her rest.”
Oliver’s face falls.
“Actually,” I say, “we aren’t doing anything but sitting here. I don’t mind if he wants to watch it. Jules?”
She shrugs. “Sounds good to me. I think we might even have some popcorn.”
“I’ll go get the movie!” Oliver jumps up.
“Hold on,” the woman says. “I still have laundry to take care of upstairs. I’m supposed to be watching you, not these ladies.”
“You can leave him with us, Mrs. Gibson,” Jules says. “Go do what you have to do. He’ll be fine here.”
“You’re sure?” she asks. “I don’t want to impose.”
“Absolutely.”
Oliver leaves with his babysitter to get the DVD and Jules heads to find popcorn. “I’m making you chicken broth,” she hollers to me from the kitchen.
Twenty minutes later Oliver returns with the movie. We hit the lights, get settled on the couch, and press play on the remote. Oliver sits next to me, sharing the bowl of popcorn with Jules as I now sip broth instead of tea. The opening scene shows a clownfish couple joking around at their new sea anemone home. They’re expecting tons of fish babies. It’s cute and playful, until tragedy strikes.
This is awful, I think. We’re not even ten minutes in. I shoot Jules a worried look over Oliver’s head. Should he be watching this? I know it’s supposed to be a kid’s movie, but come on. Oliver lost his own mother in real life. “O,” I say. “I thought you said this was funny.”
“It is,” he says. “Just wait.”
To the kid’s credit, the story does get better as it progresses. Dory cracks me up, along with the surfer sea turtles. Oliver giggles uncontrollably at the sea gulls, then again when Nemo’s new friends attack a little girl named Darla.
By the end of the movie I’m emotionally invested. I can’t stop myself from tearing up. I glance at Jules and notice she’s having the same problem. She wipes beneath her eyes as I try to blink my tears away. Damn Disney movies. Is it their goal to turn people into emotional wrecks? I remember when I saw Bambi as a kid. I was so scarred that I forbid my father to hunt that fall. Of course he didn’t listen. When he brought home a doe I refused to eat the venison in protest.
When the movie ends, I look down at Oliver. He’s sound asleep against my side. I could have sworn he was awake a second ago, when he scooted closer to me.
Jules gets up and turns off the TV. She glances from Oliver to me and whispers, “I’ll go tell Mrs. Gibson the movie is over.”
Oliver looks so peaceful I don’t have the heart to wake him. “Tell her he’s asleep. I doubt she’ll be able to carry him. We’ll take him home in the morning.”
“You sure?” Jules asks. “I don’t think you can stand without moving him.”
I nod. “If you prop his feet up I think he’ll slide down on his side.”
Jules moves Oliver’s legs and my idea works. He snuggles down into the couch cushions on his own. Jules finds a blanket for him while I stand and carefully stretch. I think about moving to my own bed, but don’t want to leave the kid all alone. What if he wakes up in the middle of the night and freaks out when he’s not in his room?
“I’m going to sleep out here,” I tell Jules. “I don’t want him to wake up and get scared.”
“As long as you’re comfortable.” She gives me a warning look. “I don’t need you busting a stitch.”
She leaves to inform Mrs. Gibson of our plan and I head to the bathroom for another pain pill. After I drink half a glass of water, I crawl beneath the blanket I’ve been under all day and stretch my legs behind Oliver. Our heads are at opposite ends of the couch, so I can see his face when I lift my head off the pillow. By the time Jules comes back, I’m barely coherent. Pain medication, a healing body, and emotional cartoons don’t mix. I’m exhausted.
“Good night,” she whispers from the hallway. “Let me know if you need anything.”
I wave with a floppy hand. “’Night.”
~~~~~
Around three a.m. something wakes me. I open one eye and look at the clock before lifting my head to check on Oliver. He’s still asleep. I hear a door close and assume Pete is home. Slowly, I move from my side to my back to get comfortable, then close my eyes again.
Moments later, I can see light behind my eyelids. They flutter open. A shadow is standing over me, illuminated from behind. It takes a few good blinks to focus, and I realize it’s Latson. He must have turned on the kitchen light. He wears an odd expression; one I can’t place.
“What are you doing here?” I rasp in a sleepy voice. “Where’s Pete?”
“In his room.” He crouches down. “I came to get Oliver so you can go to bed.”
“He’s fine. Don’t wake him.”
Latson shakes his head. “The kid would sleep through an earthquake. Let me get him out of your way.”
“He’s not a problem,” I say, but it’s too late. Latson stands and scoops up his nephew, cradling him against his chest. The kid doesn’t even twitch.
He takes a few steps, then looks over his shoulder. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
“Why?”
He doesn’t answer. He leaves the apartment with Oliver and I’m left alone in the living room. I consider ignoring him and going to bed, but for some reason I don’t. I’m curious to see what he wants.
I’m almost asleep again by the time he returns. When I hear the door open, my eyes meet his. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he walks over to me and moves the blanket. Then, he slides one arm under my knees and the other around my waist.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
He picks me up. “Helping you. You just had surgery.”
“I can walk,” I protest, but wrap my arms around his neck anyway.
He looks straight ahead as he carries me down the hallway. I notice the muscles in his jaw tense, like he wants to say something but he’s holding back. My guess is he doesn’t want to be near me after our last conversation, but feels obligated because I spent time with Oliver. I try to relieve his conscience. “This really isn’t necessary.”