Page 34 of Screw Christmas
I had no idea what she remembered. What she didn’t. Was she out of the hospital by now?
“Hey buddy, you doing okay?”
I looked across the hallway and into the cell of a dark-haired man who had been brought in last night piss drunk and spent most of the day snoring on the cot. I could still faintly smell the alcohol wafting across the room. He didn’t seem to be perturbed by his current situation—this certainly wasn’t his first time in jail. Of course, it wasn’t my first time either, but it had been nearly two decades since I’d been sitting in jail.
“I’m in jail so how do you think I’m doing?”
Sitting up, he smirked at me. “I’m taking it there’s somewhere you’d rather be?”
“You think?” I grimaced. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude. I’ve got things to do, and I’m stuck in this hellhole for a couple more days. God only knows what’s going on out there.”
“What are you in for?”
“I punched a cop.”
The other man laughed. “Yeah, may not have been your best choice. Why’d you do it?”
I was about to tell him that I didn’t want to be bothered discussing my life, but as I looked around me, did I really have anything better to do?
“It’s a long story.”
The man in the other cell, laid back down on the cot and laced his fingers behind his head. “Good thing we have lots of time.”
~*~ TT ~*~
Maya
“Thank you for dinner.” I sank back into the sofa and smiled. I was hungrier than I’d expected eating all of what he’d ordered for me and some of his. I should have felt bad but didn’t. Hospital food sucked.
He grinned as he began to pick up the empty containers. “As long as you’re feeling better that’s all that matters.”
“I can help clean up.” Despite my statement, I didn’t make a move to help.
Cocking a brow up at me, his grin widened. “Yeah, I see how gung-ho you are over the idea. Let me take care of it. I want you to relax.”
“Thanks. I think I’ll be heading to bed soon. I’ve been sleeping for days, but I’m still exhausted. I don’t know how that’s even possible.”
“You wouldn’t even be going through this bullshit if it wasn’t for that asshole stepbrother of yours.”
“Yeah…”
The room grew silent as he began to clean up the kitchen.
Pushing myself up from the sofa, I made my way into the bedroom. The bed was made which made me frown. I never made the bed, and Aaron was even worse than I was, unless he had turned over a new leaf.
“Since when did you become a bed maker?” I teased as I searched through my dresser for a pair of pajamas checking numerous drawers until I finally found them.
Aaron stuck his head in the bedroom and shrugged, looking over to the bed. “What are you talking about? I always make the bed.”
Turning from him, I frowned at the bed. But he didn’t…did he? “I keep feeling like I’m going crazy.” I tried to laugh it off, but this lack of memory was frustrating. How did people with dementia and Alzheimer’s manage with having chunks of their lives just disappear? Those poor people. It was horrible and I prayed I would never have to deal with it in my elder years.
“Oh baby, it’ll all make sense soon.” Coming up behind me, he wrapped his arms around me and kissed the side of my neck. I froze in his arms, not sure how to react, clutching the pajamas to my chest.
Sensing my hesitation, he gently spun me around to look up at him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
I was far from fucking okay.
