Page 25 of Jayce

After I had Covid, I ventured into the ED, asking for help. I’m so thin, and whenever I eat during the day, I feel sick.

Instead of giving me answers, they wrote “anorexic” in my charts. My trust in doctors had already been hanging by a thread. Their failure to listen or help me snapped that thread.

I took matters into my own hands and began experimenting with waiting to eat until dinner. Since consuming one hearty meal a day, my stomach pains have disappeared. I’ve even put on a few pounds. Screw the know-it-all doctors., Their pride keeps them from helping anyone. I’ll do me.

Chapter 18

Jayce

Last night, Shay and I sat curled up on my leather couch while I listened to her read the words she wrote. I believe this brought us closer together.

Her main character’s name is Angela Lane. Named after Angela Lansbury, the actress from reruns of Murder She Wrote—some mystery show she loved watching growing up. Just like Jessica Fletcher, who wrote novels based on the murders she encountered and solved in her everyday life, Angela Lane writes a travel blog and while traveling the world finds herself entangled in murder cases she helps solve.

Shay has aspirations to write as many books in this series as Agatha Christie wrote with Hercule Poirot or Mrs. Marple.

I’ve never seen an episode of Murder She Wrote or read any of Agatha Christie’s works. The history lesson Shay gave me went over my head, as I knew nothing of them. Yet, I hung onto every word.

The passion oozing from her nonstop chatter made it clear how much she loved writing and traveling. I could never ask her to give up either of those things.

If children ever happen, I can see myself as a full-time dad. I’d even entertain hiring a nanny—one I haven’t seen naked—to ensure Shay could continue to devote herself to the things that make her heart sing.

I brought her book for the drive to Slidell for her therapist appointment. The timbre of Shay’s voice while she reads is my new favorite sound.

“Park here,” Shay says mid-sentence.

This therapy situation, and Shay’s uncomfortable attitude, adds to the mystery.

While I know little about her, she doesn’t seem like a woman with excess baggage requiring a shrink to guide her through hurts and hangups.

The heavens threaten to open any minute. Since she made me promise to let her walk in alone, I made her take an umbrella for later. The weather prediction was severe enough that schools in the area canceled classes for the day. I only know this because Priscilla didn’t have to drive the hour to the high school that she’s finishing out the year in as a teacher. Next year, she’ll join the school in the labyrinth as a teacher for our young.

Once Shay’s safely inside the little house nestled in an out of the way, side street, I pick her book up and continue reading where she left off.

The rain fell from the sky not long after she slipped behind the door.

Fourteen or twenty minutes after she left the truck, my phone screams at me with an emergency alert. It’s probably nothing, but I glance at it anyway. A tornado warning.

I think nothing of it until I look up at the sky. The green sky. While I’ve never been in a tornado, I know the heavens turning green can’t be a good thing.

I’m a sitting duck outside in my truck. My promise to remain put forgotten at the sound of a roaring train.

Without an umbrella of my own, I run through the pelting rain into the building Shay went into.

I’ve walked into a living room. Not a soul in sight. Muffled voices come from a room on the side.

The door opens. A very pregnant woman and Shay, who’s wrapped in a sheet from the waist down, emerge from the room in a panic. What the fuck kind of therapy is Shay having, runs through my head, but there’s no time to dwell on it.

“Is there a bathtub or a room without a window? We need to get to safety,” I say with haste. Water drips from my clothes onto the floor.

I’m torn between helping this pregnant doctor or Shay.

“There’s a bathtub. This way.” The doctor waddles about ten steps down a hallway.

I grab Shay by the hand to follow.

As the tornado roars overhead, the three of us huddle together in a cramped bathtub—the safest place to seek refuge from the raging storm.

The bathtub is barely big enough for three bodies. I pull Shay into my arms to make more room for the doctor and her protruding belly.

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