Page 12 of Waiting for Gilbert

No texts come through, just the appearance of more typing bubbles that disappear again.

Cordelia: KILLIN ME. SHORTER TEXTS. SEND NOW.

Diana: I’m convinced that Jack isn’t sick, it’s just regular baby stuff, but

Diana: The twins threw up in the car on the way home.

Cordelia: Gasp!!

Diana: Nathan’s out there now trying to scrape it up before it freezes to the seats. GAG.

Diana: I’ve showered the boys and they’re in bed, I’m nursing Jack and he feels a little warm. But Landon is already asleep and he NEVER goes down early.

Cordelia: Noooo… Pray tell DID YOU INFECT THE WHOLE TOOOOWWWN?

Diana: I feel nauseous, but it might be because I’ve helped change clothes and dealt with all the nasty…???

Cordelia: Boo! Noooooo!

Diana: So…

Cordelia: I’ll sleep under the bridge, thanks.

Diana: Right, so you need to talk to Dr. Nicole Brader.

Cordelia: I’m not sick YET!

Diana: Quit it.

Diana: Nickie is the one arranging the house you were going to rent, she’s still at the party. Remember how you were going to stay with me the next two weeks?

Cordelia: Uh, yes. I haven’t forgotten…

Diana: Yea, K. So I already talked with her. She says you can move in tonight and then if we’re lucky Jack didn’t spread too much love and you’ll escape whatever might be happening over here.

Cordelia: SIGGGHHHH. Whhhhyyyy are your kids always sick?

Diana: I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that and you’re not thinking about your poor self sleeping in a quiet house then getting up when you want and not because someone needs you to clean up a bodily fluid.

Diana: You’ll also enjoy watching an entire show without interruption, maybe drink your morning coffee while it’s still hot? You’re MORE than welcome to stay at my place and help manage puke through the night, change soiled sheets, rock feverish babies.

Diana: YOUR CHOICE

Cordelia: Sorry.

Diana: That’s right you are. So I’ll check in later.

Diana: And there goes Lauren. Crap.

Diana: Bye love ya. gtg

Cordelia: YOUCANDOHARDTHINGS. I love you!

With damp hair in a bun and sporting my new favorite borrowed sweatshirt, I play games for two hours with about a dozen others while Aunt Jewels washes and dries my clothes. She pumps us full of the most amazing peppermint hot chocolate—and no matter how desperately I beg her for the recipe she won’t give it up. She keeps calling us “kids” which is funny since she’s lumped Mr. and Mrs. Nilsson in that label, and they must be at least mid-fifties.

This is the most relaxed yet stimulating party I’ve ever attended. Nobody acts weird about “getting to know the new girl” but also nobody ignores me. It’s as if they all said, “Oh, hey! CJ’s here. Cool, cool. Let’s play games.” And yes, I’ve been introducing myself as CJ. I think it fits my new self better than Cordelia. CJ is chill. More focused. A little serious. She’s not as whimsical and impulsive as Cordelia.

I totally play it cool about Gilbert Conner and the fact that his name is Gilbert. It helps that he left before I returned to the party, refreshed from my bath. Most of the people hadn’t seen me before the Jack fiasco and are none the wiser that I’ve been naked across the house. Sorry to fixate on this, but until you’ve taken a bath in a stranger’s house in the middle of a party, I’m not sure you can fully understand.

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