Page 68 of Wrap Around
GIDEON
The screen lags about two seconds behind the audio, just enough to make watching the game on this shitty streaming service feel even more excruciating.
This sucks.
Being benched is bad enough, but staying home sick for two entire weeks is bullshit. Zero stars. I’m only a week into my mandatory COVID isolation and I’m going stir crazy. Considering this is only the second day that I’ve spent more than three hours awake at a time, that says more about me than it does the team’s health and safety requirements.
I hate this. I hate having to stay home while my team struggles. I hate having Lily hover over me like a mother hen, and I hate that I’m jealous of Silas’ superhuman immune system. He never gets sick.
I’m technically through the worst of it, according to Dr. Raj and my sister’s overconfident lips-to-forehead diagnostic technique. My fever broke the night before yesterday, but the body aches are rough. How can I feel so sore from doing absolutely nothing?
“Want the heating pad again?”
“No,” I grump, watching as one of the new guys makes a perfect breakaway and fires a clean shot at the Firebirds’ goal, tying up the score. He’s an unaffiliated player that Coach scraped up from the East Coast League to meet roster minimums since a huge chunk of his team out sick.
“Nice shot,” Lily mutters to herself, as she plugs in the heating pad and tries to position it behind my back.
“I can do that,” I snap, mostly sarcastically, considering I don’t do anything to take it from her and do it myself. She’d just fuss with it and readjust it anyway. “I’m a big boy, Mommy.”
She raises a pointedly unimpressed eyebrow in my direction. I’m wrapped up in a fuzzy pink blanket I stole from Addy’s room, wearing Rick and Morty pajama pants and my boyfriend’s hoodie. There’s tissue shoved up my nostrils to catch the faucet-like drip, and I’m taking up an entire half of the huge sectional sofa, sprawled out on my stomach and cradling my head in a throw pillow that says SCREAM HERE in large block letters.
“Just you wait until Addy starts public preschool in the fall,” she says. “The last time she did any sort of playgroup back home, she constantly brought home the crud. Stomach viruses, colds, flu, you name it, she’s brought it home. Kids are petri dishes.”
My lips twitch. I kind of like that she expects that I’m still going to be crowding their space that far into the future. She didn’t even skip a beat. It’s good to know she doesn’t mind that I’ve been crashing here for weeks. I expected that I would go back to my condo to isolate from everyone. I don’t want to get Addy sick, most of all. But they weren’t having it. I isolated myself in Silas’ bedroom, from everyone but Silas, of course. He almost single-handedly took care of me those first few rough days. Not that I couldn’t have done just fine on my own, but it was kind of nice,in a way. I guess. If you like being hovered over and coddled and petted like some kind of invalid house-cat.
“Well, let’s hope I’m not still squatting come fall.”
She scoffs. “You’re the only one that doesn’t realize you already live here, dummy.”
“I know I’ve been here a lot, but I still do have my own place.”
“You should sell it, or rent it out, or something,” Lily says, her attention focused on the TV. “Besides, that place is creepy. It looks like Patrick Bateman lives there, but with less personality.”
“Maybe I should consider putting down some newspaper.”
“Hey, do you like Huey Lewis and The News?”
I bark out a laugh, but it comes out as a cough. “Why am I surprised you’ve seen that movie?”
“Because I’m supposed to be a mindless little church mouse who doesn’t have interests beyond her bible and how she can be of service to her husband, father, and God,” she deadpans.
“Harlot.”
“Abomination.”
I snort, and it triggers a coughing fit that I have to sit up to clear. She passes me the now-cold cup of tea that she made me earlier.
The game commentary picks up, noting that there’s just over a minute left in the period. If we don’t score now, we’ll have to go into overtime.
“You really don’t mind me being here? Permanently, I mean?”
“Do you not feel how seamlessly you’ve fit in here? It’s like you’ve always been here. The way it was supposed to be.” She eyes me. “Do I need to check your temperature again? Because you’re delirious if you think you aren’t an integral part of this family.And I’ve never seen Silas this happy before. We’re all happier now that you’re here.”
“I think part of me is waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like this is all too good to be true. What —”
“What if nothing, Gid. Like I said, you’re the only one that hasn’t figured it out yet. This is the new normal, big brother. Although I’m starting to think we should switch rooms. Y’all need one farther away from the rest of the house, and a private bathroom.”
I cough-laugh again. “You’re horrible.”
