Page 45 of Ash
“Stop,” I order sharply and grab his shoulders. “You are your mom’s entire world. Her reason for everything.”
“And how fair is that, Ash?” He sniffles while moving away. “She gets nothing. Why? How is that fair?”
“It’s not,” I whisper. I remember thinking the same things when my mom was alone, working three and four jobs to make sure we had what we needed. The disappointment on her face whenever a date found out she had kids.
I look over at Sunday and let out a breath. “You’re right, it’s not fair.”
* * *
“How do you feel?”I ask Sunday as I fix the pillow behind her back.
“Charming, I am fine, stop mothering me, it’s weird,” she states flatly as she yawns. “Go home, you’ve been here since I got home hours ago. I don’t need a babysitter. Besides, don’t you have a convention coming up that you need to rest for?”
“That’s in a few days It’s fine,” I state while looking through her streaming account. “Have you seen this documentary?”
“Go. Home.” She groans out. “I promise, I can handle this myself. I always have. Wade is asleep, I’m laying down. Go.”
“Just because you always have doesn’t mean you should,” I snap while turning from the TV to her now stunned face. “If you want me to go for some reason, I will. But I’m going to go and lay in my bed and knock on that wall every twenty minutes and the one time I don’t get a knock in response, I’m coming right back over here.”
“W-what if I’m sleeping,” she breathes out and I shrug.
“Sounds like a problem you might want to figure out before I leave. Or, just let me stay.”
“Are you doing this because of the flowers? Because I’m not going to date Josh, not that it should matter to you.” I roll my eyes before looking back at the TV.
“Those flowers were stupid and impersonal. It looked like he just called a florist and said, ‘Give me two dozen roses’,” I scoff. “Like you are a red rose person.”
“Oh? And I’m not?” I side eye her.
“No, you aren’t. No one that knows you would say, ‘Oh yeah, that Sunday is definitely a red rose kind of girl’.”
“Yeah? And let me guess, I must be a sunflower girl, right?” She raises her brow and I shake my head.
“Nah, that’s not you either,” I state as I continue to glance at the list of documentaries.
“Okay, then what bouquet would you get me?” I turn to her as I set the remote down on the mattress.
“I wouldn’t, because you would find a bouquet of flowers to be impractical and a waste. I would get you flowers that you could plant and have all the time. Poppies if they are in the ground, but if I’m picking the type of flower that represents you as a human, I would have to build you a pond and get some lotus flowers. Because the lotus symbolizes growing up through the dark and the mud, and blooming into something bright and beautiful.”
Sunday sits, jaw slack as she just stares. After a moment she clears her throat. “Well, they probably didn’t have lotus flowers available at the florist,” she says simply, and I bark out a laugh.
“Thank you for earlier, by the way,” she says quietly, and I shrug.
“It only made sense for me to pick you up, it’s ridiculous that you guys wouldn’t just ask me,” I grumble as I settle on a documentary about Area 51 and hit play.
“No.” Sunday winces as she shifts. “I heard you and Wade talking.” Her voice catches and her gaze turns to the floor. “I thought it was the drugs, like when I was crying over those stupid flowers.” She huffs out a laugh. “But I know it wasn’t, I know what I heard.” She looks back at me, and I watch a single tear roll down her cheek.
I’m not sure I have actually seen Sunday cry. I mean, yeah, post seizure and then under anesthesia, but that one tear… it’s different, it’s breaking me in a completely foreign way.
“I can’t thank you enough for how good you are to my son.” She chokes out a sob as more tears fall. “And thank you for being such a good friend to me.” Her smile is sad, and I hate the way she said ‘friend’.
“I meant every word, Sunshine,” I say as I scoot up the bed next to her, staying above the blanket. “Wade is awesome, I love that kid.” That causes a sob to escape her followed by a groan of annoyance.
“Ugh! I’m sorry! I’m usually better at holding my emotions back.” She laughs , and I give her a small smile.
“It’s probably the pain meds, Sunshine.” I wink at her, but my playfulness drops and my breath hitches as she rests her head against my shoulder.
“Yeah,” she yawns, nestling closer. “Definitely the pain meds.”
