Page 27 of If All Else Sails
There’s a pile of laundry in front of the ancient washing machine at the back of the room. I should probably have started a load, but I couldn’t bear the idea of potentially touching Wyatt’s underwear.
“I’m questioning whether I made the right choice in not taking him to the hospital,” I tell Jacob. “Or calling an ambulance, since in his current state, I’m not sure I can lift him into a car. How’s his insurance?”
“Not an issue. Look—he had surgery, but it’s been a month. Long enough that I’m sure it’s not an infection at the incision site.” He pauses. “Probably.”
“Jacob.”
“No, really. I think waiting to see if the fever goes down is a good idea. I can give you his doctor’s number if you want.”
“Yes. Absolutely. Why do you even have his doctor’s number?”
A brief pause. “Wyatt put me down as his emergency contact. They called me when he stopped going to his appointments or answering his phone.”
I turn off the water, letting my hands drip-dry in the sink as I mull this over. I’m not sure why it shocks me. Jacob and Wyatt are good friends. But again—where is Wyatt’s family? Does he seriously have no friends besides my brother—who loves Wyatt, yes, but also has a vested financial interest in his recovery? I assume he doesn’t have a girlfriend or I wouldn’t be here.
Is Wyatt’s circle of support really so small?
The thought makes me want to march right in where he’s sleeping and give him a hug. Almost.
“You still there?” Jacob asks.
“Yeah. Just thinking.”
“Thinking you might stay for sure?” He sounds so hopeful.
The thing is—I do want to stay. Or, rather, I feel like Ineedto stay. Not just for the money, though I absolutely plan on price gouging my brother. I don’t like the idea of Wyatt out here with no one. Not when he seems so unwell. And possibly self-destructive.
It has nothing to do with him saying I’m so pretty in his feverish state, something I wish I could forget.
He might have been talking about something else anyway— not me. He didn’t sayYou’re so pretty, Josie.Just...So pretty.Maybe he meant the curtains behind me. Maybe the fever made him hallucinate something—orsomeone—pretty.
In any case, those two words aren’t factoring in to my desire to stay, though they do keep whispering through me like a faint heartbeat.
“I’m still a maybe.” I quickly add, “Though I don’t know how long I’ll stay. If I do. Maybe just until this fever is under control. Absolutely not weeks or a month like you mentioned before. I don’t like being away from home that long.”
“It’s not like you’ve got pets or anything to get back to,” Jacob says. “Do you even have any plants?”
“Yes,” I say defensively.
Though they’re fake. I don’t have the best track record with living plants. I seem to personally offend them somehow, and every one I’ve ever bought has shriveled up and died with prolonged exposure to me. The succulents too.
It’s almost a talent. Too bad I can’t monetize it.
I refuse to tell Jacob this, however, because he’s making my life seem insignificant—which is completely unfair. I know for a fact he also has zero pets and zero plants. He does occasionally have girlfriends, even if they never seem to last long. They’ve got a shorter lifespan than my doomed houseplants. Still, it’s better than my sad love life. More like my sadlackof a love life.
Toni has been trying to convince me to get out there for years now. She insists that if I do, I will find good men out there, ones who will treat me like a queen.
To which I typically reply:Does such a mythical creature exist?
In an attempt to prove that it does, Toni has introduced me to a number of “nice” guys in group settings. I’ve been on a handful of awkward first and second dates. They were fine. Like a meal you enjoyed but never thought about repeating. Therewas never a pull or a sense that I wanted to see any of them again.
The very last date I went on was when Toni strong-armed me into going out with an art teacher from her middle school. It took her an entire school semester to wear me down before I finally agreed. Five minutes later I regretted saying yes.
And ten minutes into the date with him, I got back in my car and left.
Joe—who had gold hoops in his ears like a pirate, a detail Toni left out—told me we were going to do something creative but wouldn’t say more than that.
“Should I dress up or dress comfortably?” I asked, already feeling the pinch of panic that comes from new situations.
