Page 47 of Trusting Easton

“Who are you talking about?” Jenna asks, following my mom to the pantry.

“We have plenty of soup and crackers,” my mom says. “I’ll just get the juice for now.”

“You’re getting groceries?” Jenna whines. “You said you’d take me to the mall.”

My mom turns to face her. “Jenna, for the last time, we are not going shopping today. Go call up one of your friends and see if you can go to their house, or you can have them come over here. Whatever you’d like.”

“But you said I could get a new coat!” Jenna follows my mom down the hall that goes to the garage, her voice getting louder. “I want that one I showed you.”

I hear the door to the garage slam shut.

“Mom!” Jenna yells. She stomps back to the kitchen. “What the fuck is going on with Mom?”

“She’s probably tired of you wanting shit all the time,” I say, going to the fridge to get a bottle of water.

“I hate this family!” Jenna yells, storming out of the kitchen.

My mom actually stood up to Jenna. She usually gives in and does whatever Jenna tells her. Actually, that’s not really true. It’s my dad that gives in to Jenna and forces my mom to go along with it. He doesn’t have the patience for Jenna’s outbursts and whining so he just gives her what she wants to shut her up. He’s not that way with me, but I don’t throw tantrums like she does. I didn’t even do that when I was younger. If I wanted something, like a new bike or a toy, I had to make a case for it. My dad didn’t just give it to me like he does Jenna. Is it because she’s daddy’s little girl, or because she’s biologically his and I’m not?

I never thought about that until now. I always thought he was stricter with me because I’m a boy and I’m the oldest, and maybe that’s true, but I wouldn’t be surprised if part of the reason he spoils Jenna is because she’s his kid.

A few minutes later I go down to the basement. I quietly make my way to Nova’s room and open the door. She’s sound asleep in the bed, sleeping on her side. I walk over to her and set the bottle of water on the nightstand. The glass of water my mom brought her is still there, with barely any of the water gone.

Leaning down to her, I press my lips to her forehead. I just barely kissed her, but it was enough to wake her.

“Sean?” she whispers, her eyes closed.

“I’m right here.” I peel the damp strands of her hair off her forehead. Her skin feels even hotter than it did earlier. How did she get sick this fast? She seemed okay when I found her this morning. She looked pale and tired, but I thought that was because she hadn’t been sleeping. I guess when I think back to when I’ve had the flu, it happened really fast, like I’d go to school and feel fine but then feel horrible by the afternoon.

“I’m going to let you sleep,” I whisper. “I’ll check on you later.” I kiss her cheek. “I love you.”

When I leave her room, I find my mom standing just outside the door. Did she hear me tell Nova I love her? I don’t care if she did. If my mom hasn’t figured out by now that I love Nova, then she hasn’t listened to a word I’ve said.

“How’s she doing?” my mom whispers as I shut the door.

“I think her fever’s getting worse.”

My mom holds up the digital thermometer. “I was just about to check it. The fever means her body’s fighting the illness. It’s not necessarily a bad thing. Why don’t you go upstairs? I’ll be up there in a minute.”

She goes into Nova’s room while I go wait in the kitchen. My phone keeps going off with texts from Jace and Kevin, wanting to go do shit. They wanted me to go to the gym with them this morning, but I didn’t feel like it. I’m glad I didn’t go. If I had, I never would’ve taken that drive that led me to Nova. She would’ve spent today in Ted’s car, freezing and sick, with no one to help her.

My mom comes into the kitchen, going to the sink to wash her hands. “Her temp is 102. If it goes any higher, we’ll have to take her to a clinic.”

I don’t try to talk her out of it. I’m not letting Nova get even sicker because she’s too stubborn to see a doctor.

“About your game tonight,” my mom says, turning to me as she dries her hands on a towel. “Your father’s going to meet us there. And then he’s leaving for the airport.” She doesn’t look at me as she says it, and she seems nervous, like she didn’t want to tell me this.

“Where’s he going?”

“Houston. He has meetings there next Monday and Tuesday. If they go well, he might stay there the rest of the week.”

“What’s in Houston?”

“He’s hoping to acquire a bank there. Well, several. Apparently, it’s a big deal. He’s been working on it for months.” She wipes the counter with the towel, then hangs it on the metal handle of the stove.

“Mom, is something wrong?”

“No.” She smiles, but it seems fake. “I just have a lot going on.”

---