The Day

(34) Didn't Want To Know

Chapter Thirty Four

<This is the second to last chapter guys… I will probably post the last one tomorrow, or maybe later tonight. Brace yourselves, I know I am. And please vote! :)

Thanks! :D And enjoy!!!

                “Hailee. Hailee, you coming?”

                I snapped out of my reverie and looked at Alex, who was standing at the passenger side of his car, the door open. I narrowed my eyes at him. “What?”

                “Meg and I begged your mom to let you out after what happened last week. Are you coming?” he asked impatiently.

                “What are you talking about?” I mumbled, casting my eyes to the ground.

                It had been a week since the Thanksgiving party. Or my small meltdown, I should say. I imagined that I saw Brent. I even dreamt about him coming into my room that night. My mother thought I was pretty much crazy, how I could imagine all these things and believe that they were so true.

                I told her they were true, that he had come to see me. But of course, she didn’t believe me. She told me that she’d called Brent’s mother, and that he wasn’t back yet. No one had any idea where he was.

                So I did what I do best. I blocked everything out, and refused to get up from bed. No amount of coercion from my parents or even Meg or Alex would make me move. You’d expect that I slept the whole time. But I didn’t. My eyes were trained on the door, waiting for Brent to come in and tell me that it was all a mistake, that he had meant to come visit me more, but he’d been so busy.

                There was a time when I had contracted a bad case of the flu. I could barely breathe without wanting to cry because of how tight and sore my throat was. I was constantly coughing, and my whole body was sore and tender. My eyes were teary from the pain of the pounding forehead that I had, and with my fever you might’ve been able to fry an egg on my forehead.

                Brent had come over as soon as I came back from the doctor. He had chicken soup in one hand, cough syrup in the other. He snuggled under the covers with me and spoon-fed me the soup no matter how much I refused, giving me the cough syrup when I begged. I slept on the crook of his elbow a lot that time. We watched an endless amount of movies, and when my nose began to get runny, he had an endless supply of Kleenex to quickly wipe away any nasal drip.

                The whole sickness in itself lasted about a week, and Brent missed school to be with me, to nurse me back to health. His parents didn’t mind though, as three days in, he contracted what I had and soon we were both hacking and sniffling. The room smelt of vapor rub and sickness. But there he was, with me, not caring about anything else but my health.

                That’s what I expected him to come and do. I wasn’t sick, of course, but I wanted him to appear at my door and crawl under the covers with me and cry about how happy he was to see me. Then everything would be absolutely fine.