Chaos Palette

26.

The air crackled with festive anticipation. Tinsel glinted under the soft glow of fairy lights, and the scent of pine filled the spacious living room. Ryle, dressed in a comfortable sweatsuit, held a thick, cable-knit sweater in his hands. 

"Let me guess," he couldn't resist a sarcastic chuckle, "matching ugly Christmas sweaters?"

Lilith, perched precariously on a step stool, her arms laden with colorful ornaments, shot him a playful glare.  "It's tradition, Ryle. And yes, they're magnificent. Now hold that still so I can hang this reindeer."

The afternoon unfolded in a flurry of activity.  Lilith, who was vertically challenged, necessitating Ryle's assistance with the higher branches of the Christmas tree.  She guided him with incorrect lefts and rights.

As Lilith's phone rang, the room pulsed with a harsh, white light.  Ryle's vision blurred, a wave of nausea washing over him.  Disoriented, he stumbled backward, knocking over a basket of ornaments that shattered on the floor with a cacophony of tinkling glass. Lilith cursed under her breath and she quickly reached to silence her phone.

His breath hitched as a familiar tremor rippled through his body.  Panic flared in Lilith's eyes, a stark echo of the fear he'd witnessed during his last seizure.  But she reacted quickly, drawing on the memory of Laura's instructions.  She gently lowered him to the ground, clearing a space for him to breathe.She gently dimmed the lights, plunging the room into a twilight gloom.  She then drew the curtains, shutting out the harsh afternoon sun.

The seizure, like the previous one, was mercifully brief.  As consciousness flickered back, Ryle found himself enveloped in a comforting darkness.  He let out a frustrated sigh, the taste of frustration acrid in his mouth.  A string of curses tumbled out in a torrent of anger.  He slammed his fist against the floor, the sound muffled by the plush carpet.

"Ryle!" Lilith's voice, laced with concern, cut through his haze.  She knelt beside him, her hand reaching out to touch his arm.  "Hey, it's okay. You're alright."

He swatted her hand away, his frustration morphing into self-pity.  "Alright?  This isn't alright, Lilith!"

Lilith understood. Silence descended, broken only by his ragged breaths.  Lilith knew words wouldn't help him right now.  He needed space to process his emotions.  With a soft sigh, she settled onto the couch, scrolling through her phone, searching for information on post-surgical seizures.

An hour later, Ryle emerged from the workout room, his hair wet and the smell of his shampoo filling the place. He was wearing the sweater Lilith got him earlier. Despite the turmoil within him, he attempted to lighten the mood.  "Well, that was productive," he announced, pouring two cups of red wine. He sat next to Lilith on the couch and handed her a cup of wine, but she rejected it.

"I think I've discovered the true purpose of ugly Christmas sweaters," he quipped, pulling at the fabric of his sweater. "They're not just fashion statements; they're portable heat sources. I'm about two degrees from spontaneous combustion."

Lilith could see through his facade.  His playful grin didn't reach his eyes, and his voice lacked its usual humor.  "Ryle," she began, her voice firm but gentle.  "This isn't a joke.  You need to see your doctor."

He bristled at her words.  "What's the doctor going to say, Lilith?  'Congratulations, you get to enjoy a lifetime of surprise seizures?'"  His voice hardened, but the anger was laced with a hint of despair. He took a large gulp of wine.

He opened his mouth to argue further, but the words died on his tongue.  Sensing the hurt and worry etched in Lilith's tone, the fight drained out of him.  He pulled her into a tight embrace, his voice a husky murmur against her hair.

"Alright, alright," he conceded.  "I'll call him tomorrow.  First thing."

Lilith clung to him, relief washing over her.  She buried her face in his chest, tears soaking through his sweater.  He held her close, a silent promise hanging in the air. 

A crash from the living room drew their attention. Lucy, the mischievous feline, had taken a swipe at the Christmas tree, sending a bauble tumbling to the floor.  Lilith and Ryle exchanged a look, a flicker of amusement breaking the tension.

A soft smile tugged at Ryle's lips.  "Looks like someone else wants to be involved in the decorating," he said, his voice tinged with a newfound lightness.

The phone vibrated in Lilith's hand, shattering the fragile peace, once again.  A quick glance at the screen revealed a call from Julia.

"Hey, Julia, I think I won't make it—" Lilith was cut off as she was already formulating an excuse.

Ryle snatched the phone playfully before she could complete her sentence.  "She'll be there," he interjected, his voice laced with a hint of sarcasm, though a playful glint flickered in his eyes.  "Important Christmas shopping, right?"

Lilith shot him a disapproving look, but a small part of her appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood.  As Julia prattled on about needing Lilith's "expert opinion" on something "crucial,"  Lilith ended the call with a vague promise to be there soon.

Hanging up, she turned to Ryle, her voice laced with concern.  "I am not leaving you alone."

He reached out, cupping her face in his hand, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear.  "Hey," he said softly, his voice warm and reassuring.  "Don't worry about me.  I'll be here, baking the best cookies ever," he added, a mischievous glint in his emerald eyes, "between you and me, I think Julia needs your holiday cheer more than I do."

Lilith couldn't help but smile at his playful demeanour.  Despite the lingering unease about his health, his attempt to act normal warmed her heart.  She leaned into his touch, her worries momentarily soothed.

"Alright," she conceded, a playful smile mirroring his own.  "But you promise to be careful?  And call your doctor first thing tomorrow, no arguments?"

Ryle brushed his lips against hers, a silent promise exchanged in the kiss.  "I promise, love," he murmured against her lips.

Pulling away, he winked at her.  "Now go conquer whatever fashion crisis Julia has gotten herself into.  And tell her drama king says hello."

Lilith chuckled, shaking her head at his teasing.  With a final lingering look, she grabbed her coat and purse, the weight of his recent episode still heavy in her heart.  She decided to take a walk to the mall to meet Julia. As she stepped out into the crisp December air, she knew this holiday season wouldn't be the picture-perfect Christmas they'd envisioned.