May I: Drying Off

Cal was sitting on the couch, reading a book when he heard a door slam. Looking up from his place, he felt differently about that slam; recognized it as being the same sound Gillian produced when she was frustrated or worried.

So when he heard another slam—identical to the last—he had already placed his book on the coffee table and was looking out the window as she crossed the sidewalk and he was already at the door when she trailed up the stairs.

She was soaked from the pouring, steady sheets of rain that had fallen out of the sky.

He couldn’t miss the wailing from Sophie, or the sheer-panicked look on Gillian’s expression.

Without a doubt, he already knew something was wrong, before she could find the words to speak. His actions betrayed his expression as he shuffled everyone inside and closed the door.

“She’s burning up, and I didn’t know where else to go.”

Opening the door to let them in out of the rain—he took Sophie out of her arms—and closed it. He took one look at her and left these instructions, “I assume you know that you know where the blankets are.”

Her hand was grasping the edge of the banister, before he got the words out. She understood what he was trying to say as she slowly made her way upstairs. Sophie tried to fight to reach for her, but Gillian was already out of earshot as he brought the little girl into the kitchen and set her down on the counter. However, he soon found that only made her cry harder.

By the time that Gillian had come back down, he was trying to rock her, but was quite unsuccessful. He helped her wrap Sophie up, and then she took her back with a grateful expression. She turned her attention to rocking Sophie, and was only aware when he wrapped the other blanket around her shoulders.

“Thanks.” She sniffled, from being out in the cold. Truth was, they would have stayed out in the rain longer, if he hadn’t of opened the door immediately after they had gotten out of the car. “You never told me what you do when she’s away.”

“I read.” He answered swiftly, looking her over. “You’re positively soaked.” He pointed out, leaning against the staircase. She could tell that he was wondering how that was even possible. 

With Sophie, screaming in her arms, Gillian starting walking into the pouring rain. She had been panicked enough that she had walked out of the house . . . without a coat, her keys or locking the door.

“For once, Cal. . . I didn’t know what to do.”  

It took her as long as it took to get to the car to realize what she had gone without. Even running back to the house, she could tell that they were both already half-soaked.

Without a word, he took Sophie at of her arms. She watched him walk into the kitchen with her still-crying daughter. She leaned against staircase where he had once stood, and let out a breath that she didn’t know that she had been holding.

He appeared around the corner, startling her briefly. How long had he been standing there? ”You took her temperature already, love?”

“It was 101 even.”

“It’s gone up.” He was displeased, yet a bit worried as she still looked partially in thought—but he gave her the space he thought she needed.

His words registered, and she ignored his last thought, as all she cared about right now was that Sophie would be okay. “How much?”

“101.3” 

“No wonder she was sleeping so much.” She followed him into the kitchen, as he opened the door to the freezer. “What are you doing?”

“When Emily was younger, I would wrap an icepack in a towel and tie it to her head. Usually it would soothe her to sleep, and eventually break the fever, before I gave her the medicine.” Holding the cold compress in his hands, he went upstairs to get the towel and handed it to her.

Sophie tried to pull it off a few times, but eventually her eyes drooped the longer that they sat on the couch. When Cal had returned from the kitchen, both Gillian and Sophie had sacked out on the couch.

Grabbing a few blankets, he carefully tucked them around the both of them and turned out the light. And when he returned later that morning, they were still asleep in almost the same position that he had left them in.

Hearing the back door close, he heard his daughter call out to him. “Dad?” The only thing was that he hadn’t been expecting her to come home until Monday.

“Em.” He greeted, looking at his watch. “You’re supposed to be at school in a half an hour.”

“I know.” She answered casually. “I have a book one of my friends wants to borrow over the weekend, but I’m staying with mom until Monday. And my friend is going to be gone after lunch.”

“Did your mother drive you here . . . to the house?”

“No, I got a ride with my friend Amber. Mom is at one of her early morning meetings and couldn’t take me to school.” Emily changed the subject, before she forgot.”Is that Gillian’s car I saw parked outside the house?”

“It is.” Cal nodded at his daughter, as he got a pan out and stuck it on the oven. “You know, I could have driven you to school if you needed me to.”

“I know.” Emily shrugged, leaning against the wall. “Are things better?”

“There was nothing ever really wrong with us. We went through a disagreement—like we sometimes do—but we’re working through it.”

“Okay . . . it’s just that I’ve never seen you like this.” He tilted his head, about to say something when footsteps trailed behind him—knowing who they belonged to even before he turned around.

Gillian was dressed in the same clothes that she was wearing yesterday, but her hair was down; slightly wavy from last night’s rain storm. “She’s right.” The look in her eyes, told him that they needed to talk.

He gestured upstairs with a nod of his head. “Go get your book.” Emily disappeared around the corner and left the two of them alone. 

“When I was twenty, I had a boyfriend who I foolishly thought who I was going to marry. It wasn’t until I met Alec that I realized the mistake I made—the signs I missed. Actually, it was just one of the things that drove me to help people.”

“He hurt you.” It wasn’t a question, but a protective statement. Grabbing a pan out of the cabinet, he could feel himself gripping the handle—a little tighter than usual.

Her voice was literally shaking, bringing that night back. “He could have killed me—and I just stood there.” Shoulders falling, he could tell that by the relief in her expression that she had been holding this in for far too long.

It was hard to read her at times, because she was literally guarded. Even when he thought he had her figured out, she surprised him. “It’s not your fault.”

Her eyes grew distant, as she relived the moment. “I punched him as hard as I could, and he ended up rolling down the hill that we stopped by. I ran to the nearest gas station down the road and called the cops.”

“Anyone else know that he was hurting you?” Finally, Cal released his grip on the pan and set it down on the stove with a slight tin sound. He instantly regretted the motion when Gillian flinched slightly.

“He was arrested. I found out later that my brothers both threatened to hurt him if he ever came near me again, and I haven’t seen him since.” She tried to smile, but looked more uncomfortable than anything as she ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m going to go check up on Sophie.”

Watching her leave, he relented with a sigh when he realized that Emily hadn’t come down yet. “Emily, you’re going to be late.”He called up the stairs.

Emily hurried down to the kitchen, with the book tucked in her arm. She slung her book bag over one shoulder in a rushed manner, reading his expression. “I know, I’m going to be late, but I couldn’t find the book. Where’s Gillian?”

“She went to go check up on Sophie.”

It was only a few seconds later, that they heard Gillian’s alarmed voice echoing through the house. “Cal!”