Part 24 (2/2)
”Here,” Clay says, reaching for the water gla.s.s from Hannah, ”I'll do it. You and Joanie go help Luke with the car.”
”What?” Hannah says, nothing making sense in her head, her impulse to hold Baker strengthening by the second.
”I'll take care of her. I can carry her down the stairs.”
”I don't think we should move her yet,” Hannah says.
”Hannah, she's my girlfriend, okay, I can handle this. C'mere, Bake.”
Hannah watches numbly as he transfers Baker's body weight to himself and holds the gla.s.s of water to her lips to drink. ”Open up, baby,” he says, his deep voice stripped down to a gentler sound.
Hannah stands slowly and backs into the sink, words swimming around her head, worry still clutching at her stomach, and beyond it all, that ache, that terrible ache, suffocating her heart.
”Hannah,” Joanie says softly.
Hannah doesn't look at her.
”Up we go,” Clay says, lifting Baker in his arms. ”Han, can you get that water gla.s.s?”
She does as he asks and follows him out of the bathroom, out of the bedroom, out of the house. Luke's car idles in the driveway, waiting for them.
”Are y'all coming?” Clay asks, turning around briefly.
Hannah can't find her voice.
”We're good,” Joanie answers him. ”Text us once you get her home, okay?”
”I will,” Clay promises, and then he climbs into Luke's car with Baker resting in his lap. Hannah and Joanie stand still and watch them drive away.
”I can drive home, if you want,” Joanie says tentatively.
”Yeah.”
”Han? You should put that water gla.s.s down.”
”What?”
”That water gla.s.s. In your hand. Maybe you should go put it on the porch.”
”Yeah.”
She walks it numbly to the front porch, but then, just as she's about to set it down, a deep pain overtakes her, a pain so sudden and blinding that she channels it without thinking-she throws the gla.s.s at the brick wall of the house-she hears it smash into a million fragments, fragments as numerous as the hairs on her head, as the sands on the seash.o.r.e-she hears Joanie gasp behind her but she doesn't care-the pain is debilitating and she wants to vomit, she wants to vomit, but she can't.
”Hannah,” Joanie says, approaching her cautiously. There are tears in her eyes.
Hannah opens her mouth to speak, but only dry sobs come out. She shakes her head back and forth, back and forth, trying to erase everything.
”Hannah, please,” Joanie says, grabbing her wrist. ”Let's go home.”
Chapter Eleven: Possibility.
Hannah stays in bed for a long time on Sunday morning. She blinks at the sunlight streaming through the crack in her crimson curtains, but all she sees is Baker on the bathroom floor, vomit on her mouth and in her hair.
Hannah, she's my girlfriend, okay, I can handle this.
”Hannah?” Joanie calls through the door. ”Can I come in?”
Hannah hides her face in her covers, but Joanie enters the room anyway. Hannah hears her set something on the dresser. Then she feels Joanie's weight settle onto the bed, right over Hannah's feet.
”You should probably get up,” Joanie says. ”It's past noon.”
”So what.”
”So you're being a total lard-a.s.s.”
Hannah doesn't respond. A heavy silence falls over them, a silence that Hannah can feel wrapped all around her.
”Han?” Joanie says, her voice fragile. Hannah can imagine her face, sad and anxious like it was the time Hannah fell off her bike and sprained her wrist when she was in first grade and Joanie was in kindergarten. ”Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”
Hannah breathes into her pillow. Unexpected tears spring into her throat. ”No,” she says.
Joanie s.h.i.+fts her weight on the bed, and Hannah feels a lighter pressure on her foot, the pressure of Joanie's hand.
”Han?” Joanie's voice is so, so fragile. ”Is there something you want to talk about?”
Hannah breathes. ”Where are Mom and Dad?”
”They're at Home Depot.”
”Oh.”
”Hannah? What's going on with you?”
Hannah sits up and wipes at her eyes. Her heart sprints away in her chest, like it knows what's coming before she does.
”I-” she says.
”Yeah?”
”I-I don't know how to explain this.”
”Okay...well, does it have something to do with Baker and Clay?”
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