Every Last Drop

by Sarah Robinson

  My dad joined her, spelling out her name with his sparkler, and then mine. “Tessa, look! Your name’s in lights!”

  My smile was as bright as the sparkler he was holding, and I turned to see Kyle watching me. His eyes were dark, his smile barely there, but I recognized the look as his sparkler sailed slowly through the air in front of him, forming a heart. I gestured the same heart back to him with my sparkler, and he gave me a small wink before heading over to light the rockets that would shoot up brilliantly into the sky and flame out over the water.

  Half the year was over, in more ways than one, and all I felt was the warmth of the sparklers flames and my family’s love.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Wednesday, September 3, 2014

  * * *

  “How do you celebrate Halloween when it’s not Halloween?” I asked my sister as I flipped through the costumes on the rack in front of me. Luckily, stores put out holiday items insanely early, so though it’s only September, there were a ton of costume options at the local department store. “We can’t exactly go trick-or-treating.”

  Elly laughed. “When’s the last time you went trick-or-treating? I mean, I could probably get away with it, but you’re old as hell.”

  “You’re going to be a lot older than I’ll ever be,” I teased.

  Elly’s face dropped and she shook her head. “Dude.”

  I put on my most innocent face. “What?”

  “Not a funny joke, you jerk.”

  I shrugged. “It’s a little funny.”

  “Anyways,” Elly emphasized loudly, turning to the rack of costumes. “What about this one for me? Tinkerbell?”

  “Nothing slutty.” I took it from her and returned it to the rack. “I get to pick your costume.”

  “Says who?” she balked. “You’d probably pick a nun’s outfit.”

  A wiggled my brows at her. “Do they have one of those, because—yes.”

  Elly laughed. “Hell, no!”

  “Nuns don’t curse, El.”

  “Tinkerbell probably does, but it sounds like this—sheeeeet!” Her voice went up several octaves as she shrieked shit in the highest pitch possible.

  I dissolved into giggles then pulled another costume off the rack. “What about Cat in the Hat?”

  “You just said nothing slutty, but now you want me to dress up as a p—”

  “All right!” I interrupted her before she could finish that thought, laughing with my hands in the air. “Pick your own costume! Just nothing with ‘sexy’ or ‘slutty’ in the title. You’re still my little sister.”

  “Fine, fine!” Elly flitted off to a rack a few rows over.

  The tips of my fingers tingled as I returned to pushing costume after costume aside on the rack. I’d moved over to the horror section, costumes covered in gore and fake blood—which I loved. Halloween should be scary, and I’d never understood how it had turned into just another excuse to show boobs and ass.

  That’s what I was thinking of before I had my second seizure.

  Boobs and ass.

  The oatmeal I’d had for breakfast churned in my stomach and my tongue felt thick. I tried to ignore it, like the tingling spreading up my arms. The music playing over the store’s loudspeakers began screeching like a terrifying carnival ride…the music slowed and sped up, slowed and sped up.

  I felt it all so fast, I didn’t have time to consider what was happening. I grabbed the rack to steady myself as the room ebbed and flowed around me, black spots clustering in my vision until it faded entirely.

  Boobs and ass, and I was gone.

  Muffled silence slowly faded into noise—deafening noise. Noise so loud I wanted to cover my ears, but I couldn’t move. Pain shot through me, reminding me I was alive, but making me wish differently.

  Elly was talking to me. I could hear her—she sounded comforting—but I couldn’t make out what she was saying, or where she was.

  Minutes went by, or hours? Everything was so slow, and somehow on fast forward. My eyelids parted, and I stared at a bloodied face, mouth split open wide, with an even bloodier skeleton head popping out where its tongue should have been.

  WHAT THE HELL?!

  “AH!” I shrieked and tried to push away from the monster—which ended up being more of a shimmy, shuffling motion backward since I was still on my side on the floor. “Get it away from me!”

  Except my words came out like mush, and the room was spinning. My stomach threatened to empty its contents and I clutched my throat, begging it to stay down.

  “It’s a mask!” Elly said, her voice sounding garbled. It slowly started to make sense, though she still sounded far away for someone bending over me. She kept repeating herself again and again until finally, I began to understand. “You had a seizure and fell into the rack of costumes. It was just a mask.”

  “Thank you, baby Jesus.” I exhaled loudly, finally finding my words. “I thought I blacked out and woke up in the zombie apocalypse.”

  Elly rolled her eyes, but she still looked terrified. “This isn’t ‘The Walking Dead,’ Tessa.”

  “Our loss, really. I’d kick zombie ass.” I rolled onto my back and took a deep breath, readying myself to stand. Nothing felt sore or broken—probably thanks to falling on a rack of soft clothes and rubbery masks.

  “Only you would be making jokes right now.” Elly offered me a hand and helped me to my feet.

  I suddenly realized that at least five sales people were surrounding us, looking scared shitless. “Oh, hi. Sorry about the rack.”

  “Are you okay?” one asked.

  “Should we call 911?” another added.

  A third had a manager tag on. “Are you going to sue?”

  “What? No, I’m fine. It’s okay,” I assured them, giving the manager an odd look. Definitely not the zombie apocalypse. People’s biggest fears were still their wallets. “I think I’ll take that costume though.” I pointed to the one I’d woken up staring at. You know, face your fears and all that.

  “Take it,” the manager rushed to say. “No charge.”

  “Really?” Elly looked at him skeptically then scooped it up for me. “Cool.”

  “Can she have one too?” I asked, pushing my luck. I’m dying, so why not.

  The manager nodded, wringing his hands. “Anything you want.”

  Elly grinned and held up the Tinkerbell costume.

  * * *

  • ღ • ღ • ღ •

  * * *

  “You had a seizure?” Kyle gaped, his eyes wider than his heart.

  I dropped to the couch, curling into the corner of the plush cushions and pulling a throw blanket over my legs, still holding my zombie mask in my lap. “It’s not that big a deal, Kyle.”

  He looked around the room, double checking we weren’t in ear shot of my dad or sister. “Tessa, it is. This is your second. The doctor said they’ll begin to happen more frequently toward…toward the end.” He sat next to me and took my hand. “Plus, remember how you’re starting to forget things?”

  “I’m forgetting things?” I feigned then batted at his chest playfully when a look of horror crossed his face. “Kidding. I was kidding!”

  He groaned. “You know, you’re a lot less funny than you think you are.”

  I gasped with all the mock seriousness of a proper diva. “How. Dare. You. Sir.”

  Kyle smiled, eyeing me with both worry and suspicion. Finally, he kissed the back of my hand and let out a long sigh. “You’d tell me, right? If things got really bad?”

  “Of course, but I doubt I’ll have to,” I replied. “I can’t imagine it’d be easy to hide pain, paralysis, vision loss, or seizures.”

  He took a moment to think about it. “Are you in pain now?”

  I nodded.

  “Like on a scale of zero to ten, where are you?”

  I sighed. “Probably a six. That’s kind of my average. A steady drum of pain at all times.”

  “Does it ever get worse?” He was frowning now, and I hated h
ow upset this conversation was making him, but I wasn’t going to hide it from him. I couldn’t help what was happening to my body.

  “A lot worse. Ten. Maybe twelve. But those are quick flashes, not lasting.”

  He was chewing on the inside of his cheek now, a tick he only did when really worried. “Tessa…” He snuggled closer to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “I hate that you’re going through this.”

  “I hate that you’re going through this.” The despondent looks on his face, my father’s, and my sister’s? Those were so much worse than any aches and pains.

  I lifted the zombie mask from my lap and pulled it over my head. I made my voice as creepy as possible and slowly enunciated his name. “Kyyyyllllllllle—”

  “Shit, that mask.” Kyle leaned away from me. “That’s creepy as hell, Tessa.”

  I pulled it off, laughing. “Well, it is Halloween!”

  “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He jumped up and jogged into the kitchen. I watched him go with admiration—his butt, my God. I could bounce a quarter off it, then bite right into it. I decided then and there that unless I was physically unable to, I was going to have as much sex as possible before I died.

  I didn’t want to travel the world or go on a huge shopping spree or some other fantastical adventure. I just wanted to have sex. With my husband. A lot.

  “Kyle?” I called out to him. There was no time better than the present to start and the pulsing between my legs was already halfway there.

  “Check it out,” he said, returning with his hands full. Beast danced around his legs and Kyle tried to step around him. “Six different choices of scary movies—everything from horror and gore to aliens and paranormal—and all your favorite candies in fun size.” He tossed bags of mini Twix, Reese’s, and Milky Ways onto the coffee table and placed the stack of movies beside it. “And…” He held up a small pumpkin costume clearly meant for dogs. “I didn’t forget Beast!”

  I burst out laughing and scooped Beast into my arms. “Beast, do you want to be a pumpkin for Halloween?” I cooed into his fluffy face.

  He wiggled and made silly growling noises before licking my nose.

  Kyle grinned and handed me the costume, which I fitted the dog into with only a small amount of squirming. He jumped out of my arms the moment I got it on, tripped over his own feet, and face planted on the floor.

  “Beast!”

  Kyle laughed. “He makes a cute pumpkin.”

  I cooed over my puppy a little bit more as he wobbled around, trying to get used to walking as a pumpkin.

  “I know we’ve done the bar crawls, the Halloween parties, the trick-or-treating kids…I thought maybe it’s time to have old married couple fun.” Kyle dropped down on the couch next to me. “Scary movies, candy, dogs in costume, and a zombie mask—what do you think?”

  I kissed him, soft at first, then a little slower, longer. “I think it sounds like the perfect Halloween.”

  “Yeah?” His eyes were dark and hooded, and I knew exactly what he was thinking.

  I nodded. “But on an unrelated note, how long do we have until the movie starts?”

  He glanced toward the clock. “I don’t know what your dad and sister are doing but we could start whenever.”

  “So, we have time to go upstairs?” I wiggled my eyebrows at him.

  His green eyes flared, and a low growl rumbled through his chest. “Oh, we have time.”

  “Yeah?” I said, teasing, but he was already on his feet and scooping me into his arms.

  He cradled me against his chest and I wrapped my arms around his neck.

  “Wait!” I pointed to the couch. “Bring the zombie mask.”

  Kyle glanced between me and the mask, his expression not amused with the idea. “All right. I’ll power through.”

  I laughed, grabbing the mask and letting him carry me up the stairs.

  Chapter Forty

  Thursday, September 4, 2014

  * * *

  “You’ve literally never cooked a whole turkey before, Tessa.”

  I shrugged, clicking to the next website. “How hard can it be?”

  Kyle lifted one brow. “I’ve never heard anyone call it easy before, that’s for sure. We were just planning to order it from a store or something like that.”

  I shook my head quickly. “Nope, I’m making it. I’ve always wanted to do it before, and this is my chance.” I flashed him a confident smile. “You can help me though.”

  Kyle clicked his heels together, straightened his shoulders, and gave me a true military salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Ma’am?” I laughed, shaking my head. “How about miss? I’m still young enough to be a miss.”

  He repeated the salute again. “Sorry, miss. I’ll help you burn down the house, miss.”

  I smacked his chest. “Oh, please.”

  The corners of Kyle’s mouth lifted into a smile, and he winked at me. He didn’t get a chance for a snappy retort, however, since my dad walked in carrying a huge cardboard box.

  “Guess what I got!” he called over the top.

  “If there’s a live turkey in there, I’m out,” I declared.

  My dad put the box on the ground, and Beast immediately ran to it and began trying to chew the edge off of. “The way Beast is attacking the box, maybe!” my dad said seeming to tease, then he waved his hand to say it wasn’t. “It’s a deep fryer. For the turkey.”

  “What?” I balked.

  “YES!” Kyle fist pumped the air. “Best idea you’ve ever had, sir.”

  “Thanks, son.” My dad beamed with pride as he started pulling a giant stock pot and other random components out. “Now we need to do this outside, but it’ll be so fast. What size turkey do we have?”

  “Ten pounds.” I eyed the contraption suspiciously, because I’m pretty sure I’ve heard dozens of stories of deep-frying-turkeys burning houses down. “How long will it take to cook in that?”

  “For ten pounds, I think about thirty-five minutes.”

  My brows lifted. “For a full turkey?”

  Kyle nodded, confirming my dad’s assertion. “That’s the beauty of the deep fryer, babe.”

  I gingerly stepped over to it, going slowly since my body was all aches and pains. “Well…I have always wanted to try deep fried turkey, but I get to prep the bird and drop it in.”

  My dad gave me a thumbs-up. “You got it, sunshine.”

  He and Kyle began taking everything outside, far enough from the house to hopefully avoid disasters. I began pulling food out of the fridge for the sides and desserts.

  “Ready to start, Tessy?” Elly waltzed into the kitchen, freshly showered after her run. “What are we making?”

  I pointed to my computer screen that had a list of dishes and the recipe for each.

  She read it out loud. “Mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, homemade pumpkin pie and apple pie, and green bean casserole. Oh man, we’re going to pig out!”

  I grinned and handed her a mixing bowl. “That’s the goal. Which do you want to do?”

  “I’ll do potatoes and casserole, you do desserts,” she offered.

  I nodded in relief, because the potatoes sounded like they were going to take more energy than I had. “Perfect. Oh, and I’m going to prep the bird.”

  “We should get it in the oven fast. Those take forever to cook.”

  “Nope.” I pointed out the window to where our dad and Kyle were setting up the deep fryer. “Dad bought a deep fryer, so it doesn’t take long.”

  “I thought deep fryers always set people’s houses on fire…” She nibbled on the edge of her thumb. “Is this a good idea?”

  “Definitely not.” I shrugged. “But are you going to stop them?”

  That earned me a big grin when she turned away from the window. “Like that’s even possible.”

  We both laughed and returned to our prep work. I fixed the turkey first, getting it washed and seasoned and stuffed full of flavor, ready to be dunked in hot oil. It only
took me a few minutes, but I was winded by the end of it and had to sit while prepping the pies.

  A couple hours went by and the kitchen smelled so good, my stomach was growling. I hadn’t had much of an appetite in months, so I was excited for both the food and another Thanksgiving with my family. Our last Thanksgiving had been lackluster at best. Elly had been at school and hadn’t made it home over break. We’d invited Kyle’s family, but they’d been finding enlightenment in a yurt in Alaska, or something equally as absurd.

  When it was time to deep fry the turkey, Dad helped, both of us fully covered in aprons and long gloves to keep the oil from burning our skin. We lowered the bird into the pot while Elly and Kyle set the table for dinner. Sure enough, a little under forty minutes later, the bird was crispy and perfect.

  The weather was beautiful—it was still September, after all— so we set a picnic table outside with a red checkered tablecloth, a gourd filled with small pumpkins as a centerpiece, and neatly folded checkered napkins to match. I felt like a freaking domestic goddess.

  I wanted everything to be perfect and memorable, even if I wouldn’t be the one remembering it.

  “What’s left?” Elly looked around the kitchen, having helped me make several trips out to the table already. “Is everything outside?”

  “I think just the pies,” I replied, pulling open the oven. Beast bounced around my feet, but I pushed him away, worried he’d burn himself.

  Elly grabbed pot holders, and we each picked a pie and headed outside. I was only a few steps behind her. My feet felt tingly, and I wondered if I had pushed myself too hard today, spending so much time standing. I was definitely tired, but this was a million pins and needles stabbing my legs. I wobbled and swayed, clutching the pie in my hand, but it was too late.

  My left foot disappeared, like it wasn’t even attached to me. I looked down and saw it, but I couldn’t feel it. The surprising sensation, or lack thereof, tipped me sideways and I stumbled. I tried to catch myself, but with the pie in my hand, it was a losing battle.