Fever

by Carnal, MJ

  “I love you, Brooklyn. I can’t lose you,” Nick says in a low hoarse voice. “We need to be strong. We need to have faith that he’ll pull through.”

  “He will,” Nina cries. “He’ll pull through. Shea’s too much of a pain in the ass to give up.” Her voice waivers and gets lost in sobs, and that’s how the nurses find us when they wheel Shea back in. They don’t even bother to tell us to leave or that there’s a visitation limit. I think our tenacity is painted all over our faces. Until Shea comes back to us, we’re not moving. Flowers and balloons with sentiments are continuously brought in, but we don’t need to bring any of that for Shea because for him, we are the flowers. We are the reminder that we’re here for him. We are the voices of each one of his fans, the ones standing outside of the hospital with signs pleading for him to be okay. And if he would just peel his eyes open, he would see that the family he’s so desperately searching for, the people that would never abandon him, have been here all along.

  ***

  My eyes open to a darkness that matches my sentiments. Sighing, I inch closer to the edge of the bed, gliding out of Nick’s arms and the plush comforter, unable to lie here any longer. Striding past Nick’s sleeping figure, I notice the indecent time on the clock before my eyes land on Nick again. I should be sleeping in those sculpted arms right now instead of awake and walking toward the kitchen, but it’s no use. The more I toss and turn, the higher chance I’ll wake him and he needs sleep too. Once I serve myself a cup of coffee, I walk over to the massive windows of the guest bedroom and sit on the floor in front of the glass. Lowering my cup from my mouth, I run my fingertips over the condensation of the windows, tracing waves over it to clear the haze outside. The day seems to be waking up as foggy as my mind feels, the beauty of the city wrapped up in clouds of grey.

  My fingers brush over my phone, the device that’s become even more of an appendage in the last two days. I’m itching to call the hospital for an update on Shea. The last time I checked was a couple of hours ago, and even though his mother hasn’t left his bedside and the nurse on rotation has my phone number, I feel that I need to call, just in case. The MRI they did yesterday showed a lot of brain activity, which they say is a good sign, but still that little word miracle keeps being thrown out there, which scares the shit out of me. It’s not that I don’t believe in miracles, it’s just that I know enough to know they don’t come true for everybody. He deserves that miracle, he deserves a chance at life, at love. But so did Ryan. What is it about survival that makes me feel so guilty? Is it the fact that I feel that even though I’m successful, I feel like I haven’t accomplished enough? Or is because I have things that Ryan never got a chance to have?

  After contemplating but not calling, I decide to crawl into the guest bed and see if sleep consumes me here. I feel bad because Nick has been nothing but great to me and I know he’s suffering too, but there’s no reasoning with me when the bleakness takes over. There are no answers I can give myself that will be good enough to numb the pain.

  When the charcoal clouds begin growing inside of me, letting the darkness saturate all the light I know is there, I shut down. I don’t do it on purpose, it just happens. And I hate it. I hate that it happens. I hate losing the wind that normally sails me through the days. I hate losing myself in the stillness of my sadness. Because that’s all I become—sadness.

  I turn on my side when the door clicks open and Nick appears in the room only wearing basketball shorts. His chest is glistening, his hair is wet, and the smell of the men’s Dove body wash he uses hits me, letting me know he just showered. He doesn’t say anything as he makes his way over and sits beside me on the bed. Letting out a breath, he begins to run his fingers soothingly through my hair slowly, twirling the ends.

  “You have to get out of here, babe,” he says, his eyes in pain as he looks at me.

  “For what?” I ask, humoring him, even though I don’t want to hear his answer.

  “Because I need you,” he states simply, ruffling the hair on my scalp and laying beside me, turning our bodies toward each other.

  Tears well up in my eyes. “I’m so scared,” I admit in a whisper, looking into his eyes.

  “Me too,” he answers back, then grabs my hand, holding onto my fingers and running them over his side, where his song notes lay. “I have something to show you.”

  He circles his arms around me and pulls me from the bed with him, walking me to the living room. I groan and shut my eyes when the sliver of light coming through the blinds hits me. Nick chuckles knowingly as he sits me on the couch and grabs his guitar.

  “You wrote it?” I ask, my eyes darting to his tattoo.

  “I did,” he responds, tilting his head as he strums the chords of the guitar to a song I haven’t heard. The sound makes my throat close with emotion.

  “Yes, I’m someone new. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna hurt you. Yes, I’m a mess, that doesn’t mean I’m trying to fix you,” he croons softly. His raspy voice makes me want to close my stinging eyes, but the intensity he’s looking at me with makes me keep them open.

  “You could stay in the darkness, let the dark become the day. I say don’t wait, come over here. I know I wrote these words,” he smiles slightly, pausing, “and that might mean I’m gonna love you. If you should know anythiiing, it’s that you light me up. You light me up. You could say that you’re too scared, but I’m just as scared as you, please, just see me through, come over here. I’ll be heeere, when you’re ready for me. I’ll be here when you’re ready for me. I’ll be here when you’re ready for me,” he finishes, letting his voice drift with the strums of the guitar.

  I feel like he’s singing to the darkness that resides inside of me, the one that doesn’t let me just be sometimes, and that makes me cry harder.

  Nick puts the guitar down on the floor beside him and catches me when I throw myself into his arms, cocooning myself into a ball as he holds me and kisses my head, repeatedly telling me how much he loves me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper when I finish crying. “That was beautiful. Which verse are your notes on?” I ask, wiping my tears away with the backs of my hand.

  He holds my face and kisses my lips softly, deeply, then picks the guitar back up and sings, “You could say that you’re too scared, but I’m just as scared as you, please just see me through, come over here.”

  Through tears, I smile. “That’s a great line,” I whisper.

  “It’s Paige’s song now,” Nick says as he puts the guitar down.

  “Chaplin?” I ask, perking up just a little. God, I love that woman’s voice. I wonder how she sounds singing the song.

  Nick makes a face at me, seemingly reading my thoughts. “Yes, and she sings it better, but I wanted to play it for you.”

  Leaning forward, I kiss him chastely. “You sing good too,” I say, letting him wrap his arms around me.

  The phone rings shortly after, making me jump out of his hold and run to it, sliding my finger across it. “Hello?” I say, frantically.

  “He’s awake!” Maria says, laughing, crying, and yelling at the same time.

  I gasp loudly, my heart beginning to beat quickly again. “He’s awake!” I announce to Nick, screaming with a smile. “Does he know where he is? Does he remember you? Can he talk?” I ask Maria these questions all at once and then cut off her answers by telling her we’re on our way.

  I arrive at the hospital feeling as if I’m walking on clouds. I don’t see anybody, hear anybody, but this time it’s because my heart is bursting with gratitude. I thank God a gazillion times and tell him that I knew he would come through for me, then promise that I’ll make it to church every Sunday from now on, and hope I make good on my word. I have to figure out what religion I am before deciding what church I’ll end up in, I guess.

  “BK,” Shea croaks when I walk into his room.

  Rushing to his bed, I throw my arms around him, sobbing as I rock him, just like I did to my best friend all those years ago. This time in b
etween I love yous, I say thank you and I’m going to kill you for almost killing yourself as Shea laughs and cries with me.

  “You promised,” I say hoarsely, not caring that I sound like a belligerent toddler.

  “I know. I’m sorry,” Shea responds sheepishly.

  “I almost want to kill you for putting us through that shit,” Nick chimes in, scooting a chair beside Shea and me.

  Shea’s shoulders slump as he looks at Nick. “Sorry, bro. I fucked up.”

  “I’m just glad you’re okay,” Nick says leaning forward and putting his arm around Shea, hugging him tight before letting go to sit down again.

  “I’m going to get help,” Shea says, nodding his head. “I am. They’re keeping me here longer now that I’m awake. I didn’t try to kill myself, Bee. You know that, right? I wouldn’t do that.”

  I let out a long, relieved exhale. “But you still almost died. You did die, Shea. They had to pump your stomach. Do you know how fucking scared I was? All I could think about was-”

  “Ryan,” Shea finishes, holding my hand in his. “I know, Bee. I’m sorry.”

  The three of us sit there for a while: Shea holding my right hand, Nick holding my left, and me thanking God for giving us the opportunity to have second chances, because not everybody is this lucky. Nick gets up suddenly and tells me he’s going to get us coffee. I smile thankfully before placing both of my hands over Shea’s.

  “I saw Gia,” I whisper, inching my chair closer to his bed. I don’t tell him that I haven’t seen her around ever since the day he was brought in.

  Shea exhales a dark laugh. “My mom called her to tell her I was awake and she said Gia was happy but said she wasn’t coming back because she had a tour to finish.”

  My mouth falls open. “She’s just going to go on tour? Without you? Just like that?” I ask in disbelief.

  He lets out a dark laugh. “Funny thing about people, Bee, when you’re up, they’re all over you. When you’re down, they don’t give a shit about you.” He shrugs.

  Even though he’s completely right about that, it kills me to hear that he feels that way. I hate that Gia is one of those women and I hate that Shea can take it with such ease, probably because he knew that to begin with. Still, I make a mental note to call the bitch and give her hell for this.

  “I’m sorry,” I offer quietly, lowering my eyes.

  He squeezes my hand, making me bring my eyes back to his. “Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry for. The only person I need is here.” His eyes are sad, but truthful, and although it’s supposed to make me feel better, my heart cracks a little more.

  I exhale. “Always, Shea. I’m just scared me being here for you won’t be enough.”

  “Moms says Leo and Fern have been coming. They’ll be back,” he says.

  “You know what I mean,” I mutter.

  “I know,” he whispers, tracing my jaw with his fingers. “It makes me happy to see you happy though, BK. It really does.”

  Blinking my eyes rapidly, I hold his hand on my face to still it. If he keeps talking, I’m going to cry again. “Thank you. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

  “What are best friends for?” he says with a smile, and it’s a genuine smile. I return it. He drops his hand when Nick walks back in the room with two cups of coffee in his hand. “You’re a lucky motherfucker, Shadow. You better not fuck this up.”

  Nick chuckles, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds, looking directly at me.

  The nurse Shea was waiting for comes in and wheels him out to run some tests, leaving Nick and I alone in the room. He sits in the chair opposite of me and places the cups on the table beside us before leaning in and tugging a lock of my hair.

  “Have I told you how beautiful you are today?” he asks.

  I smile, shaking my head.

  “Well, you are,” he says. “And you have the most amazing green eyes I’ve ever seen.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper, thinking the same about his ocean eyes, the ones I now know hold a lot of sharks in it, but I don’t care. I’ll happily jump in them and let them take a chunk out of me, like they do every day. Tearing my eyes away from him, I look back at the monitors in the room, remembering a time that I was in one similar. I wonder if Shea will really seek help and if he’ll be able to stay drug free. I know it’s not easy to do, and it scares me that he’ll probably want to go right back to his tour.

  “Are you sure everything will be okay?” I ask Nick in a whisper.

  He scoots his chair closer to mine so that our knees are touching and cups my face. “No, babe, I’m not, but that’s the beauty of life,” he says, drawing circles over my cheeks. “The only thing I’m sure about is us.”

  And then he puts his mouth on mine, and I let myself fall.

  ***

  I Don’t Feel it Anymore (Song of the Sparrow) – William Fitzsimmons

  Tell Her This – Del Amitri

  Hit the Ground – Paige Chaplin (http://paigechaplin.bandcamp.com) Ready – Paige Chaplin*

  Sober – Pink

  Everlong – Foo Fighters

  Farewell – Rosie Thomas

  All I Want – Kodaline

  Trouble – Ray LaMontagne*

  One and Only – Adele

  Global Concepts – Robert DeLong*

  We Found Love – Rihanna*

  Hopeless Wanderer – Mumford & Sons

  Dreaming With a Broken Heart – John Meyer

  Gravity – John Meyer

  Say Something – A Great Big World

  Mercury – Sleeping At Last

  Homesick – Sleeping At Last

  Connect – Drake*

  Wrecking Ball – Miley Cyrus

  Young and Beautiful – Lana Del Rey

  Skyscraper – Demi Lovato

  ***

  “You know what I love about life?” she asks in a whisper. I turn her in my hold so that I can look at her when she speaks. I love seeing the way her full lips move and her green eyes light up or dim down, depending on what she’s talking about. Right now they’re dim and that peaks my interest, I never know where her head is when her eyes get that faraway look in them, but I can guess. I don’t mind it though, it doesn’t bother me that she’s a little torn up as long as she lets me help with the stitching.

  We’ve been lying in our bungalow in Maldives for the past two days, away from our chaotic lives. I’d never been here, but she’s told me how much my eyes remind her of this water, so I decided to bring her. She’s only looked at the water once since we got here, the rest of the time she’s spent looking at me. I would pay the fortune I spent getting here to come back here every week just to have her do that.

  “What’s that, baby?” I ask, my hands moving from her tangled up hair to the curve of her waist. I can’t get enough of touching her.

  “How beautiful it is, how tragic it is,” she responds, her eyes are on mine, but have that distant look in them

  “You know what I love about life?” I ask, smiling when she frowns slightly. “Having you in it every day.”

  I watch her the clouds in her eyes dissipate and her lips curl up as she lets me response sink in. She sits up, letting her body fall against mine, and I catch her.

  ***

  Catch me, if you dare:

  Twitter: @ClariCon

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/Ccontrerasbooks

  Email: Ccontrerasbooks@gmail.com

  Blog: www.clairecontreras.com

  Also-please show some love to the very talented Paige Chaplin:

  https://www.facebook.com/paigechaplinmusic

  Get her music on iTunes or here: http://paigechaplin.bandcamp.com

  ***

  Claire Contreras is from the Dominican Republic, but was raised in Miami, Fl, where she still resides with her husband, two boys, and two American Bulldogs.

  More books from this author:

  There is No Light in Darkness

  Darkness Before Dawn

  ***


  It takes one person to write a book, but it takes an army to get one published. This has been and will probably continue to be my experience and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Because I’m going to say many “I love yous” and “thank yous”, I’ll get that part out of the way here. I love you all and am insanely grateful to you and for you:

  Christian, Abraham, Moses: Thank you for understanding me, putting up with me, showing me an unconditional love I wasn’t aware existed before you. You help keep my head above water daily. I love you more than words, more than stories, more than life.

  For the ones who ripped me up and tore me down. The ones who ignored me and kept walking all over me, making me feel like a burden to them: Thank you

  For you, Jay, you saved me countless times without even knowing it.

  Ashley Tkachyk-For every day, keeping me sane in this insane world, reading with me, laughing with me, screaming with me, for your feedback, wise suggestions, for your mind.

  Rachel Keenan -no words can suffice, but thank you x 100. I hope you’re ready to read everything I write from now on. You read this more than anybody else and you didn’t even complain about it! Your encouragement, your suggestions, the way you pick up on things that not many readers would, made this process worth it for me.

  Bridget Peoples-for your talks, your belief in me, your swag, your feedback.

  Alyssa West (for the literary porn-LOL!); Michelle Finkle (I want to walk around with you in my pocket for life! For reading my stories & giving me the most encouraging, uplifting and beautiful words, thank you!); Sandra “Turtle” Cortez (for always reading, for your encouragement, your voxes, thank you); Trisha Rai (for your undying support and willingness to read whatever I send you); Trish Brinkley (for your messages, for planning the best signings ever, your love for Cole!). Crysti Perry (for your awesome notes that made me push harder). Autumn (for taking the time out of your crazy schedule to read and giving me your honest feedback). Jodie Stipetich (my favorite stalker! LOVE YOU!) Taryn “V”: For “getting” me, letting me rant, ranting back, laughing at my stupid sarcasm, throwing it back. For holding my hand through shit and not letting me give up. For giving me crap when I restart a book for the tenth time, but shutting up when I explain to you why I did it. Your support means the world to me, but your friendship is invaluable. And lastly, for making two cute and grateful kids. We need better men in this world and it makes me happy to know you’re raising two of them.