The Butterfly Box_A SASS Anthology

by Anthology

  I nod meekly and watch as Billie and Gaia depart.

  PARKER AND I lay on opposite ends of my couch, our feet reaching toward one another. Every so often his fingers will graze my calf, sending an excited shiver up my spine.

  “I’ve been hearing your friend Dawson’s band on the radio. It’s so crazy to know someone in a band that’s suddenly exploding.”

  “Yeah, it’s weird. Luckily it’s not going to his head too much. Although if the guitarist, Rebel, can’t get his drug issue in check things are going to be over before they’ve really begun.”

  “Huh? Well that’s an ironic name they’ve got then?”

  “Downward Spiral?” Parker laughs. “Yeah. Rebel actually came up with that one.”

  His phone vibrates, and he glances down before clicking on what seems to be a new text. After a few seconds his eyes light with laughter and affection. He turns the phone to show me what he’s looking at.

  “My nephew got to choose his own clothes this morning. This is apparently what he picked,” Parker explains as I look at the picture of an adorable little blond boy dressed in a full Batman costume complete with mask and cape.

  I snort a laugh.

  “That kid is my hero,” I say. “One day when I have a kid…” As soon as the words are out of my mouth it’s like a punch in the gut. There won’t be a one day, let alone kids of my own.

  Parker’s brow furrows in concern.

  “What’s wrong, Amie?”

  I swallow past the lump in my throat and force a smile.

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  “You’re still upset about the breakup?” Parker guesses, a scowl creasing his forehead. “Nate didn’t deserve you, and I guarantee there’s someone out there who does.”

  The conviction in his voice is almost enough to make me wonder if Parker doesn’t have feelings for me. But that’s crazy. He’s had years to make a move if he were so inclined.

  “Nah. I’m not upset about Nate. Maybe I should book myself a vacation to a resort like Hedonism. That’s what people do after a breakup, right? I should just go and get plowed by strangers.” I’m only half joking. My clock is ticking. I should be out enjoying every second.

  Parker’s scowl deepens.

  “That’s what you’re looking for? Hot, sweaty, mind-blowing sex?” The intensity of his voice and the heat of his gaze send a shiver up my spine and cause my panties to instantly dampen.

  Maybe he is interested.

  I force a casual shrug.

  “Maybe. A woman has needs.”

  Parker licks his lips and shifts closer, inching into my personal space.

  “Are you looking for a distraction or a relationship?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper as his gaze travels between my eyes and lips.

  “I’m not really in a good place for a relationship,” I admit. I don’t have anything to offer anymore, and the last thing I want is to take someone down with me.

  Parker let’s out a sigh and sits back. The new distance between us makes it feel as though the temperature in the room has just dropped by ten degrees.

  “Want to grab dinner?” His casual tone knocks me off balance. Am I crazy or was he about to kiss me not five seconds ago?

  “Um...sure.”

  “Come on.” He stands and then holds out a hand to help me up. When we reach my door he stops and turns to face me once more. “Don’t go on vacation just yet?”

  I lick my lips and nod once, not trusting my voice. Parker’s expression relaxes a little and he leans forward to plant a gentle kiss on my forehead.

  “YOU HAVE YOUR own helmet yet?” Parker asks as he leads me to his Ducati.

  “Of course.” I dash over to my unused motorcycle and grab the helmet I’ve left hanging over one handle. Parker laughs when he sees the pink Mohawk coming out of the top of the helmet.

  “You’re fucking weird, Amie.”

  “I know, but that’s why you like me.”

  “Well, that and your cute ass,” he agrees with a wink.

  I shake my head and laugh at his flirtatious antics before climbing on the bike behind him. I swear he lets out a low purr in the back of his throat when I press my body tightly against his and wrap my arms around his middle.

  It occurs to me that if I hadn’t gotten sick, I would’ve married Nate. He wasn’t a bad guy... until he dumped me while I was basically on my death bed. But in hindsight our relationship wasn’t anything to write home about. Things with Nate were always comfortable and on the outside probably seemed perfect. There was no heat though, no passion, no excitement. I pulled back significantly on the time I spent with Parker when Nate and I were dating because Nate was jealous. The first time he met Parker and saw the two of us joking, discussing our shared love of music, and teasing each other about our differing taste in movies Nate kept quiet and watched us interact. Later that night he told me I was disrespecting my relationship with him by spending so much time with Parker. He called it ‘emotional cheating’. While I’m sure that’s a thing, I think Nate was overreacting.

  If I hadn’t gotten sick I wouldn’t be here with Parker now. My heart beats furiously at this thought. I don’t want to give Parker up again. What if he gets a new girlfriend in the near future who feels about me the way Nate felt about Parker? We’ll go back to being neighbors who share pleasantries and nothing more. I don’t want to lose the closeness we’ve resurrected.

  “Doing okay back there?” Parker asks when we reach a stoplight.

  “Yeah. Just trying to figure out why it took you so long to take me out on your bike.”

  “I’m wondering why it took me so long to do a lot of things,” he adds cryptically before the light turns green and the bike roars down the street once more.

  I’m reluctant to detach from him when we reach our destination. It’s a hole in the wall Mexican restaurant.

  “I know it looks sketchy, but I promise the food here is unbelievable,” Parker assures me.

  “I trust you.” I follow him inside, part of me desperate to reach for his hand and lace our fingers together. Why does this feel so much like a date?

  Parker looks over at me with affection in his smile and I get the impression I’m not the only one feeling like this is more than a friendly dinner. I’m too chicken to ask him though, to know for sure whether he feels the ‘more than friendship’ vibe the way I do. Because if he does I’ll have to tell him that there’s no future for us. There’s no future for me.

  “You know, that ride on your motorcycle almost has me convinced not to bother learning to ride my own after all.” I know I just said that I can’t have Parker, but a little harmless flirting never killed anybody, right?

  “Did you hate it that much?”

  “No. I’m just thinking it’s probably a lot more fun to ride a motorcycle with the added benefit of being pressed against your sturdy body.”

  A flicker of lust heats up his blue eyes and I nearly throw caution to the wind and kiss him.

  “I’m certainly for the idea of you getting rid of your bike, so if that means I’ll have to agree to having you wrapped around my body on my bike from time to time then I’m willing to make that sacrifice.”

  “Way to take one for the team.”

  Parker rewards my sarcasm with a cheeky grin and we both dig into our chips and salsa.

  He was right. Best Mexican food I’ve ever had.

  YOU’D THINK THE nausea, headache, and general feeling of death warmed over would be enough to deter me from completely ignoring my kidney diet. But what can I say, I’m a champion of denial. Even with my head in my wastebasket, again, I’m convinced that it doesn’t matter what I eat. I’m dying so if I want to ignore the diet recommendations that’s my right to do so.

  My throat and nose burn as I retch my breakfast burrito into my waste basket. Once my stomach has been emptied I set the garbage can back down and look up to see Tricia looking at me with concern.

  “You look like crap, doc.”

 
“Gee, thanks,” I mutter sarcastically after swishing some water and spitting it into the garbage can.

  “Seriously, what’s going on? You haven’t looked well for a while. And I didn’t want to be rude by asking what had you hospitalized for two weeks, but it’s obvious something serious is going on. You can talk to me.”

  My heart thunders at the mere idea of saying it out loud. Instead I shake my head and grab my notebook so I can start taking notes about our patients for the day. Tricia looks like she’s going to push it for a second but finally settles on a stern look before launching into the schedule for the day.

  The cough that’s been tickling my throat for days worsens throughout the day. Obviously my puke-fest this morning is to blame for the cough. And the excessive coughing is now starting to cause my lungs to actually hurt. But that’s totally normal...right?

  By one in the afternoon, and a whole pack of cough drops, Tricia decides it’s time for me to go home.

  “We still have patients to see,” I argue between a hacking cough that just seems to keep getting worse.

  “Nothing that can’t wait. Go home and get some rest. I’ll do what I can without you and everything else can wait until Monday.”

  I open my mouth to argue but the evil eye I get suggests that she won’t be hearing any of it.

  “Thanks, Trish. I’ll see you Monday. Have a good weekend.”

  SWEAT DRIPS DOWN my brow and my muscles quiver with exertion.

  “Come on man, one more rep and you’re done,” Blake, my best friend at the firehouse, encourages me as he spots me on the bench press. I push through the last rep and then sit up, blowing out a breath, and reaching for my towel to wipe my face.

  Blake claps me on the shoulder encouragingly and passes me my water bottle.

  “Oh, hey man, I almost forgot to tell you. You remember Becky’s friend Hannah? You met her at our fourth of July party.”

  I scrunch my brow, searching my memory.

  “Red hair, nice body?” I ask.

  “Yup, that’s the one. She’s been asking about you. Want me to give her your number?” Blake waggles his eyebrows and elbows me suggestively.

  “I appreciate the offer, but no thanks.”

  “I know it’s not my place to get in your business. But I’ve been worried about you since Kristie left. Going this long without sex can’t be healthy.”

  I roll my eyes at him. I know he means well but a guy who’s happily married with his first child on the way doesn’t need to be rubbing my nose in it.

  “Amie’s engagement is off,” I confide. Blake’s mouth falls open in shock which quickly turns into an enthusiastic grin. Blake and Dawson are the only two people who know about my long time infatuation with my neighbor. It’s kind of difficult to hide that type of thing from the two people you spend the most time with.

  “No shit?” Blake is still grinning like an idiot. You’d think it was his love life on the line. “You’re going to go for it, right?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t want to rush it. Something’s going on with her, and I don’t want to make a move until the time feels right.”

  “Fuck that man, no time like the present. You don’t want her to slip through your fingers again,” Blake warns, shooing me off the bench so he can get his reps in.

  “She just broke up with her fiancé. It’s only been three weeks. Well, maybe it’s been five weeks. She wasn’t home for two weeks so I can’t be sure. Regardless, it feels too soon.”

  “Dude, you’ve been in love with her for three years. I’m not saying you need to jump her or anything. You’re an idiot if you don’t at least let her know you’re interested as more than a friend.”

  I mull his words over as I spot him on the bench press. Maybe he’s right. I can let her know that there’s absolutely no rush. But maybe it’d be best to put it out there that I am interested.

  By the time we finish our workout I’ve made up my mind. When my shift ends tomorrow morning I’m going to go over to Amie’s and let her know how I feel.

  I’M PACING IN front of my apartment door getting myself hyped up. I’m going to go for it. I’m just going to lay it all out there for Amie, tell her that I have feelings for her. I’ve practiced it in my head a hundred times today already, and probably about two hundred times as I fell asleep last night.

  I have feelings for you Amie, and I think you have feelings for me too. I want to take you on a date and see where things go. I know you’re fresh out of a serious relationship so there’s absolutely no rush. However, I hope that when you’re ready to date again you’ll give me an honest shot.

  It’s direct and to the point. I know Amie will appreciate that. She isn’t the type of woman who’s into mind games. I take a deep breath and force myself out the door and toward her apartment.

  I knock and wait. There’s no answer which surprises me. I know Amie doesn’t work on Sundays. I check my watch and see that it’s almost noon. She shouldn’t be asleep still. A cold feeling for dread seeps into the pit of my stomach. I’ve been a fireman long enough at this point that I’ve learned to trust my gut instinct. Something isn’t right.

  I raise my fist and knock again, more urgently this time. After a minute there’s still no answer and I’m really starting to get nervous. I reach into my pocket and pull out my key ring. My hands shake as I try to separate Amie’s spare key out.

  It takes longer than it should to get her door open. When I do I’m met with a deathly silence that causes my hackles to raise.

  “JESUS,” I HEAR Parker’s deep voice, restrained panic evident. My head is foggy as I try to respond. But the effort of dragging breath into my lungs is too much. I feel like I’m drowning, unable to get enough oxygen. “I need an ambulance. My friend is struggling to breath, her pupils are responsive but she’s not conscious, and her pulse is weak and thready.” He pauses and listens to whatever the operator is saying. “Yes. I’m a fireman so I have EMT training. No. She doesn’t need CPR. She needs an ambulance.”

  I try to open my eyes to assure him I am conscious, but it’s too much physical effort. Moments later I feel his calloused hands on my face.

  “Amie, come on baby, try to open your eyes for me. Come on, you’ve got to be all right. Fuck, why didn’t I come check on you sooner? Please, please be okay.”

  I COME TO with a new appreciation for how my patients must feel when they wake up with a trachea tube down their throat. The urge to gag and cough is overwhelming. The steady beep of the heart monitor is reassuring at least, even if the sound of a respirator is a little disconcerting.

  “Oh Jesus, Amie, you’re awake.” The sound of Parker’s voice sends my heart rate soaring. Which is extremely embarrassing since I’m hooked up to a heart monitor for the whole damn world to hear. “Hold still, baby. Let me grab a nurse really quick.”

  Baby? When the hell did I become baby? And why do I like the sound of that so much? Well, duh, because Parker is incredibly fucking hunky. Not to mention how helpful and friendly he’s been lately. Too bad I’m fucking dying. And if the plastic tube jammed into my face is any indication I’d say my timeline just got bumped up.

  Parker and a nurse come scurrying back into the room with a doctor right on their heels.

  The doctor quickly assesses my pupillary response while the nurse takes my vitals.

  “Miss Evans, you have severe pneumonia. We have you on a respirator because you stopped breathing briefly. I don’t have to tell you that the situation is serious due to your underlying autoimmune disorder. Since you don’t have any immune system to fight this off, we’ve got you on high doses of IV antibiotics and are providing supportive care. At this point it’s a wait and see game. Now that you’re conscious I would like to try to remove the respirator and see how you do breathing on your own.”

  I nod my head to let him know I understand. Out of the corner of my eye I see Parker watching me with a mixture of fear and desperation. Jesus, does he really have to be here to see me like this? I must be a co
mplete mess.

  I’m a mixture of relieved and disappointed when the doctor asks Parker to step out of the room while they extubate me. Part of me is glad he won’t see it if I can’t breathe on my own. But another part of me is screaming inside for him to come back and hold my hand.

  What if I don’t recover from this? Why didn’t I come back to the doctor like I should have when the cough first started? I’ve basically signed my own death certificate by being a complete stubborn ass. I was in denial. I’ll fucking admit that now. I was in denial plain and simple and I’m ready to move on to stage two of the grief cycle, bargaining. Or is stage two anger? Fuck if I know. All I know right now is I’m ready to promise every damn deity I can think of anything he or she wants if I can have just a few more years. I’m not ready. I’m so not ready.

  “Can you relax for me, Amie?” The nurse asks with a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I can grab a sedative if necessary.”

  I shake my head ‘no’ mentally willing myself to calm down and relax so they can get this tube out. I gag as the nurse slowly pulls the tracheal tube out of my throat. She hands me a metal bowl and I gag and hack disgusting amounts of phlegm into it. Okay, now I’m glad Parker stepped out of the room.

  “All right, try to take a deep breath for me, Amie,” the doctor instructs, putting his stethoscope to my chest. I do the best I can to drag in a painful, stuttering breath. But I do manage. “I’m going to have the nurses monitoring you closely for a few days at least. Get comfortable because you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”

  While I’m not excited to be stuck in the hospital for God knows how much longer, another part of my brain interprets his words as ‘you’re not going to die yet’. I know I’m not out of the woods, but his words still comfort me.

  “Parker?” I rasp out, my throat raw from the trachea tube, as well as days of disuse.

  “I’ll get that sexy man back for you,” the nurse assures me with a wink.