Page 84 of Denial
“Thanks, son. I’d have gotten it myself, but there was this box on the front porch.” Bea enters, both arms weighed down by heavy-looking white bags. “I brought enough breakfast for everyone!”
“I’ll take that.” Silas relieves his mom of the bags. Sutton follows with the massive cardboard box from the porch in his arms.
They both begin unloading in the kitchen. The white bags yield multiple aluminum tins. One each of bacon, eggs, pancakes, and sausage. Silas adds them to the spread, turning around as he dusts off his hands.
“Dude, was there a wholesale discount I didn’t know about?”
“Nellie must really love her juice,” Spencer remarks.
Sutton shreds the plastic packaging of a forty-count pack of apple juice. “It’s not for Nellie. Alice needs it for her blood sugar.”
I turn stiffly in my chair in time to see Sutton unload two massive boxes of fruit snacks. He reaches back in, only to come away with a three-pound container of Skittles in one hand and a one-hundred-pack box of gummy bears in the other.
Wait, he’s stocking snacks for my lows?
“When did you decide to do that?” I ask, forgetting that we’re in a room full of people.
“A few days ago. Got tired of you lugging that cooler around.”
“You realize I still need the cooler for my insulin?”
He slaps the refrigerator. “Got plenty of room in here.”
My stomach feels like I just stepped off a twirly ride at the fair. Twisty and a little nauseous. The action is considerate, I’ll give him that. Dare I even say sweet? Certainly doesn’t jive with the version of Sutton I get most days, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
22
Alice
“Miss Alice, what’s this word?”
“That’s a hard one. It’sbouquet.”
Nellie tilts her head, brows crinkled at the book. “I know that word. This doesn’t have the right letters.”
“How do you think it should look?”
“B-o-w-k-a-y.” She spells the word to her liking.
“That would be easier, wouldn’t it? I’m sorry to say, you’re going to find a lot of words that aren’t spelled how they sound.”
“I don’t like that.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t either.”
She sinks deeper into Sutton’s pillows and continues reading a passage about the girl picking flowers.
My eyelids flutter, and I fight back a yawn. The last twenty-four hours have been a new kind of exhausting. That includes the hours spent dancing with my friends. The argument with Sutton. My sprint through town. The hours spent in the ER waiting for stitches. The lack of sleep. Waking up bright and early to arguesome more, only for Sutton’s family and friends to descend upon us and stay well into the afternoon.
I’m not complaining. The group was more than a distraction from the events of the night prior. Seeing them all interact in one big unit offered me something I never knew how to name. An unconditional love I wasn’t sure existed. Whitney and I were always a tight-knit duo, but it was just the two of us. This was different. So many people at ease with one another and happy to exist in the same space. Loving and celebrating each other. I didn’t fully grasp how unfamiliar that type of belonging is to me. Not until I saw it up close.
And I ache for it. Deeply.
If only I were brave enough to reach out and grasp it.
“Time for bed, Buttercup.” Sutton appears at the doorway to his bedroom, interrupting the nightly routine.
“One more page,” Nellie pouts.
