Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

MARGO

Earlier that morning

I spend most of the morning sleeping. Mama comes in every so often to check my forehead for a fever, but my temperature never rises. My headache is still pounding at my temples, and my face is buried in my pillow with my blankets tucked around me when Mama walks in again.

"Hey, baby," she says, patting my back. "I need you to sit up. I brought you something to drink."

I groan. "What is it?"

"It's peppermint tea."

"I hate tea."

Mama pulls me up, holding me to keep me upright despite my lack of help. "You might not like it, but your Aunt Beth had a migraine for five weeks straight and the day she tried peppermint tea, she was cured."

She always has a reason to justify her words. I stopped trying to prove their authenticity years ago. Even if I were to argue, she'd tell me she's a nurse and therefore knows what she's talking about.

I take the cup and sip it. Not because I want to, but because it'll make her happy.

Her hand covers my forehead for the twentieth time. "Are you sure you don't want to take the medicine? Maybe we should call your doctor?"

I shake my head. "No. I'll be okay." I hate the pain meds they gave me last time. Sure, they took away the pain, but they made me feel gross. I felt like I was disconnected from everything around me. No matter how hard I tried to focus, I couldn't. I had no energy, and all I wanted to do was sleep. "I'll get up soon. I promise."

"If you change your mind, don't be afraid to tell me," she says.

I take another sip of my tea before setting it on the nightstand. "I won't be." I pat her hand and then lie back down.

Mama watches me closely, sitting on the corner of my bed. I can tell she doesn't want to leave. That she wants to find a way to help me.

"Will you rub my back?" I ask.

She smiles. "Of course."

I turn over, and the motion calms me. Before I know it, I drift back to sleep.

When I wake up a couple hours later, my headache has been replaced by an empty stomach. To say I feel better is a stretch considering I never actually feel good now, but it's somewhat of an improvement.

I raise my arms above my head and yawn, then leave my bed. I wander into the kitchen. Mama is stirring something on the stove, and I wrap my arms around her. "Your tea worked," I say even though I don't think it's what fixed my headache.

"I knew it would," she says.

"You're making soup?"

Mama nods as I move to lean against the counter. She opens the oven and pulls out a tray. "And garlic bread."

"It's a little early for dinner."

"This isn't for dinner. It's for you since you haven't eaten all day."

I pat my belly. "It smells delicious."

Mama beams, eyes glistening.

I lean on the counter, watching her cook. She's off in her own little world, humming as she stirs the soup.

"Did you call the hospital yet?"

"Why? Do you think I need to take you there? I can drive you right now if—"

"Not for me. For you. Have you thought about going back to work?"

She freezes, holding her ladle still. "No."

"You said you'd think about it."

"I'm still thinking," she says.

I rack my brain trying to figure out what I can do to encourage her to make the right decision. "Maybe we should go visit. I bet the other nurses you used to work with would be happy to see you."

"Right now I have a lot on my plate. I'm trying to work on some of the house projects I've been putting off."

This is the first I've heard of "house projects" and I doubt she's working on them. I know most days she cleans to avoid thinking about my future, and on the days when she can't ignore it, I come home to her eyes puffy from crying. She needs a distraction, a new focus. If only I could help her see that.

Mama hands me a bowl of soup and a slice of garlic bread. "I'll think about it some more, but right now please go eat this. I need you to keep your energy up."

She doesn't have to tell me twice. I gladly take it to the table. I lean in to smell the delicious salty broth.

I take bite after bite until I'm scraping the bowl clean. I stand and take my dishes to the dishwasher. Then, I roll my sleeves up and start washing the dishes Mama used to make the soup.

"Let me do that," Mama says, running back into the kitchen.

"It's okay. I got it." I rinse off one of the measuring cups and set it on the top rack.

Mama shimmies her way in between me and the sink, pushing me away. "Your cousin Jeffrey once went an entire day without eating, then cut his finger while doing the dishes because the lack of food almost caused him to go blind."

I know that's not true, and I know she doesn't believe it either. At least I hope she doesn't.

I laugh. "Alright. If you really want to do them, knock yourself out."

Mama nods. "Thank you. Go do something fun."

Fun? I have no idea what that would be. Annie isn't home so it's not like I can watch a movie with her. I don't feel like leaving the house, and all my friends are at school. Then I remember the notebook I bought. I still haven't decorated it. I always decorate the inside cover. It's my way of making it my own.

"Okay, I'll be in my room," I tell her. "Thanks for the soup. It was amazing. "

She grins and gently pinches my cheek. "Anything for you, love."

I race back to my room. Sitting down at my desk, I take the notebook out of my bag and set it in front of me. The gorgeous pink notebook stares back at me. I slip the strap off it and open it up. I doodle with my pen, drawing flowers and fruit until it's covered halfway. I set my pen to the side and stretch my hand. It's starting to cramp, which is my cue to take a break, but before I do, I transfer my plan for Mama, Papa, and Annie from my old notebook.

My door flies open and Annie comes rushing in. She slams the door and faceplants on to her bed. She kicks her feet into the air, and then she rolls over, staring up at the ceiling with big eyes.

"So . . . what happened?" I ask.

"Daniel gave me his number." She covers her mouth, hiding her silent scream.

No, no, no.

Why would he do that? He's not supposed to be sweeping Annie off her feet. He's supposed to be scaring her off with his careless personality.

She turns to face me, propping her head on her hand. "See, I told you! I think there actually might be something between us."

There is no "us" between them, and there won't be if I get my way. Daniel is not the type of person to go up and ask for a girl's number. It doesn't make sense. He's never even mentioned Annie. I didn't know he knew she existed. I don't think he's aware of the majority of the human race. "Why did he want it?"

Her face is beat red. "He said he needed to talk to you, but when I offered to give it to him, he conveniently had ‘forgotten'?"—her fingers form air quotes—"his phone in his locker. I think it was just an excuse because then he specifically asked me to text it to him." She can't stay still. Her feet are kicking again.

I bite my cheek, becoming more upset by the second. The audacity he had to go up to my sister. He's ruining my plan. I grimace, my frustration overwhelmed by a newfound curiosity.

"Wait, why did he want my number?" That seems like a very unlikely thing for him to want.

She shrugs. "I don't know. Did he text you?"

My eyes dart around my room, trying to spot my cell phone. "I don't know. I haven't checked."

She sighs. "Maybe life is like the movies."

I force a laugh, but it comes out with a ball of nerves. "Maybe."

She jumps up. "I'm going to go take a shower."

As soon as she leaves, I snap to action. I dump out my purse. I pull back my bed covers. I open my side table drawer. I scour my room until I see the shiny black screen poking out from the pocket of my jacket. I lunge for it like my life depends on it. He better have a good reason for toying with my sister's emotions.

I unlock it and pull up my messages. At the top are a few texts from Cameryn and then some from an unknown number. I click it and see two texts.

Are you slacking?

It's Daniel.

I throw my phone down. That's it? That's the text he needed to send me? That's the text he thought was worth jeopardizing Annie's entire life over?

I let out a slow breath, hoping it'll lessen the anger in my chest. Spoiler alert. It did not. Not knowing what else to do, I sit down cross-legged, staring down at my phone. There must be more. There has to be. That can't possibly be what he wanted to say to me, but he seems like a guy who would send a blunt text stating what he wants or needs. This is odd. This is like he's teasing me. Or maybe he's serious, and honestly thinks I'm slacking. No. That can't be it. He's spent too much time with me to think that. I'm not a slacker.

Reluctantly, I pick the phone up and start typing.

Did I say you could text me?

No. I most certainly did not.

The text immediately shows as read, and three little dots appear in the bottom corner like he's been waiting for my reply.

Since when do I need your permission?

My jaw drops. How dare he. Who does he think he is all of a sudden?

What do you want?

Have you found my dad yet?

I saw Daniel less than twenty-four hours ago. Of course not. What did he think was going to happen? That I'd look into every Justin in the state and find him with nothing but a first name? He can't be serious.

No. I need more clues.

Like what?

Why is he being so talkative? It's Friday, and I figured he'd be happy to have a break from me. But apparently, he really wants to find his father now. Maybe he's finally realized I know what I'm doing. When I say I'm going to find his dad, I mean it.

Do you have any of your mom's things? Pictures, diary, social media accounts?

All the stuff from our old house is in a storage unit.

Perfect. That's where we need to go next.

Now?

What? No lol.

Then when?

I'm not in the mood to see him. Not after he went up to Annie and got her all excited. The worst part is he didn't even want to talk to Annie. He just wanted to know if I had any updates on his dad. That would break her, but to be fair, it's completely in line with his personality. He doesn't care about anyone else.

I don't know. I'm a little busy.

The sooner you find my dad, the sooner you get what you want.

I chew on my bottom lip. He's right. The sooner Annie moves on, the better. Still, I have a lot on my plate this weekend. I'm going shopping Saturday with Cameryn, then I have a family dinner at my grandparents, and I don't feel like missing breakfast with my family on Sunday morning. The weekends are the only days we are up at the same time. Mama always goes over-the-top to make it special. I can't miss that.

How does Sunday afternoon sound?

Fine.

Fine? It sounds fine ? It better be fine.