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anyway. She poured shampoo in the palm of her hand and began to lather my hair and scalp.

I closed my eyes. “Mmm, this feels nice, Mom. I should get shot more often so you can give me a bath.”

“Bite your tongue, child.” She wasn’t amused. “You don’t need to get shot or attacked or given an overdose of drugs. I will be happy to bathe you anytime.”

“Ew, mom, that would be weird.”

“I suppose it would be but I don’t care. I love you and I would do anything for you.” Her face turned serious.

Crap, I didn’t mean to upset her. I looked at her with remorseful eyes and mouthed an “I’m sorry.” She smiled and nodded. I splashed some soapy water on my face using my good arm, trying to wash away my heartache.

“Honey, are you all right?”

“Of course, Mom, I feel fine, just a little achy.”

“No, not that, honey. Josh. You haven’t mentioned Josh since he was shot trying to protect you. I heard what you said about his playboy ways and I know about the texts and pictures,” she mused. “Sweetheart, why don’t you believe him? It’s sounds plausible. Has he done anything to you to make you think otherwise?”

I considered what she was saying. “I don’t think he’s lied to me and no, he hasn’t done anything to hurt me. But, Mom, I don’t really know him. I just met him when all this happened so I really don’t know what kind of person he is.” I scoffed, “Just look at him, Mom! He looks like a cross between Captain America and Thor rolled into Josh. Why wouldn’t he be a playboy? He’s beautiful and I’m certain he knows it. Besides, that work excuse… it’s just so convenient and transparent… very difficult to believe. That may be a lie.” I paused. “Or at least a half truth. Either way, I don’t really want to go through the kind of heartache I went through with David.”

“Hm, I can understand your trepidation honey, but I believe him, sweetheart. I also believe he cares for you… and I think you may feel the same way despite your thoughts about his playboy ways.” She turned my head so we could look at each other. I didn’t react. She started the water and rinsed my hair, pouring warm, soapy water over my shoulders as well. I let the soapy water start running out and stood up so she could help me rinse off. I stepped out of the tub and dried off as best I could with my arm screaming in pain. I’d rather feel the pain than have to deal with questionable pain medication again. I started to remove the plastic wrap from my upper arm while my mother brought my bathrobe. She helped me slip it on and began to dry my hair for me. Turning to look at her, our eyes met and we held each other’s stare for a long minute.

“What is it, sweetheart? Is everything okay?” she asked.

I hugged her tight and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you, Mama. Thank you for being here.”

She held me, careful not to hurt my arm. “I love you too, honey. I’ll always be here for you.”

Then there was a knock at the door. “Tia?” (Aunt?) Belín called my mother “Aunt” in Spanish.

“Si, entrar,” (yes, come in), she told Belín.

“Tu móvil” (your cell phone). She handed my mother her phone. My goodness! My mother was constantly getting phone calls as of late. It couldn’t possibly be my father every time, wanting to check in with her. She must have a pretty active social life.

We left my mother to talk in private. I dressed in the PJs I wore the first night Josh was here. I smelled them, trying to see if his scent was on them at all. I smelled only the gardenia bath gel. I sighed inwardly, trying to suppress those few memories I had of Josh. My mother left my room in a hurry, calling for my brother. I wondered what happened.

I walked around my house looking for my laptop, trying to recall where I last saw it. My mind was so distracted with preparing for this therapy session and thoughts of Josh, I forgot about the pain in my arm. Interesting, how one’s mind can manage the pain. I found my laptop on the kitchen table and took it to the living room. My mother and Charles Andrew were lost in conversation about tomorrow. I walked in and sat down next to my brother on the sofa; he had the football game on. The Cowboys were playing again tonight. My mother’s phone rang again so she left to answer it. As I was sitting there a host of memories came flooding back. Memories of Josh and me watching the Cowboys play, Samson, with his head on Josh’s lap, Josh asleep on the sofa, his angelic face forever burned in my memory. I quickly opened my laptop so as not to think about anything other than work.

“Looks like I’m leaving exceptionally early tomorrow morning,” declared Charlie.

“Really, why?” I asked.

“Dad’s almost done huntin’ and I need to get back to MIT in a hurry due to a project I’ve been accepted on. And since Thomas Henry goes there too, Dad said he’d take us both in the company jet. However, he wants me at the airport by five tomorrow morning.”

“Ew, you’ll be getting up with the chickens.” I contemplated his leaving. “I’m glad you’re leaving, Charlie,” I said, trying to sound caring. “It’s getting a little too dangerous around here for you and I’d rather you be at school where you’re safe and far away from this mess.”

He eyed me, not knowing what to say. “Thanks, I love you too,” he said with a grin, yet there was a hint of concern in his voice.

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