Craving Resurrection
Page 32

By the time I got home, I was almost dizzy with lack of sleep and fell into bed in a stupor. I couldn’t remember how long it had been since I’d gotten a decent night’s rest, and it seemed to be all catching up to me at once. I didn’t even have time to appreciate the smell of Amy on my sheets before I crashed.
By the time I woke up, I could hear both of my favorite women talking in the kitchen and my anger had cooled completely. After a bit of sleep, things always seemed a little clearer.
It only took me moments to realize I’d slept the entire day away and I hadn’t even gone to pick Amy up from school. She must have wondered where I was and if I was still angry with her. Guilt lay heavy on my shoulders as I walked slowly out of my room.
“Now, just lay yer arms in there,” Mum said soothingly as I stepped quietly into the kitchen. “That’ll help yer poor arms a bit, I’m sure of it.”
Amy murmured something back that I couldn’t catch because they had their backs to me, and it took me a minute to comprehend Mum’s words.
“What’s wrong wit’ yer arms?”
Amy jumped, but Mum just turned to me with a smile.
“Ah, yer awake then! Hungry?”
“No, I’m not hungry. What’s wrong wit’ her arms?” I strode toward them quickly, imagining all sorts of horrible injuries.
“It’s nothing,” Amy said hoarsely, still looking toward the sink. “Just some hives.”
“Hives?” I came to a halt, standing stupidly in the middle of the kitchen. Something was off. What was it? Mum was smiling like always, but I felt the tension she was attempting to ignore.
Amy was making no move to look at me.
“Amy, me love.” I took another step toward her and watched her shoulders bunch with tension. “Sweetheart?”
“I’m just goin’ to run up to the grocer, forgot some cabbage for tonight’s supper,” Mum commented quietly as she moved away from us.
As soon as the door closed behind her, I stepped forward again until my chest was flush with Amy’s back.
“I’m fine, Trick,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “Just some itchy hives.”
“Ye caught somet’in’?” I wound my arms around her waist and peered over her shoulder as she hunched a little farther into the murky water, her forearms almost flat against the bottom of the sink.
“No, I just get these sometimes.”
Her arms were red as a tomato and from what I could see, covered in big blotches of raised welts.
“What in God’s name?” I lifted one of her arms out of the water even though she pulled against the movement. When her forearm cleared the sink, I couldn’t stop the noise that came from my throat. It was far worse than I’d thought and it looked incredibly painful. “What did ye do to yerself?”
“Nothing! It just happens.”
“It doesn’t just fuckin’ happen! Yer arms are swollen to twice dere size!”
“It’s not that bad. Stop being so dramatic,” she snapped back, trying to rip her arm from my hand. When she gasped in pain at my firm grip, I immediately let her go. Shit. My fingers had left small white imprints in her flesh that quickly turned crimson again before my eyes.
She hissed as she laid her hand back into the water, and I gripped her belly in response, trying to brace her. Her arms looked like they were on fire, and I still couldn’t understand what had happened.
“Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what happened.”
“I already told you,” she replied dully. “It just happens sometimes. I get hives, and they itch, and since I was wearing my uniform sleeves all day, any time I scratched them, they got worse.”
“Why do ye get hives?”
“It just happens.”
“Bullshite. I’ve not seen dem on ye before.”
“Yes, you have, they just weren’t as bad as they are now. They usually go away after a while.”
“Why, Amy?” Our voices got quieter the longer we spoke, as if that could stop us from yelling, so by this time we were practically hissing at each other.
“I get them from stress or if I’m upset.”
“Stress?”
“Yes.”
“What are ye stressed about?”
She went silent at that, and my mind raced through the past few days, wondering if something had happened. Had her parents tried to contact her? Were they the ones who’d been calling at all hours? They’d left the house they were renting in the middle of the night—probably because they owed money to someone—and no one had heard from them since. No, she would have told me if it were something like that.
She didn’t say a word as I tried to think of a reason for her stress. When I remembered our fight that morning, my gut clenched in apprehension.
“I did dis.” It wasn’t a question.
“No! No, it was just stress,” she countered, backpedaling.
“I hurt ye.”
“I hurt you back.”
My arms tightened around her and she sighed as I rested my face against her neck.
“I apologize, me love,” I whispered against her throat. “I was cruel.”
“No, I was a bitch. I kept pushing. You asked me to stop and I ignored you. I shouldn’t have said I’d be with someone else.” Her words drifted into a whisper.
“De day ye stop pushin’ is de day ye no longer want me. Dat’s not somet’in’ I ever want to happen, darlin’.” I kissed her gently beneath her ear. “I was fuckin’ tired, and I could feel me good intentions sailin’ away in de wind, and I had to stop us. I went about it all wrong.”