He stares at me with a strange smile on his face, one rife with both amused disbelief and a little bit of pain. He shakes his head and pours milk into a coffee mug. He puts it in the microwave, and while his back is turned to me says, "I am not leaving anytime soon." There is a quiet determination in his voice. I know that I cannot expect him to leave now. And I am suddenly struck by how well I know him, how sure I am that he will not leave.
"I'm just saying you don't have to stay." My voice is quiet with defeat. I jump when the microwave beeps.
"I'm just saying I'm going to. Stop trying so hard to run me off. It's not going to work." He continues with what he was doing, which I recognize as making hot chocolate. I do not know what to say to him. It has never really occurred to me before now that he might refuse to leave. I was under the assumption that I could anyone off.
Stabbing pain begins crawling up my legs. They are cramping, badly. They have done this before, but it is extremely painful. I cannot even stretch them out. I purse my lips and wait for it to pass. It does, eventually, but I know that it will be back, and that they will be sore for the next few days at the least. I decide that it is highly unlikely that I will be going to work tomorrow.
"Can you bring me the Advil in the to drawer?" My voice does not shake, but he looks back at me with worry in his eyes anyway. "Leg cramps." I am not going to offer a better explanation. He brings me the hot chocolate and the Advil. He stands there while i take it, looking awkward all of a sudden. I must admit that I find his discomfort at least a little amusing.
"Sit down pretty boy. If you want to look after me, fine. At least turn on the TV."
"Yes ma'am." He does a little bow and collapses on the love seat to the right of the couch. I wonder what I have gotten myself into, and cannot come up with an awnser.
"I'm just saying you don't have to stay." My voice is quiet with defeat. I jump when the microwave beeps.
"I'm just saying I'm going to. Stop trying so hard to run me off. It's not going to work." He continues with what he was doing, which I recognize as making hot chocolate. I do not know what to say to him. It has never really occurred to me before now that he might refuse to leave. I was under the assumption that I could anyone off.
Stabbing pain begins crawling up my legs. They are cramping, badly. They have done this before, but it is extremely painful. I cannot even stretch them out. I purse my lips and wait for it to pass. It does, eventually, but I know that it will be back, and that they will be sore for the next few days at the least. I decide that it is highly unlikely that I will be going to work tomorrow.
"Can you bring me the Advil in the to drawer?" My voice does not shake, but he looks back at me with worry in his eyes anyway. "Leg cramps." I am not going to offer a better explanation. He brings me the hot chocolate and the Advil. He stands there while i take it, looking awkward all of a sudden. I must admit that I find his discomfort at least a little amusing.
"Sit down pretty boy. If you want to look after me, fine. At least turn on the TV."
"Yes ma'am." He does a little bow and collapses on the love seat to the right of the couch. I wonder what I have gotten myself into, and cannot come up with an awnser.
