high-pitched tone.
“Nev’s not feeling well. Have you seen Gavyn?” George answered for me.
“I think he’s upstairs. Can I help?” Layla rubbed a small circle between my shoulder blades. “What kinda not feeling well?” She leaned forward and whispered the last question like it was a secret. “You havin’ female problems?” George glanced at me with a crooked eyebrow to see if he had to answer that question for me too.
“No, it’s not that, Layla. I’m sure it’s nothing.” I saved George the trouble.
He huffed, shaking his head, and continued. “She had an injury when she was younger and thinks it may be causin’ some issues. We need to find Gavyn. Thought maybe he’d know what to do.”
“I’m pretty sure Gavyn is in his apartment. Tell me what he says, and I’ll go with you. They can handle it here without us for a while.” Layla pulled me in for a hug. My body stiffened against hers. I wasn’t used to affection from outsiders, but after a moment, I welcomed the solace her arms offered.
George and I walked out of the kitchen and into the back corridor toward Gavyn’s apartment. His door was tinted with a midnight blue stain. Dark streaks from the wood grain underneath marbled the thin layer of paint, turning it into an interesting piece of art at the end of the hall.
Strangely, I felt a little intimidated as I stared at the partially open door. I told myself that I was better and didn’t need to burden anyone else with this nonsense. Especially since I had no clue how Gavyn would react or how it would affect George.
I stopped a few steps from the door. “You know, I think I’m okay now that I’ve had a minute. This really isn’t necessary.”
“Girl, we are gonna talk to him and we will find some way to make sure nothing is goin’ on in that noggin of yours. What you told me ain’t normal.” George looked down at his feet and muttered under his breath, “I should have found a way years ago to have you looked at.” His expression turned to one of shame, and his eyes glossed over as if he was about to cry. This man never cried.
My heart grew heavy for him. “It’s just all the change like you said. I’m sorry I made such a big deal about it.” None of this was his fault, and he didn’t ask to be responsible for me.
I never truly understood the depth of George’s love for me until now. A special bond has always existed between the two of us, forged during all the hard times we shared. He has given me more than I could ever ask from another person: love, support, and a chance at life. George has given me a home. Not in the security of four walls and a roof, but home in the form of one person unconditionally loving another. No matter where we rested our heads, it was home as long as George was there.
“George, this is not your fault. You didn’t know.”
“No, but if I had money…,” he answered, his apologetic voice trailing off into thought. The indentations of age lines deepened between his bushy, graying eyebrows, reflecting the pain and guilt he carried. Being the man George was—a man who made jokes of heavy situations as a coping mechanism—his expression quickly changed into the pouty puppy dog face I used often.
I let out a defeated breath. There was no point arguing with him. When George wanted me to do something, I couldn’t deny him. Right now, he wanted me to get checked out.
“Old man, you drive a hard bargain. Do they teach you those guilt trips on the streets, too?” I lightheartedly sassed, pretending to be cheerful to lighten the mood, but underneath I was scared. George eyed me, surprised I mocked his persuasive attempt at getting me to do as he asked. His playful pout shifted to a stern glare that told me I had no choice in the matter.
I took another breath and peered over at the dark blue door, biting my upper lip. “Okay, but I’m going up by myself. I’ll explain the situation to him the way I want. You
“Nev’s not feeling well. Have you seen Gavyn?” George answered for me.
“I think he’s upstairs. Can I help?” Layla rubbed a small circle between my shoulder blades. “What kinda not feeling well?” She leaned forward and whispered the last question like it was a secret. “You havin’ female problems?” George glanced at me with a crooked eyebrow to see if he had to answer that question for me too.
“No, it’s not that, Layla. I’m sure it’s nothing.” I saved George the trouble.
He huffed, shaking his head, and continued. “She had an injury when she was younger and thinks it may be causin’ some issues. We need to find Gavyn. Thought maybe he’d know what to do.”
“I’m pretty sure Gavyn is in his apartment. Tell me what he says, and I’ll go with you. They can handle it here without us for a while.” Layla pulled me in for a hug. My body stiffened against hers. I wasn’t used to affection from outsiders, but after a moment, I welcomed the solace her arms offered.
George and I walked out of the kitchen and into the back corridor toward Gavyn’s apartment. His door was tinted with a midnight blue stain. Dark streaks from the wood grain underneath marbled the thin layer of paint, turning it into an interesting piece of art at the end of the hall.
Strangely, I felt a little intimidated as I stared at the partially open door. I told myself that I was better and didn’t need to burden anyone else with this nonsense. Especially since I had no clue how Gavyn would react or how it would affect George.
I stopped a few steps from the door. “You know, I think I’m okay now that I’ve had a minute. This really isn’t necessary.”
“Girl, we are gonna talk to him and we will find some way to make sure nothing is goin’ on in that noggin of yours. What you told me ain’t normal.” George looked down at his feet and muttered under his breath, “I should have found a way years ago to have you looked at.” His expression turned to one of shame, and his eyes glossed over as if he was about to cry. This man never cried.
My heart grew heavy for him. “It’s just all the change like you said. I’m sorry I made such a big deal about it.” None of this was his fault, and he didn’t ask to be responsible for me.
I never truly understood the depth of George’s love for me until now. A special bond has always existed between the two of us, forged during all the hard times we shared. He has given me more than I could ever ask from another person: love, support, and a chance at life. George has given me a home. Not in the security of four walls and a roof, but home in the form of one person unconditionally loving another. No matter where we rested our heads, it was home as long as George was there.
“George, this is not your fault. You didn’t know.”
“No, but if I had money…,” he answered, his apologetic voice trailing off into thought. The indentations of age lines deepened between his bushy, graying eyebrows, reflecting the pain and guilt he carried. Being the man George was—a man who made jokes of heavy situations as a coping mechanism—his expression quickly changed into the pouty puppy dog face I used often.
I let out a defeated breath. There was no point arguing with him. When George wanted me to do something, I couldn’t deny him. Right now, he wanted me to get checked out.
“Old man, you drive a hard bargain. Do they teach you those guilt trips on the streets, too?” I lightheartedly sassed, pretending to be cheerful to lighten the mood, but underneath I was scared. George eyed me, surprised I mocked his persuasive attempt at getting me to do as he asked. His playful pout shifted to a stern glare that told me I had no choice in the matter.
I took another breath and peered over at the dark blue door, biting my upper lip. “Okay, but I’m going up by myself. I’ll explain the situation to him the way I want. You
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