Page 97 of Sing For Us

I step into the warm water with Lana; the immediate contrast of the hot water feels like a physical shock against our sensitive skin. She releases my neck and sits on the opposite side of the tub, sinking into the deep basin, letting the water rise to her collarbone. She’s pushing the water away with her arms, creating space for herself. The frantic, desperate edge from earlier is almost completely gone, replaced by a heavy, protective stillness.

Lana isn’t fighting or distracting herself; she’s allowing herself to rest.

For the first time since the news from the hospital broke, her breathing begins to slow. The water holds her up, removing the weight from her tired limbs. I close my eyes, and my steady heartbeat is a testament to how I’m feeling—at ease.

“Why did you bring me here?” She is so quiet her question comes out as a whisper.

“Because we both need to rest. We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Oh. Okay.” She sounds disappointed, and she should be. I wanted to turn around and go to my bedroom, but then she mentioned that phrase.

If there’s one slight chance that she’s the girl from more than twenty years ago, I shouldn’t blow it. Until then, I can’t get her hopes up.

Even if she remembers it all, we can’t be together.

We sit in the tub for what feels like hours, but in reality, it’s only been twenty minutes. We don’t talk to each other almost the entire time we’re here; we're just enjoying the silence. I welcome the reprieve and let it engulf me.

“I think we should head out. Otherwise we’re going to fall asleep.” I propose to her. She nods and gets up, but quickly goes down into the jacuzzi again.

I smile, knowing why she did that; she’s cold. I go to the closet and take out two bathrobes.

“Here, take it.” She takes the bathrobe and wraps it around her body.

“Let’s go.”

We walk into the bedroom, and I look for pajamas in my closet. I hand some over to her along with some panties. She puts the clothing on and goes under the covers.

When I lay my head on the pillow, I look at her, and she’s already asleep.

I tell her one more thing before I fall asleep.

“I hope I’m the weirdo you’re thinking about.”

***

It’s the morning after, and it’s a beautiful morning. The sun is shining, and I’m making breakfast for Lana and me.

A lot of bread, cheese, and fresh sausage.

If I remember correctly, Lana wakes up around 8 a.m., and I’m right.

It’s eight, and I see her walking down the stairs, holding her head.

Coffee.

She sits down at the counter on one of the high chairs, and I hand her a cup of coffee.

“Thank you.” She takes a couple of sips and moans into her cup. Nailed the coffee.

We don’t say anything to each other, and the silence isn’t awkward; it oddly feels like a blank canvas. The rest of breakfast goes by smoothly, and we indulge ourselves in the delicious food. The first time my mama taught me how to cook eggs, I rolled my eyes. She convinced me that it’s a skill everyone should know, regardless of gender.

I’ll forever be grateful for what she taught me.

“Your smile is infectious. What’s so funny?” Lana snaps me out of my trance, and I take a bite out of my bread.

“Just thinking about mama.”

“That’s adorable,” she tells me, and I make a face.