The Woman in the Back Room by Jessica Gadziala

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

Santi

 

 

 

 

"What is it, bud?" I asked as I caught Avi shooting worried glances at me over and over while I piled some ingredients from the fridge onto the counter.

"She's really sick."

"Yeah, seems like it," I agreed. I'd never felt skin as hot as hers had felt before. Avi had been sick many times in his life. He'd run fevers with every illness. But he'd never been burning up like Alessa was.

Brit had one of those bodies that refused to get sick. She'd never been ill a day in her life.

I'd never been put in the position of sole caretaker before. I'd been around when Avi was sick, but it had been Brit with all the little tricks to help him get well quickly.

I felt like I was out of my depths.

But I did know that when I'd been sick, soup always helped.

So I was attempting to make soup.

I'd never done it before, but it seemed pretty idiot-proof. Broth and veg in a pot, simmer, and serve. Even I could manage that.

"Av," I called when I saw his lower lip poke out. "What is it?"

"She's not going to die, is she?"

"What? Bud, no," I said, noticing how glassy his eyes were. "Hey, no," I said again when one of the tears slipped over and slid down his cheek. Moving around the island, I reached for him, pulled him against my side. "She's going to be okay."

"You're sure?" he asked, voice sounding choked.

"She's just got the flu, bud. Tons of people get the flu every year. She's going to be fine."

"We can take care of her," he insisted, voice getting stronger. "To make sure," he added.

"Yeah, we're going to take care of her," I agreed, stroking his hair. "We will take really good care of her, and she will get better. That's why we're making soup," I added, giving his small body a tight squeeze as he pulled himself back together.

Of course he would be worried about her.

He'd just lost his mom.

The idea of something happening to the other, new, but significant woman in his life was weighing hard on his overwrought emotions.

Big feelings, little bodies.

I should have seen it sooner.

Hell, I should have realized it as soon as I heard his voice on the phone. He'd sounded panicked, his words tripping over one another as they tumbled out.

"Mom made me tea," he said, pulling back, scrubbing at his cheeks with his sleeves.

I was pretty sure that was the first time he talked about Brit to me since she'd died. That felt big. I wasn't sure if it was. But it seemed significant to me.

"Then maybe you can make Less some tea. Do you know how to?"

"Mom never let me touch the kettle," he said, nodding toward the electric kettle that had sat untouched since Brit died.

"Well, if you only put enough water for one cup of tea, I think you're big enough to handle it if you're careful, yeah?" I said, shrugging.

"Yeah," he agreed, shoulders squaring, chest puffing out. I set to chopping celery while he very carefully put some water in the kettle, set it in the cradle, then turned it on before going to look for a mug.

I kept an eye on him without him knowing I was looking. I liked to see him doing things for himself. I knew Brit really loved to do every little thing for him. He was her baby. Her only one. She wanted to take care of him. We'd butted heads about that a few times over the years when I wanted to see him start learning to do things for himself.

She'd claimed I only felt that way because I'd been forced to grow up so fast, never having anyone to do anything for me, that I expected my son to be able to act the same way.

Our arguments always ended with us both feeling like we were fucking up.

Since her death, I could really see what an epic fucking waste of time it had all been.

We were both right.

He was a kid. He deserved to be coddled.

But he was growing up to be a man. He needed to learn to do things for himself.

Like make a lady who was important to him some tea, so he felt like he was helping.

"Dad, which one?" he asked, holding up two boxes of tea. Decaf and regular.

"Well, seeing as Alessa slams coffee like a caffeine junkie, I think we can go with the regular black tea," I told him. I was a little worried that she couldn't seem to stay awake.

We got some tea in her.

I managed to get maybe four spoonfuls of soup in her before she pathetically whined that she was too cold to sit up. As if that made any sense at all.

"Dad, you're sure she's okay?" Avi asked as I tucked him in a couple hours later.

"She's going to be okay."

"Maybe I should stay up to watch her," he suggested as he let out a giant yawn. It was already well past his bedtime. He'd insisted on sitting in her room with her, bringing her extra blankets when she said she was cold.

"I will watch her, okay, bud? You sleep. You can pull the morning shift, yeah?"

"Yeah," he agreed, nodding.

"Goodnight, Av," I said, rustling his hair, then getting off his bed, going back into the hall.

I wouldn't say it to him, but I was starting to get worried too. She barely managed to get up to take herself to the bathroom. And when she came back, she practically fell into the bed. Like her legs didn't want to hold her anymore.

I knew I should leave her alone to rest. She'd had enough to drink. She'd eaten a little bit. She wasn't due for any meds yet.

But I couldn't seem to stop myself from going into her room.

Where I found her writhing and mumbling to herself in bed.

"Shit," I hissed, rushing forward, reaching out to touch her.

It was like being scalded.

She was burning up.

The fever was high enough that she seemed like she might be hallucinating.

I didn't know what to do. I was so out of my depths. But for the first time since I was a little, little kid, I did have someone to call.

"Ma, what do I do for a really high fever?" I asked as soon as she answered the phone.

"Ottavio?" she asked, sounding alarmed.

"No. Less. Alessa," I explained. "I think she has the flu. And she's burning up. Maybe even hallucinating."

"Has she had any meds?"

"Yeah."

"Ibuprofen or acetaminophen?"

"Ibuprofen."

"Give her some acetaminophen too. Does she have chills or is she sweating?" she asked.

She'd kicked all the blankets off. Her hair was sticking to her face with her sweat.

"Sweating."

"Okay. Then draw her a lukewarm bath. Lukewarm," she hammered home. "Get her in there. See if that helps. You can do cold compresses too, but only on the forehead or back of the neck. Don't submerge her in cold water."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"If she doesn't seem to be getting better in an hour or so, I would take her to some sort of emergent care center. You don't want to screw around with really high fevers. But if she starts to get better, just keep up with the meds. Alternate them. More lukewarm baths and compresses. And keep her hydrated."

"Alright. Ma, thanks. I didn't know who else to call."

"You can always call me," she said. "Keep me updated," she demanded.

"I will. Thanks again."

"Love you."

"Love you too," I said, still finding the words clumsy on my tongue as I tossed my phone on the dresser, then went into my room to draw a tub.

There was a tub in the bathroom that Less and Avi shared, but mine was bigger. She could really sink into the water.

Once I got the temperature right, I went back into Alessa's room, lifting her into my arms, finding her clothes tacky with sweat.

I placed her on my bed, reaching to yank down one of the three layers of sweatpants she'd pulled on when she had chills.

I'd gotten all three pairs off, leaving her in a pair of black panties I wouldn't let myself look at, then reached to remove the sweater, then sweatshirt she had on.

Which left a tee.

I couldn't tell if she had anything on under.

And I wasn't going to strip her naked when she wasn't fully conscious of what was happening.

So t-shirt and panties it was.

"Oh, hey. You with me?" I asked when I looked up to find her eyes on me. "I'm putting you in the bath," I explained when I got no response, reaching to scoop her up, and carry her into the bathroom. "There," I said as I lowered her into the water. "My mother said this will help," I told her, making sure she was aware enough that I could turn away to get the meds and a cup of water, then making her take those, before soaking a washcloth in cold water, then sitting off the side of the bath platform, and pressing the compress to her forehead for several minutes.

"Any better?" I asked, unable to feel for a temperature when I was pressing something cold to her forehead.

I got a tight little nod from her at that.

"I think you were hallucinating a bit before," I explained. "You scared me," I added.

"Excuse..."

"Excuse for what?" I asked, brows knitting.

"Getting my clothes off," she said, shooting me a tired smile.

"You had fifty layers of clothes on," I said with a smirk.

"I feel like shit," she admitted.

"I gathered," I agreed.

"I'm a bad patient," she added.

"Big baby, huh?" I asked, folding the compress to get a cooler side to put on her forehead.

"I hate needing help."

"Tough shit," I said, getting a surprised snort out of her. "We all have to learn to accept help sometimes," I added. "I've needed to do it a lot lately."

"You lost your wife," she said, shrugging. "You have a son. I'm just me."

"And just you are really fucking sick, babe. You were something out of an exorcism movie back there," I added, getting a big smile out of her.

Which made me learn something new about her.

She had dimples.

Deep ones.

"Sounds hot," she decided, shaking her head at herself.

"It wasn't your finest moment," I agreed, getting one of those dimples with a lopsided smile.

"I probably should have mentioned that I spike wicked high fevers when I'm sick. I didn't think I'd get sick, though. I never get sick. I'm gonna make that kid of yours pay for doing this to me," she added, shaking her head. "Big bowls of broccoli for dinner or something."

"He likes broccoli."

"Freak," she declared, getting a laugh out of me. "He made me tea," she said, eyes soft, her hand going to her heart.

My damn traitorous eyes followed the movement, knowing it wasn't a good idea, but unable to stop myself regardless.

And there right under her hand was her soaked white tee clinging to her breast. The bath water must have been cooling off because her nipple was hardened against the material.

I had no fucking right to look, let alone have a reaction. But there was no denying the way my cock started to stiffen, reminding me how long it had been since I'd been with a woman.

Shit, I didn't even know when that was.

Things with Brit and I hadn't been physical in ages. And I hadn't been comfortable stepping out until the divorce was final, even though we'd both agreed it was fine. Don't ask, don't tell kinda thing.

It wasn't just the too-long unmet need, though. I knew myself well enough to tell genuine interest and superficial attraction apart.

I liked Alessa.

She wasn't someone I thought I would ever say that about. I guess I'd always gone for traditional feminine women in both dress and demeanor.

In all our years together, I'd only heard Brit utter a curse once or twice, and never one of the big ones. She'd also been a woman who had her hair and nails and brows done regularly, who enjoyed her makeup and perfume collections.

Alessa was, well, none of those things. I'd yet to see her in anything but utility pants or jeans and tees or sweatshirts. If she wore any makeup, it was subtle enough that it was impossible to tell. She smelled like soap, not perfume. She never wore her hair down. She kept her nails military-short and there wasn't any polish on them.

And, well, she cursed with the same reckless abandon that I did.

But regardless of how she didn't check the boxes I always thought added up to interest for me, there was no denying it.

I couldn't help but smile every time I walked in to find her trash-talking back and forth with my kid over a video game or board game or even a fucking Nerf fight.

I liked that when Avi wanted to go out to eat in the morning, she was five minutes from being out the door. No fuss.

I liked how that hard-as-nails exterior softened just ever so much when she was talking to Avi, or talking about him to me.

Like that sweet softness in her eyes over the fact that he'd made her tea.

"He was scared," I told her, forcing my gaze back up to her face.

"Scared?"

"That you were going to die," I told her.

"Oh, the poor guy."

"Yeah," I agreed."He was teary about it. But I think the conversation about it made some progress with him being willing to talk about his Mom. He mentioned her a few times when talking about making you tea."

"That's good. He's mentioned her to me a few times too. Maybe if, you know, you talked about her more," she suggested.

"It feels... strange," I admitted.

"To talk about your wife?" she asked, brows knitting.

"It's not hard with adults who know that we were separated for ages, and heading toward a divorce, that we weren't actually together. But with Avi who didn't know that? I don't know what to say," I told her.

If we were together and in love like married couples should be, I would likely be making comments all the time about missing her, about wishing she was around.

But we'd been ships passing in the night for a long time.

The things I missed were things for Avi. I missed him getting to hear her wishing him a good morning. I missed him having her go into his room at night to say prayers with him. I missed him feeling her hugs.

I knew he missed those things.

And I missed them for him too.

But my missing Brit was all for him.

We'd been tolerating each other, at best. At worst, we were actively arguing or ignoring each other to avoid arguing.

"I get that," Alessa said, shrugging. "What about her family? Maybe if they were around to talk about her with him?"

"She barely spoke to her parents. They'd disowned her when I'd gotten her pregnant in high school."

"Assholes."

"Yeah," I agreed. "She didn't have any siblings."

"Maybe you can talk to him about how you missed your mom," she suggested. "Like if you are hanging out, you can make a comment about how you missed watching movies with your mom when she was missing or something like that. Then it gives him a chance to say he misses watching movies with his mom. Well, maybe not movies. She wasn't big on the movies, right?"

"No. But I should plan a day to take him to the park or something. They liked to do outdoor things. That will give me a chance."

"There you go," she agreed. "He's coming around. I think the shock of the loss was what had him curling into himself so much. The longer he has to adjust, the more he will feel comfortable talking about her again."

"Yeah, I hope so."

"Are you worried about him going back to school?" she asked, knowing that his first day was the day after Halloween.

I figured it was a good time since between Thanksgiving and Christmas, he would still have a lot of days home. But the guidance counselor at the school when I'd called had suggested that she thought it was important for Avi to get some normalcy back into his life.

I had to agree.

"A bit."

"Because of his grief?" she clarified. "Or for safety reasons?"

"Yeah to both. But I think he will be happy to see his school buddies again. And I have you now," I said, feeling a strange flip-flopping sensation in my stomach at my choice of words.

I have you now.

I didn't have her.

Avi had her.

But, somehow, something in me like the phrase, liked the idea.

Of having her.

"I wouldn't let anything happen to him," she said, voice fierce, but she'd trailed off with a big yawn.

"I know," I agreed. "Come on. Let's get you back to bed," I said, standing, and reaching for a towel.

Alessa undid the drain, and slowly got to her feet. I didn't mean to, but I couldn't help but watch the way the water cascaded down her thighs.

"I, ah," she said, grabbing a sopping handful of her shirt.

"Right," I agreed. "Here," I said, lifting the towel up high as a barrier.

I should have taken my ass out of that bathroom.

She didn't need fucking assistance drying herself after a bath.

There was only the slightest of pauses before her arms raised up, struggling to get the soaked material up her slippery arms. She managed with a couple of hushed curses, dropping the shirt, and it slapped against the steadily-draining water.

Alessa reached up, but instead of just snatching the towel from me, she covered my hands with her own, pulling down, then guiding around.

Around.

My knuckles brushed the sides of her breasts and my fingertips grazed her back as I wrapped the towel around her.

I was going to pull away.

I was sure I was.

It was the only thing I could have done.

Right?

But before I could, Alessa's arms dropped, pinning my arms to the sides of her body as she went up on her tiptoes, as she leaned forward into my chest.

My gaze landed on her, sure I must have been misinterpreting her intentions.

But then one of her arms lifted, grabbed the back of my neck, and drew me down the last few inches, letting her seal her lips to mine.

I thought I was a man with good self control.

Alessa proved me wrong in less than a second.

That was how long it took for a ragged growl to move through me as my arms moved from her back, framing her face, tilting her head back, and kissing her harder, with damn near everything within me.

My cock went from stirring to rock hard in a moment as my tongue traced the seam of her lips, seeking entrance. When granted, my tongue moved inside to claim hers, to taste hers.

Alessa's arms folded around the back of my neck, crushing her chest to mine.

Another rumbling sound moved through me as my hands left her face, slid down her sides, moved around her back to sink into the ass I caught myself staring at a fuckuva lot more often than I should.

It was then, right fucking then, that we heard Avi's voice in the hallway.

Thank God, too.

Because if we didn't hear him, I would have laid her down on the cold tile floor of my bathroom, and fucked her hard and fast until we both fucking shattered apart.

And that was the last thing in the world we needed to do.

Try telling that to my cock, though, as we both broke apart, wide-eyed.

"Dad, Less isn't in her room," Avi called as I moved through the bathroom, ignoring the ache in my balls, the painful need for release.

"I know, bud," I said, taking a measured breath, finding absolutely no relief in it. "Her fever got high, so she took a bath in my tub," I explained, moving through my room toward the hall.

"Is she okay?"

"Much better now," Alessa said, moving out in the hall behind me. "But tired. Thanks for checking on me, bud," she told him, ruffling his hair on her way back to her room.

"You alright?" I asked when we were alone. "What woke you up?"

"I was worried," he admitted.

"Hey, no need to worry," I told him, squeezing his shoulder.

"Because you're taking care of her?" he asked.

Not in the way I wanted.

"Yeah, Av. I'm taking care of her."

"Good," he said, making his way back toward his room. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I like Less," he said, looking pained at the words.

"I like her too, bud."

"Do you think Mom would be mad?" he asked, making my heart crack for him. "Because I like her?"

"Bud, no," I told him, moving across the hall to crouch down in front of him. "Absolutely not. Your mom only ever wanted one thing in life. And that was for you to be happy. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," he said, voice small.

"And if it makes you happy to hang out with Less, then your mom would be happy about that too. I promise you that."

"Okay," he said, turning away, then back again. "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think she'd be mad that you like her too?"

Oh, that was the kick to the gut I'd been worried about.

"You know, I don't think so. We're allowed to like our friends."

I wasn't sure what the look was that he gave me then. It was almost curious and confused and suspicious all at once.

"Okay," he said, nodding. "Good," he added, moving back into his room. "'Night, Dad."

"Goodnight, bud. Love you."

"Love you too," he said, closing his door on me.

And me?

I grabbed myself a stiff drink, then went back into my room, and proved myself the biggest fucking liar by reaching down to stroke my cock to thoughts of Alessa in that tub.

My friend Alessa.

Because that was all she could ever fucking be.