One hour passed. Then a second. After what seemed like an eternity, Angela's SUV passed by my window again, headed for her house. I stretched my neck to watch the car until it was out of sight. I crept to my front door and peered out, to see Henry and Angela, no bigger than ants. She seemed to have him by the wrist, wrangling him toward the door. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. But what could be done without starting a fight?
Kirsten responded to the group text Em created. I shuffled away from the door and desperately tried to focus my attention on the group outing we were planning. Em and I could scarcely wait to meet Jin-young, and Kirsten was equally as eager to get him introduced to Henry. We'd all decided on a picnic, and once the details were ironed out we'd invite Angela and Henry along.
I began to anxiety-clean my kitchen. I could no longer focus on the messages being exchanged, deaf to every ping on my phone. Broom in hand, I made quick work of cleaning the floor. There seemed to be an absurd amount of breadcrumbs, and a few withered chunks of chopped vegetable. My mother had always complained how messy I was in the kitchen. The thought of her well meant criticism made me tear up. I wish I could have apologized to her for every single stupid thing I'd ever done to make her stress or worry.
I stood, spaced out, in the middle of the kitchen, staring at one particular tile where I had dropped a drinking glass. The glass broke and I cracked the tile. She'd always meant to replace it, and never did. She couldn't find the wherewithal to take care of herself after dad died, much less the house. I could still hear the sound of breaking glass as the fire department busted the window of the family car to get her out. I shudder to remember the scene I arrived at, fire engine in our driveway, the thud of my university textbooks hitting the pavement. I'd arrived just as they forced open the garage, and ran in to pull her from her still-running car.
It was a flurry of people, running, yelling; neighbors crying and fretting. I remember a small crowd on the side of the street, stopping on their walks with children and dogs. Staring. That's all I did, too. Stare. I was numb the whole ambulance ride to the hospital, where she was DOA. For days, too numb to cry. Couldn't believe it happened, how much she was fighting; and I never knew.
The tap of my tears on the tile brought me out of my daze. I wiped my eyes, and began to steam mop. I passed several hours cleaning the counters, reorganizing the cabinets, cleaning out the fridge. I moved to other rooms of the house, collecting and bagging rubbish, dusting, putting things back where they belong.
I'd done all I could, so I retreated to one of my favorite activities: art. I looked up some video watercolor tutorials, settling on a picture of two koi fish. I squeezed out daubs of paint, and began. Four easy steps, the girl in the video says. Nothing is ever as easy as you think.
The sun had set by the time my masterpiece was complete. I signed the bottom right corner and left it to dry, dumping my water cup and lining up my brushes for next time. I'd hardly set the cup down when there was an agitated knock at the front door.
To my shock, Henry was standing in front of me. But he didn't seem himself. His hair was mussed, his face was a little flushed. He looked handsome, no doubt the clothes he was wearing were hand-me-downs from Finn. His black t-shirt was stretched a bit at the collar, haphazardly french-tucked into his jeans. He walked over the threshold of my house, and as he passed close to me, I saw how dilated his pupils were.
"Does Angela know you are here?"
He turned suddenly, so close to me I could feel his breath on my face. I took a step back, then felt the baseboard of the wall against the heels of my feet. He closed the gap between us, "She fell asleep watching a movie."
His agitated state worried me, but I was not afraid of him. "Are you okay?"
The very next moment, his arms were around me, and his lips were on mine. He held my face with one hand, and firmly held my waist with the other. He took a fistful of my hair and began kissing my neck. He wasn't letting up, and I wasn't exactly upset about it. Before I knew what I was doing, I slid a hand up his shirt.
We'd all but ripped each other's clothes off, before that same hand pushed him away. My heart was thudding, and I'm sure my pupils were big as saucers. He panted, a sheen of sweat on his face. I don't know how long we just stood there, neither of us willing to break eye contact. Where had this appetite come from, and what happened that made him find it?
I grounded myself as quickly as possible by studying the details in the features of his face. His green eyes looked like peridots. His eyelashes were surprisingly short. He had a little brown beauty mark at the far right side of his hairline. Jawline square, and a little bit narrow.
"This has no bearing on whether or not I enjoyed what just happened," I looked him in the eye again, "But what has gotten into you?"
I spied a small band-aid dangling out his left shirt sleeve, half stuck to his arm and barely hanging on. He followed my gaze, a panicked look on his face. I pushed up his sleeve gently to reveal a pea-sized bruise just under his deltoid. My right hand rested on his chest, my left flew to my mouth, "Oh, Henry. What happened to you?"
"Angela brought me back to the lab so they could give me this shot. I had no idea what it was, I asked and asked. They said it was just a 'booster,' whatever that means. I didn't want it, but they insisted, held my arm and... well that's why I'm bruised," he was looking at my lips the whole time he was talking, "Then we got home, and my face started feeling hot, I felt my heart racing. I told her I was tired when I wasn't, so we watched a movie. You were all I could think about. I had to see you. I needed to touch you, to kiss you. God, the things I thought about doing with you on my way over here. That I still want to do... I'm out of my head! I have no idea what's wrong with me, what she had them do!"
He clapped his hands to his face. I gently took his arm and steered him to the sofa. I hugged him tight, wrapped him in a blanket, and let him lean on me while I sent Kirsten some messages. She had just become a nurse practitioner, and might be able to shed some light on the situation.
After telling her the basics of the situation, she asked me what reaction he was having to whatever injection he was given.
'Increased sexual appetite, dilated pupils, sweating, some mild aggression,' I typed.
'Hm. That could be a few things, and I wouldn't be able to pinpoint without testing. However, because Angela has been having issues with his lack of so-called appetite before now, I would suspect that it is some sort of testosterone containing cocktail, to encourage him to be more amorous. And if not testosterone, then something having a similar effect.' Kirsten was the bomb dot com, hitting the nail on the head.
"Henry, sweetie," I walked eagerly on eggshells, because I had no idea if rage was coming next, "how long do you expect Angela will be asleep?"
"Probably for the whole night. She had half a bottle of wine in the first thirty minutes of the movie."
I sent Em a text, telling her to go check in on Angela in exactly two hours. I quickly asked Kirsten what I should do for Henry.
'Nothing. Obviously, don't provoke him. Given his status as an Andromedon, and the fact that their facilities are closed at the moment, including their clinic, all he can do is wait for the more intense effects to wear off. Clinics that you or I go to won't even see him. Someone tried to bring theirs in where I work the other day, and we had to turn them away.'
I smoothed his hair, "I have Em going to check on Angela. And unfortunately, all Kirsten says we can do is wait this out. At some point, you will have to head back home-"
"No, no I won't. I'm not going back there."
"You don't have to go right now, you can stay a bit and calm down first."
He lifted himself from his perch on my shoulder, looked me in the eye. He was red in the face, "Did I stutter?"
I heaved up from the couch, and threw the throw pillow at his head. I was stomping toward the stairs. Doing exactly the opposite of what Kristen told me not to do: I was provoking him. "Angela will be furious if she finds you gone, and will rip me to shreds for it. But whatever. Stay here all night for all I care, what are the consequences to you? You won't be in trouble. You're her beautiful and perfect Henry. I really don't give a damn if you go home or not, but don't come near me," I stormed into my bedroom, leaving him in angry shock on the couch. I think the emotions were too much, because he was just frozen there, quiet as a mouse.
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