“Do you have a different one for me?”
“Uhm,” she ponders. “Maybe, my person.”
“Your person?”
She nods, and finally, a trembling hand takes the pizza. Her stomach rumbles as she sits higher in my lap, taking the first bites. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything. Even with a full mouth.”
A small giggle passes her lips, gone as quickly as it arrives. “Are you okay?” she asks, her mouth already empty. “Are you healthy?”
“I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I just need to know that I’m not gonna lose you, right?”
“You’re not. I’m fine. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Not without me?”
“Never.” I rub my throat, feeling that dry and dull ache there again.
“Is your throat hurting from talking?”
“Feels a little strained. I think it’ll fade out.”
Touch Dollie’s pizza three times, or it won’t. It’ll stay forever, and you’ll lose your voice for real.
Fuck my life.
“Can I have a bite?” I ask because it’ll distract her from noticing me tapping at her food for no reason.
She leads the pizza to my mouth, nudging my lips to open wide. I take the smallest bite while closing my grip on the edge three times, just like my weird fucking brain asks.
“I knew you’d hate it. It’s too greasy for you.”
I swallow the tiny piece down in lumps. “It’s vile.”
“You know, I wouldn’t have judged you for just touching it.”
“I should have known that.”
“You should know that I accept you for you.” She loosens her hold on the slice, leaving it in only my hand, grease traveling down to my wrist. “I ate more than two bites. I can’t do more right now. I’m sorry.”
“Tomorrow?”
“I’ll try. Please don’t eat your cake before it’s done.”
I nod, my own stomach rolling. It’s nothing to do with hunger. It’s all worry. How can I get her to eat? How can I make this right?
“Thank you for caring about me.” Soft lips press just off my mouth. “I should get back.”
“Dollie,” I murmur, clutching her hand and pulling her back as she tries to leave the bed. “Don’t go.”
Greedy for her, I stand, towering over her. The pizza falls to the floor, the melted cheese creating a mess on my soft carpet that I can’t even bring myself to care about.
Tiny palms land on my chest, but she doesn’t shove me away. Refusing to push her boundaries, I still waiting for her next move.
“I have to.”
