31
Summer
“You’ll like this soup. My mother used to make it for me when I was little,” Eric says, holding up the bowl of delicious smelling soup before me. With a silver spoon, he scoops up some of the soup with a few chunks of potatoes and carrots. “It’s an old Russian recipe.”
As I stare at him, I still can’t believe I’m here. Alive. Not dead.
I jumped. I really did it. I actually did what I never thought I would do.
I tried to kill myself and all I’ve lived for is to survive.
But I jumped over the balcony, and he caught me. Eric saved me and he hasn’t left my side since. He’s been glued to me, taking care of me, and we’ve hardly left his room. Whenever he’s had to leave me to take a call he’s never gone where he couldn’t see or hear me.
Lyssa has been here too. I don’t think she went home even though I went to sleep nearly straight after Eric saved me. I know I gave her a terrible fright. I just didn’t think I’d be alive to feel the embarrassment of what I tried to do.
It happened yesterday and now it’s approaching night again. Just like yesterday before Eric left. Now he’s feeding me again. And he looks worried, like he thinks I might change my mind and jump through the window.
The thing is I can’t feel my mind. It’s numb in my shell of a body, but I can still see the wealth of emotion in his eyes for me. And I can still hear his words ringing through my mind as he told me he cared and asked me to stay in this world with him.
The pain in my heart is no less but I’m here. I stayed.
“It smells nice,” I answer, looking from him to the soup.
His eyes sparkle. “Taste it, baby.”
Baby…
He’s been calling me that instead of Babydoll. I like both now, except when he calls me baby it feels more sentimental. I would have died yesterday with the echo of that endearment in my mind. I chose to remember one last thing as I stepped off the balcony and it was him saying he’d take care of me. I chose that because nobody has told me that before.
The closest I came was Marquees and his wife, but they were strangers who took pity on me. Eric is a stranger too, but my relationship with him is different.
I lean closer and take the food he’s offering me.
Just like earlier the flavors tantalize my taste buds and I taste every herb and ingredient as if I’ve never had soup before. I think that must have something to do with the shock to my system of thinking I was going to die. Now that I’m still here my body is still adjusting.
“It’s delicious.”
“Good. Have the rest. You need it.” He holds out the spoon to me again with more soup and I offer him a weak smile.
“I’ll do it Eric. You’ve been feeding me all day.”
“Maybe I like the idea of you thinking I’m sweet.” He smirks.
“You are.”
“I’ll allow you to think so.”
He hands me the bowl and I take it. To show him he doesn’t have to worry about me eating I take a spoonful myself and another.
Satisfied he straitens up and sits on the window bay before me.
I look him over and take in the tattoos covering his arms. He’s wearing a tank top so it’s easy to see most of them.
There’s something I owe him, and I should pay up before the day ends. So, I’m going to do it now.
“Thank you for saving me,” I mutter.
He looks surprised. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”