When I woke up, I was not in the hotel room where I had last remembered—I was at home in my bed. No words could explain how much pain I was feeling. I did not even know where the pain was coming from; all I knew is that a bottle of Vicodin was going to be my best friend.
“Woof!” It sounded like I barked.
“Lily? Do you need something to drink?” Paul handed me a cup.
“What are you?” I took a deep breath as I still tried to open my eyes fully. “Doing here?” I tried to sit up but failed at the attempt.
“Just relax, Lily.” He put a moist towel over my head. “Jason found you.”
My eyes grew large and he sat me up by fluffing a pillow. “Jason?”
“Yup, he found you out of it. We have no idea what happened,” Paul said as he patted my head.
“Are you serious?” I tried to remember the last night I was with Jason. Was I in France? Maybe I was dreaming I was with him in France. I had to be dreaming.
“A few days ago you were out cold,” Paul grabbed a brush and brushed my hair out of my face.
“Okay,” I said trying to get his words through my head. “So, what is today?”
“Today is February twentieth…yeah,” he looked at his phone to confirm.
“Twentieth? But—”
“Yeah, your eye was huge!” Paul pushed me back down—I sat back up.
“Really?” I asked confused on what he was talking about.
“Yup, I was like whoa.”
“Seriously?”
“Uh huh,” he nodded his head.
I rested down and pulled the blanket over my mouth. “So, he found me?” I sat back up, mystified by Paul’s story. I didn’t sound right to me.
“Yes Lily,” he said annoyed as he prepared another cloth.
“Where?”
“At the hotel room.” Paul walked over to my bedside. “In France.”
“France!” My eyes narrowed. I guess I didn’t dream that whole event.
“Yeah, you remember going there, right?”
“Yes, I remember everything—”
Kathy walked into the room chewing so loud on some fried chicken that I lost my thought. “Move you sloppy butterball!” she shoved Paul out the way. “You feel ailing? Hungry?”
“No,” I rolled my eyes.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!” I said, annoyed by her phoniness. I hated when she acted as if she cared about me. She deserved an Oscar for as many times as she acted as if she cared for me.
“Fine,” she snapped as she walked out the room—Paul followed her.
I bit my lip thinking about that night in France. I remembered Ana there and Jason too. It was around Valentine’s Day.
“Baby!” It didn’t sound like Paul’s usual “baby” saying, it sounded like Jason. He walked into my room with a bouquet of white lilies. “Lily,” he kissed my forehead. “How do you feel?”
“Fine,” I said with a panicked smile and narrowed eyes.
“I love you—”
“So, you found me? Where? When?” I watched his movements as he walked toward my window grabbing a vase to put the lilies in.
“Yeah,” he took a deep breath. “I found you in the hotel, in the hallway; you look beaten and bruised,” he said in a soft tone.
“Um really?” I grew skeptical. In the hotel room, in France—I remember Paul’s exact words. “In the hallway?”
“Yes, Lily, in the hallway.”
“Really?” Maybe Paul misheard the story…just maybe.
“YES!” he snapped and walked over to me and fluffed my pillow just as Paul did. “Did Paul give you some of that juice?”
“I didn’t want any.”
“You’ll get dehydrated again. Get some rest and drink this, babe.” He handed me a cold cup of juice and kissed my cheek. “Sweet dreams.” He then put his fingers on my eyelids, closing them.