“Okay, okay,” I soothed, stroking her hair, and wondering what the heck was happening. I was pretty sure she wasn’t flipping out about popcorn, but I had no idea what was really going on.
Maybe if I knew what was wrong, I could help. But…she wanted her privacy.
She would let me make her popcorn, though, so after she settled down again, I made some popcorn.
I was still in the kitchen waiting for it to finish when I tugged the rolled-up notebook from my back pocket, but before I could get started, Cora called my name. “Quinn?”
“I’m in the kitchen. Everything okay?”
“What’re you doing in there?” She sounded accusing.
I crinkled my eyebrows. “Uh…I’m popping the popcorn...like you wanted.” Worried something was affecting her memory, I left the popcorn still popping and started down the hall as she called, “Where’s Zoey?”
I stepped into the living room. “In her room still, I guess. I don’t know. Why? What’s wrong? Do you want me to get her for you?”
She sat on the couch with her blanket pulled snug around her shoulders and her knees up to her chest. She definitely wasn’t behaving like Cora tonight.
When she looked up at me, I almost panicked. What the hell was going on with my girlfriend? Was she on drugs? Had some guy messed with her? My mind went crazy. But all she said was, “I want you to sit by me.”
So I sat by her.
Zoey must’ve realized that I couldn’t leave Cora’s side, because she carried in a bowl full of popcorn just as Cora decided on a movie and started it.
“Here. You guys left this in the microwave.”
“Thanks.” I reached up and took it from her, and Cora cuddled in closer to me.
“Want to watch with us?” I asked Zoey, tightening my arm around my girlfriend to let her know I wouldn’t leave her side. “We’re just getting started.”
Zoey glanced at the screen and look undecided.
“Yes, do,” Cora coaxed. “Watch a movie with us. You and I haven’t spent nearly enough time together since you moved here.”
That seemed to be the clincher for Zoey. She joined us on the couch, sitting next to Cora.
It took me about five seconds to realize Cora had picked a horror movie. She knew I hated them. But I didn’t say a thing about her choice. Maybe she just wanted a reason to cuddle into me and clutch my arms, because she spent the next two hours smashed against me doing just that.
When the final credits rolled, she groaned and flopped her cheek onto my shoulder. “I don’t want to walk all the way back to my bed.”
I offered to carry her, which she gladly accepted. As I glanced at a pale, shaken-looking Zoey and told her good night, Cora wrapped her arms around my neck and cuddled her nose into my throat.
“Will you stay the night?” she whispered in my ear.
“Of course.” I knew she didn’t want to do anything and I wouldn’t have tried after seeing her so sick, but her sudden, strange clinginess scared me. I wasn’t too sure what to think about what was going on with her.
But she continued to cling to me when I crawled under the sheets with her and spooned up behind her. “I like it best when you’re here.” Her hand settled possessively on my forearm before she sighed into her pillow and went to sleep.
I stayed up long after she was out, trying to figure out what most of this evening had meant. Cora had wanted me to take her to a party tonight, but she hadn’t even mentioned how much she’d missed not going after I’d found her sick. She usually hated missing a party for any reason; she liked to bemoan the fact that she’d missed it until she found her way to another event.
Tonight, she just hadn’t acted like herself at all. I kissed her hair and hoped to God she was okay.
When I finally fell asleep, nightmares plagued me. Reason number one why I never watched horror movies. They never failed to make me dream about my mom.
I jerked awake sometime late in the night in a cold sweat. Cora was sleeping peacefully. I touched her forehead for a temperature, but she felt cool, so I shoved the blankets off me and patted barefoot out of her room, down the hall, and into the kitchen. A night-light above the sink guided my path as I went to the refrigerator and found a bottle of chilled water. When I noticed the notebook I’d started to open while I’d been popping popcorn still sitting on the kitchen table in the corner, I opened the water and went that way.
A lighthearted children’s story sounded like the perfect cure to get me over a scary-movie-induced nightmare.
