He picks another movie after that, but I fall asleep on him. When I wake up, I’m lying down on the sofa with my duvet over me, and Rory is in the kitchen heating up some of the soup. He brings it to the coffee table along with a small plate of crackers and a tall glass of water.
“I’d feel better if you ate something.” He smiles at me, and it’s all the encouragement I need.
“All right,” I say. “I’ll try.”
The soup is eons better than the soup at the hospital, and I ask Rory where he got it so I can get some more.
“Oh no. I’m not giving you my secrets. You want this soup, you’ll have to go through me.”
I laugh and take another spoonful. I had been afraid to eat after my night at the hospital, but now that I was eating, my hunger opened up with a vengeance. Setting the spoon on the coffee table, I start drinking straight from the bowl like a savage.
Rory laughs next to me.
“Thank you,” I say. “That was good.”
He smiles. “You betcha.”
After insisting with a look of warning that I am quite capable of cleaning up, I take the dishes to the sink, and soap suds drip from my hands when something in my stomach churns. I run to the toilet and barely make it in time.
The soup comes out nearly in the same state it went in, and it is revolting. I feel a hand on my back, and I push him away. “No,” I manage to say. “I don’t want you seeing me like this.” I wave him away with my head hovering over the toilet bowl.
“Valentina, this doesn’t bother me. Please, let me be here.” He pulls my hair back so it’s not dangling into the toilet bowl just in time for round two of the soup rejection.
I close the lid to the bowl and sit back as I wipe my mouth. “Real sexy, aren’t I?” I say, attempting a joke, but Rory’s face is all concern. “I really wish you hadn’t seen that.”
“Like I said, it doesn’t bother me. Normally I would respect your wishes, but I know you don’t have any family here.”
“Can I have a moment to clean up a bit?”
Rory scratches his jaw through his beard, then nods. “Yeah, I’m just out here if you need anything, okay?”
“Thanks, doc.”
After brushing my teeth and taking a shower, I find Rory scrolling through his phone. He looks up at me with a face-splitting smile that melts me.
“Better?”
“Yeah.”
“What else do you want to watch?”
“I’m actually kind of sick of the TV for today.”
“Okay. We can just chat.”
“Sure . . .” I say reluctantly. “What about?”
“Anything. Let’s see. Oh, I know. What’s your favorite band?”
I smile, glad for the change in subject. “Easy.Industrial November. I always thought my walkout song would be eitherMetal Red DayorWelded Dragons.”
“Those would be good fighting songs. I’m surprised, though. You listen to them in Mexico?”
“They’re much bigger in Mexico City than they are here, I’ll tell you that much.”
“Well, yeah. Maybe not so much in the Midwest, but they have fans in the U.S. too.”
“What about your favorite band?” I ask, content with the easy conversation topic that is also somehow really revealing.