Dad had to stop twice on the way home so that I could stick my head out the door. I didn’t puke but I had the dry heaves both times. Between my two dry heave sessions I was leaning back in the seat when it suddenly hit me. Now I knew who that boy was in the nurse’s office. His name was Sam, and he lived about two blocks from my house. I had seen him at the park many times and even played touch football with him and a bunch of other neighborhood kids. Just like Simon, I promised myself that I would keep his secret.
I found out after I got better that when my dad, who is a criminal defense trial lawyer, found out I was sick, he happened to be in the middle of a trial and asked the judge to call a recess so that he could come get me. That may not impress some people, but that floored me when I overheard mom and him talking about it. I have never looked at my dad the same since that memorable day.
“Rachel Lewis, will you marry me?” I tackled him and we embraced, he held me tightly on top of him as we kissed passionately. The candy, fallen to the carpet and covered in thousands of little fibers. That was all the answer he needed. Ponies were forgotten, pizza sat cold, we just pressed ourselves together, trying to pull into one body as well as one heart. He pushed me up, breaking off the kiss, he stood me up and led me to the stairs and into our bed. I finished him deftly with my mouth.
We lay in our bed in post coital bliss, him spooned around me and squeezing me tightly, and me with my purple paci in my mouth and once again cuddling with Cthulhu, being his big spoon. It had been some night, then the horror of the party had been worth it. Just before I dozed off to sleep, Dex whispered into my ear, “I love you, Rachel. Merry Christmas to all, and to all in Goodnites.”